Trans Scotland Trial 18

Friday’s 1811 from Glasgow Queen Street was packed with commuters and tourists, glad to escape the city for a weekend of freedom. One ruddy faced man was making good progress on a four pack of strong lager with a red wine chaser. Luke and I had driven from Manchester looking forward to a weekend in the hills, but our idea of freedom was probably a little more extreme than that of our fellow travellers. We planned to ride more than 300 miles through Scotland on The Racing Collective’s TransScotland18 event. Sleep would be optional, an appetite for big miles was mandatory. For now though we had a three hour train journey north through the Highlands to enjoy. A couple of beers from Drygate Brewery were the perfect accompaniment. 

Down at the VeloCity Bike cafe on Saturday morning riders made nervous chatter, one hour to go before we would push ourselves to endure in search of new experiences, people and places. 

I was the last one to leave the start at Inverness castle, I’d relaxed after hours of waiting so I was still tweeting my start photo as everyone else rolled out. I made some early routing errors as well which all contributed to a growing feeling of being way off the back of the pack. Still, plenty of time to sort it out I rationalised. 

 The A9 cycleway was a delight, sweet smelling gorse blooms overhung the old road which had long since been retired to cycleway and mile by mile I climbed towards the Cairngorm Massif.

I passed along quiet lanes through sleepy villages of bungalows and timber houses on my way to Tomintoul where I spotted fellow rider Nicky Shaw. She was in her own bubble listening to music and as I turned off at the end of the village she went left to follow the road to Braemar. My gravel shortcut would save me around 6 miles, but more importantly it would take me alongside the head waters of the river Avon up one of Scotlands quietest glens. No traffic, just bird calls and the rustle of water rushing in search of the sea. I was briefly held up by a grouse and it’s hatchlings as they ran along in front of me, I couldn’t see that happening on the A93

Tarmac, then singletrack and finally a steep Land Rover track took me to the highest point of my route at 2250 feet, from here a rollercoaster of a track dropped me through the Glen Livet estate and into CP1 at Braemar Castle. As I left CP1 I passed Nicky coming the other way, it was nice to see my ‘shortcut’ earn me a few minutes over the road route.

   

A late lunch sheltering from the rain under an archway and I pressed on to the Linn of Dee for my second off road shortcut. I couldn’t remember the last time I'd welcomed rain in the Highlands but today it was a welcome respite from the morning’s humid conditions.  Once again tarmac gave way to gravel and finally vague single track over the watershed into Glen Feshie. Fortunately I’d ridden this section last year so I had a good idea where the track went but it was definitely more of a challenge this time on a loaded gravel bike.

Steady on the descent in the hope of avoiding time consuming punctures and the steep sides of Glen Feshie enveloped me. Highland woodland was waking up from a long winter and rowan, broom and gorse were all boasting spring growth. I waded the river crossings with my bike on my back, I’d learnt the hard way that dynamo bearings do not like being submerged. After my third crossing of the River Feshie I found smooth new tarmac to lead me back to Feshie Bridge, what an unexpected result! In no time I was heading towards Glen Spean feeling like I’d saved some serious time. 

Loud country music could be heard from the hotel in Newtonmore where locals were enjoying the May sunshine over a few pints of Tennants. Down the road I noticed that my nav phone (spare iPhone running Komoot) had stopped charging from my dynamo. A broken phone charge lead was bad news at this point, I memorised the remaining checkpoint locations and hoped for the best. At least my dynamo powered lights were working OK.

Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh, and Chris Pitbaldo swept past me as I sorted my bags in a midge filled layby near Loch Laggan. I rode off and kept him in view for a few minutes but he was soon out of reach. My gravel tyres were no match for his fast wheels and slick tyres, I reminded myself to ride my own race.

Fort William offered up a phone cable from a service station, I was excited to be able to run maps on my phone again. Glen Coe and Rannoch Moor by night were spectacular. The road was near deserted and there was enough light in the west of the sky to make out the mighty Aonach Eagach ridge to my left and the distinctive cone of Buachaille Etive Mor to my right. The lochans at Black Mount reflected the midnight sky and I felt privileged to have this place to myself. Well, nearly - Chris was a couple of miles ahead and I gradually chased him down Glen Orchy and through the clouds of midges alongside Loch Awe until I caught him on a rolling A road just outside Inveraray. Just in time to share photo duties at CP3 and roll on towards the the Clyde ferries. We agreed we were in no hurry with more than three hours in hand to cover the forty miles to the Hunter’s Quay ferry, but we still arrived early at 0545 after a couple of hours peering through the midge and mizzle laden air.

At Hunter’s Quay I laid down on the tarmac and closed my eyes for a while only to be woken by the ticking of a freewheel. Iain rolled in, he’d been twenty minutes behind us for hours and now we were on for a sprint finish once we landed in Dunoon. I had no appetite for racing the last twenty or so miles and I left Iain and Chris to fight it out on their road bikes after CP4. I rolled into the finish 19 minutes after Iain took the winner’s title. Chris and Iain were there waiting and after photos we enjoyed a well earned  al fresco breakfast nearby. 

 

The Finish

Riding many of my favourite bits of Scotland within 24 hours had been a special experience, now how am I going to better that? Maybe a little ride to Greece will do the trick...

