There are travel YouTubers who seek infinity pools in Bali. There are travel YouTubers who fly First Class to Dubai, eat something covered in gold leaf and spend twelve minutes complaining that the champagne wasn’t quite cold enough. And then there’s Steve Marsh, who will look at a weather forecast showing horizontal rain, 58mph winds, a temperature normally associated with refrigerated warehouses and a government warning advising people to remain indoors and think, “Should be a cracking day for a ferry.”

Welcome to the wonderful world of Steve Marsh, a man apparently determined to visit every windswept harbour, obscure island, tiny airport, suspiciously empty railway station and floating cafeteria in northern Europe. Usually accompanied by his partner Alicja, he somehow makes journeys that sound like punishments handed down by a particularly imaginative Scottish magistrate look genuinely enjoyable.

Steve Bloody Loves a Ferry

We need to discuss the ferries because Steve bloody loves a ferry. Big ferry, small ferry, overnight ferry, car ferry, passenger ferry, ferry that appears to have been constructed in 1974 using leftover parts from a council leisure centre. It doesn't matter. If it floats, carries passengers and has even the remote possibility of a cafeteria, Steve is interested.

A normal person might discover that a flight takes 55 minutes and think, “Excellent, we'll fly.” Steve will instead discover that you can take a train to Aberdeen, walk through the rain, board a ferry shortly before midnight, spend several hours crossing angry water and arrive the following morning looking like you've been evacuated from an offshore drilling platform. Naturally, this is the preferred option.

And Steve doesn't merely board a ferry. He investigates it. Within minutes we're getting the full tour. Here's the lounge. Here's the restaurant. Here's the outside deck. Here's another outside deck. Here's a staircase. Here's the carpet. Here's a mysterious corridor. Here's a door saying CREW ONLY that Steve looks at for slightly longer than necessary.

Then comes the moment every Steve Marsh viewer knows is inevitable: he goes outside.

The wind is approximately Force 97. Somewhere in the distance a Norwegian oil platform has just been blown into Denmark. Steve's jacket is attempting to leave his body and the microphone is recording nothing except WHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH, but through the meteorological violence we can just about hear him announce that it's “a bit breezy.”

A bit breezy? Steve, a Volvo just flew past.

Meanwhile Alicja has sensibly remained indoors, presumably drinking tea and updating the life insurance paperwork.

Scotland: Four Seasons Before Breakfast

Scotland has many varieties of weather. There's rain, heavy rain, rain with wind, rain coming sideways and that particularly ambitious Scottish rain that somehow manages to enter your trousers despite you wearing waterproofs. Occasionally, for approximately seven minutes in May, there's sunshine, although nobody has yet managed to photograph it.

Steve can experience the entire selection during one video. He'll begin filming beneath a surprisingly blue sky, enthusiastically announcing what a beautiful morning it is. Twenty minutes later the camera cuts to Steve standing beside a road looking as though he's been pressure-washed.

“Conditions have changed a wee bit.”

This is Scotland. The weather doesn't deteriorate. It launches an ambush.

The camera lens is covered in water, his shoes contain approximately two litres of Loch Lomond, visibility is down to twelve feet and a sheep has just gone past backwards. Yet Steve remains relentlessly cheerful and announces that you “can't complain.”

Of course you can complain, Steve. You're Scottish. It's practically a constitutional responsibility.

Alicja Deserves Some Sort of Medal

Every great explorer needs a companion. Lewis had Clark, Sherlock had Watson, Wallace had Gromit and Steve has Alicja, who appears remarkably calm about discovering that today's “little trip” involves a 5:20am alarm, three buses, two ferries and a nine-mile walk because Steve has found “an interesting route.”

The phrase that should terrify Alicja more than any other is surely:

“I've got a wee plan for today.”

You can almost see the calculations taking place behind her eyes. How far? How cold? How many ferries? Will there be lunch? Is lunch an actual meal, or is Steve counting a packet of crisps eaten beside a bus shelter as lunch again?

Yet off they go, and that's part of what makes the videos so enjoyable. Half an hour later they're laughing, exploring somewhere you've never previously considered visiting and somehow making you wonder whether you too should spend February wandering around a remote Scottish island while being repeatedly slapped in the face by Atlantic weather.

The Marsh Definition of Luxury

Luxury travel channels will show you £8,000 hotel suites with private pools, marble bathrooms and somebody whose entire job appears to be arranging towels. Steve can achieve approximately the same level of excitement by discovering that his ferry cabin has a window.

“Look at this!”

The camera spins around and there it is. A rectangular piece of glass. You'd think Cunard had installed a private swimming pool and complimentary butler.

Then comes the bathroom inspection. The shower is “perfectly decent”, there's “plenty of room” and, inevitably, Steve “can't complain.” I'm increasingly convinced you could accommodate him inside an airing cupboard with a kettle and he'd emerge the next morning saying, “For what I paid, absolutely brilliant.”

The requirements appear straightforward: clean enough, reasonably priced, preferably near public transport and, ideally, overlooking something grey.

The Steve Marsh Restaurant Critic

Food is another joy. Other travel influencers will explain that their locally sourced langoustine is accompanied by a saffron beurre blanc, heritage vegetables and something called a “foam”. Steve points the camera at a pie.

“Got myself a pie.”

The pie looks as though it has already completed two tours of Afghanistan.

“How is it?”

“Actually... pretty good.”

