Ferry woes and plane tales

I often tell stories on here, particularly in the wintertime, of cancellations in ferry routes. Every winter sees the same story, the wind blows hard and Calmac ceases operations. Well, sometimes ferry operators do what they like and jettison the timetable. I ran into that in September 2004, when journeying to the island of North Ronaldsay in Orkney. The timetable stated that the ferry would depart from the Orkney capital, Kirkwall, at 9 o'clock in the morning. I was at the harbour at 8.20 am, faced by a suspiciously empty quayside. A speck on the horizon was growing smaller and smaller. On enquiring at the port office, I was told that the master had decided to sail at 8 o'clock, as he had all cargo and passengers he was expecting on board. I had not advised Orkney Ferries I was intending to travel, neither had I been advised that such was necessary. So, I went on the plane.

Plane travel in Orkney is an experience in itself. I could get a return to North Ronaldsay, 40 miles northeast of Kirkwall or 15 minutes' flying time, for £12. Yep, twelve pounds. The planes are only wee, and will take 8 passengers at most. No stewardesses standing around, contorting themselves into the emergency drill. No, it's just the pilot sitting in the front who'll say: "Are we all strapped in? Let's go".

These Loganair planes also fly here in the Western Isles, and a couple of stories come to mind. At one time, a pilot was pulling a fast one on his passengers. He was sitting amongst them (not in uniform) and an accomplice was in the pilot's seat. Just before departure, he turned round and says: "Anyone any good at flying this here plane? Come round to the front and take over, I can't be bothered". So the real pilot comes round to the front and takes the plane away, to shocked silence from the passengers.

On another occasion, the service plane was flying to Glasgow via a few remote corners. One of the passengers was due to catch a connection at Glasgow, unbeknown to the pilot. So, the pilot landed in this farmer's field in Argyll and walked off to the farmhouse for a chat and a cuppa. Like you do. When he came back, the passengers was fretting and told the pilot he needed to catch this plane to Germany. "Why didn't you tell me?" the pilot remonstrated. He then went on the radio, and flew off to Glasgow. He taxied rightup to the stand where the jumbo jet for Germany was almost ready to depart. The wee plane was dwarfed by the jet, but our passenger caught his connection.