A window seat.
My challenge enjoying the journey.
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This is the Jacobite Steam Train. If this train seems strangely familiar to you, it’s because it was used as the Hogwarts Express in the Harry Potter movies. I saw Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone for the first time while I attended university, probably while procrastinating during exam season. By the time Harry and Ron make the harrowing trip through the wall at King’s Cross Station and arrive at Platform 9 3/4, I was hooked. In truth, I was hooked long before that scene, but the undeniable excitement of crossing into the magical world sealed my interest, and I watched with growing childish exuberance. By the time the boys get to the Hogwarts Express, Harry’s world is so imbued with newness and wonder that I found myself wishing I was on that train, too. Luckily for muggles like you and I, the Jacobite is a real train. Better yet, it still runs: the Jacobite operates a daily route in the Scottish Highlands in the summer months. The journey starts in the gorgeous Scottish countryside and takes you past hills, forests and lakes as you make your way to Mallaig, the small seaside village where you stop for lunch before the return trip. I assumed the movies used visual effects to create the magical route that the Hogwarts Express runs as it delivers its pupils to their school, but it actually follows the Jacobite’s real tracks, too. The huge, curved bridge featured in the second movie is real, too! I know I’ll never get the chance to hop on the Hogwarts Express, but the more I learn about it, a day trip on the Jacobite still seems like magic.
The Jacobite and the Highlands are still on my bucket list. I hadn’t heard about the Jacobite when I first visited Scotland in late 2018 during my gap year (I hadn’t even seen the Harry Potter movies yet). I never intended to go to Scotland the year after I graduated high school; initially my plan was to step straight out of school and into university, studying computer science. But when I hated every hour of the coding job I got in twelfth grade, I opted for an emergency gap year; the formulaic nature of the work killed me. My plans went out the window and while all my friends were attending orientation week, I sat at home. Before embarking on mine, a gap year seemed to me like an option available only to people wealthier and more connected than I was. I imagined a gap year to be one long weekend, touring around the world, constant parties, beach days, skiing. The first few months of my gap year were totally absent of parties and were instead filled with existential crisis in the shape of an unending stream of unanswerable questions. How did I get it so wrong? What do I want to be? What’s my new plan? Do I get a job? Is it okay to rest? It was so emotional to process this huge, unexpected change. I did rest. And I did find a job or two. Somehow, towards the end of the year, the opportunity to spend ten days visiting family and friends in the UK fell into my lap and I jumped at it, happy to escape my doubts for a short while. When I came home I enrolled in a new university and seemingly found my way back to a predictable path, convinced that I had answered my ceaseless questions.
After choosing my university because of an interesting major they offered, I learnt that I had swapped one career that locked me behind a screen for another. An emotional disaster ensued, accompanied by the return of the same questions I had asked myself the year before: How did I get it so wrong? What do I really want to be? After panicking, I settled into a new major. But, as graduation approached, all the leads generated by my university were in the advertising industry, which I struggled to connect with. I couldn’t be a part of the sacrificial, highly competitive, emotionally charged industry that I understood it to be. In the last year of university I decided to pursue a career in the film industry, with special emphasis on writing and directing stories that resonated with my heart. I looked all over, but I couldn’t land an internship. Doubt crept into my mind again. I graduated university without any ideas, without any direction. The familiar wave of crisis and questioning washed over me. I got a job in the States and thoroughly enjoyed the hard work. The structure of working at a summer camp gave me clear goals to hit and refreshing direction. I believed I had finally quietened my questions, but they were waiting for me when I returned home four months later. What do I want to be? What’s my new plan?
The trip from the Jacobite’s departure in Fort William to its arrival at Mallaig lasts about two hours. I hope to find myself on that magical train some day, and when I do get the chance, my eyes will be glued to the window for the entirety of the 120 minute journey. This particular train trip, unlike most of the others I have taken, isn’t actually about getting somewhere, it’s about going somewhere. Gawking at the train, indulging my childlike excitement, drinking a cup of tea with someone I love; those all seem far more important than getting to the destination the train is taking me to. I doubt very many people who ride the Jacobite are concerned with where the train delivers them, so long as they get to ride in it. Imagine if I was so focussed on arriving at Mallaig that I failed to recognise and enjoy simply being on the train. What if I never looked out the window? I’d miss the breathtaking lochs and rolling hills of the Scottish Highlands. What a shame that’d be.
The frustration I express when I tell you about the twists and turns after high school betrays my single minded focus on my destination. Many of the questions I asked myself had little to do with where I was at and far more to do with where I was going. And while I recognise the importance of foresight, my focus often turned to anxiety. My desire to make wise choices turned into worry that I would make the wrong ones. Rather than enjoying my time on the train and looking out the window, I kept double checking the map. Perhaps I needed to shift my priorities. Maybe I just needed to put a little less pressure on myself.
When I look back at the last five years since my first visit to Scotland, I can see tremendous growth. I am happy with the man I am today and the man I am becoming. There is, I have found in my search for answers, no one else I can be. My life is rich in relationships, experiences and memories, even if it lacks direction from time to time. I can’t stand the thought of missing the view from the window because my nose is buried in my worries. I wish I could tell you that this is a permanent shift I’ve made in my perspective; it isn’t. On bad days I still get wrapped up in worries about my future, my decisions, my dreams (and occasionally the lack of them). I have found that on occasion, though, I am able to look up, and revel in the train ride. What a wonderful privilege it is to have a future, even if it scares me most of the time. I try to trust that I will be able to face my future when I catch up to it. For now, I’m trying to focus on the journey.
I’m goal driven and a dreamer, so it can be really tough for me to be present, especially on difficult days. But the more I try, the more often I get it right. If you know someone who might connect with these thoughts, or just likes trains, please share this journal with them.