And that's your review. No tasting notes, no discussion of mouthfeel, no chef appearing from the kitchen to explain his philosophy. It's warm, edible and didn't require a remortgage. Four Marsh Stars.

Add chips and you're approaching perfection. Serve it aboard a ferry and Michelin may as well give up.

Places Nobody Knew They Wanted to Visit

Steve also possesses the extraordinary ability to make you interested in places you've never heard of. A normal travel channel uploads 48 HOURS IN NEW YORK!!! while Steve might upload something that effectively amounts to I Took a Bus Across Scotland Because Apparently It Still Runs on Tuesdays.

And you click it. Obviously you click it.

Forty minutes later you're emotionally invested in whether he'll make the 16:12 connection at a bus shelter outside Ullapool. You didn't know Ullapool had that bus. You didn't care about that bus. You may not have known exactly where Ullapool was. Now the bus is three minutes late and THIS IS EVERYTHING.

Steve checks his watch. You check the video progress bar. Alicja quietly eats something. The tension becomes unbearable. Forget Mission: Impossible. Will Steve make the ferry?

The Great Scottish Road Trip

Scotland provides perfect Steve Marsh territory because it contains beautiful scenery, remote roads, tiny villages, unexpected ferries and weather capable of removing exterior paint. At some point he'll pull into a lay-by because something “looks nice”, and annoyingly, it always does.

Mountains rise behind a perfectly still loch. Clouds hang dramatically over the hills. There's nobody around for miles and for thirty glorious seconds Scotland resembles the tourist-board photographs.

Then the rain starts.

Steve puts his hood up, laughs and carries on filming. Five minutes later he's standing in what appears to be a car wash with mountains.

Why We Keep Watching

The genuinely lovely thing about Steve's videos is that they're the opposite of manufactured influencer travel. There's very little YOU WON'T BELIEVE WHAT HAPPENED NEXT!!! because usually you can believe what happened next. The ferry arrived, Steve got on it, Alicja got on it, somebody bought a coffee and eventually it started raining.

And somehow it's brilliant.

The entertainment isn't manufactured drama. It's curiosity. Steve seems genuinely interested in how places connect, how people travel and what's sitting beyond the next harbour, railway line or ridiculously inconvenient bus connection. Alicja adds the perfect travelling-companion energy, particularly when Steve announces another “wee walk” that appears considerably longer than the version originally presented at breakfast.

Together they can turn a rainy Tuesday involving public transport into something you actually want to watch. More importantly, they make ordinary travel feel worthwhile. You don't need a private jet, £900 hotel room or rooftop infinity pool. Sometimes you just need a ferry ticket, a waterproof jacket, a questionable pie and absolutely no respect for the weather forecast.

So What Would a Tipple Tours Steve Marsh Tour Look Like?

This got us thinking at Tipple Tours. Could we actually create a holiday specifically for people who watch Steve Marsh videos and think, “That looks absolutely dreadful. Where do I book?”

Of course we could.

Introducing the completely hypothetical Tipple Tours Ferry, Pie, Pints & Precipitation Adventure.

Day One begins in Aberdeen in weather described by the Met Office as “don't”. There will be no airport transfer because that sounds suspiciously convenient. Instead, everyone receives instructions involving a railway station, a local bus and the phrase “you can't miss it”, which virtually guarantees that somebody will.

That evening we board an overnight ferry. Tipple Tours guests receive the full Steve Marsh experience, including compulsory exploration of every deck, inspection of the cafeteria, staring through several windows and at least one visit outside when the wind is strong enough to rearrange your face. First person to describe the conditions as “a wee bit breezy” wins a pint. We continue late into the night enjoying the contents of ferry's main bar.

Day Two begins somewhere in Orkney with breakfast, assuming the ferry hasn't moved it somewhere else. We then catch a local bus to somewhere that doesn't really require visiting, purely because the route looks interesting. Lunch is a pie eaten somewhere inappropriate, ideally overlooking a harbour in drizzle. Then the pub crawl begins...

Day Three introduces the Marsh Transport Challenge. Guests must travel between two places approximately 14 miles apart using a combination of bus, foot passenger ferry and a connection with a timetable apparently written as a practical joke. Taxis are forbidden. Anyone suggesting one is immediately disqualified and sent to Edinburgh Airport to think about what they've done.

Day Four is our luxury day. We've booked a hotel with a window.

Possibly even a kettle.

Steady on.

Dinner will be fish and chips followed by an evening in a local pub where guests can discuss ferries for several hours. Tipple Tours will provide emergency conversation cards featuring useful topics including Ro-Ro Versus Ro-Pax: Discuss, Why Isn't There a Ferry From Here? and the advanced-level debate, Could We Have Flown Here in 45 Minutes Instead?

Day Five contains the tour's signature experience: The Completely Unnecessary Ferry. We deliberately take a ferry to somewhere purely so we can take another ferry back again. There is absolutely no logistical justification for this whatsoever.

Steve would understand.

Finally, Day Six features our grand farewell. Everyone stands on a windswept harbour holding a pint while rain arrives horizontally from Norway. We raise our glasses to ferries, Scottish buses, pies, connections and the wonderful discovery that travel doesn't have to be luxurious to be an adventure.

And somewhere out at sea, barely visible through the fog, a ferry horn sounds.

Half the group immediately reaches for their phones.

“Wonder where that's going?”

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how another Steve Marsh adventure begins.