Stats

• 304 miles
• 12,927 ft climbing
• 21h 39m moving time

The Cairngorm Loop(s)

Veggie haggis, neaps and tatties with a
pint of local ale and a Laphroaig chaser

Back in 2016 I came across a bikepacking website which described a 188 mile route through the Cairngorms. Having never ridden in the Cairngorms this went straight on my bucket list of big rides and I decided to ride it with regular mountain biking accomplice Saul in the spring of 2017. Such was our pessimism about the Scottish weather that we put two dates in the calendar (one was bound to be wet or stormy and nobody likes riding for twenty four hours in Scottish rain). Fortunately our pessimism was just that. On checking the Cairngorm mountain forecast a few days before we the first date we'd pencilled in the forecast was ideal; light winds, dry and sunny - better than an average day in Yorkshire. "What's our plan?" asked Saul. We had a couple of options: a) ride 'til you drop or b) split the route across two days and use one of the many bothies on the route. For some reason when faced with this type of question my default choice is the hardest framed as the easiest, i.e. we don't want to mess about carrying bulky sleeping gear so lets not bother with the sleeping bit, ride on through and sleep later. I questioned the logic of this plan as we sorted our gear in the car park of the Tourist Information Centre in Blair Atholl after a surprisingly good nights sleep in the back of my van. I remembered our GT24 trip last year, that was a tough day (and night) out, the possibility of a repeat performance did not currently excite me.

Things did not not start well, there was no data signal for my phone and the route had not completed synching offline. Without the route we would have to work from four OS maps, and we'd be changing map sheets every few miles. We rolled out to the Bridge of Tilt at 7am and enjoyed the early morning tranquility of the Blair Atholl Castle estate. Once down by the A9 we had the old road to ourselves, a good warmup for what lay ahead. Unexpectedly at this point there was a good data signal for my phone so I was able to pick up the route and follow it on screen, this would save us time and navigation faffing.

GPX trace loaded at last

 

Our first proper off road section was an easy estate track climb over the grouse moors to the first river crossing at Sronphadruig (not a typo!) Lodge, then a brief section of bog leading to typical Scottish singletrack hugging a steep grassy lochside. We rolled downhill on estate road to Loch an T-Seilich where spirits were lifted by deep blue skies and bright sunshine, so far so good. We'd be round in no time if the terrain continued like this I thought. 

 

Riding on through pine forest under blue skies we were both feeling optimistic about what lay ahead, progress was better than expected and navigation was generally straight forward although we did take a couple of wrong turns around Feshiebridge which required us to retrace our steps. The trail was blocked here by fallen trees so we took a bit of a singletrack diversion up into the woods, all part of mountain biking in these parts. 

Forest track became fast single track through the woods to the Glenmore Lodge on Loch Morlich, the sandy trail lined by small native pines and heather - near perfection on a day like this. I occasionally wondered whether I'd got this right; here we were in Scotland riding great trails through stunning scenery under blue skies. The usual Scottish defaults of rain, bog and midge were curiously absent, at least for now. Saul commented that we hadn't seen a single other person on the trail all morning, which was the cue for us to encounter every dog walker, sightseer and otherwise at-a-loose-end individual within a ten mile radius in the next mile. We were obviously getting close to civilisation (or a National Trust car park). At the head of the Loch Morlich wex stopped at the Glenmore campsite and topped our Camelbacks up with water in preparation for the climb up to the high point of the route which lay ahead. 

 

The climb was on steep and wide gritty single track littered with water bars which tested strength. The single fork on my Cannondale F29er wandered skyward as I wheelied it up each stone step and I was reminded of our two rides up Conic Hill on the West Highland Way last year, at least the sun was shining today. We chatted to a couple of fell walkers at the top of the climb whilst we stopped for some lunch. Above us to the west was Cairn Gorm, the mountain, cloaked in snow. We had climbed to 2,600 feet, altitude that was soon eroded by an exciting jump strewn descent from the pass to the fords of Avon. Our progress was slowed here as the trail became strewn with large rocks, focus was required to pick a rideable line through a rock garden which stretched for miles down the valley. Some sections were walked, they could have been ridden on a full suspension bike or by riders who weren't pacing themselves for another twenty hours on the bike but we needed to conserve energy. 

Consequently the descent to the shelter at the Fords of Avon was slow and frustrating in places, but hike-a-bike is often the price of reaching the remote and spectacular vistas that surrounded us. The Fords of Avon shelter was actually a small shed nestled in behind a deep dry stone wall, it felt cosy inside and must be a life saver for those caught out by the elements. Luckily no such problems for us today as from here the trail slowly improved to a fast flowing ribbon of dry sandy earth down into the valley and along to a disused farm house. Not long after we reached a brief section of road at the Linn of Dee and took advantage of the tail wind as we headed south west up the valley on the final section of our first ring of the loop. The valley was wide and featureless, I was aware that we'd be returning here in several hours time as the second ring of our loop returned along this track but split off to the south further along. We stopped at the fork and I enjoyed a couple more of the burritos I was carrying, both slightly worse for wear after sixty miles off road. Meanwhile Saul attempted his customary afternoon nap, we weren't racing today.

After the earlier delays caused by hike-a-bike I was apprehensive about whether there were several more miles of it coming up on the climb over the watershed to Glen Feshie. The estate track became a grassy and boggy single track which forced us to dismount every hundred metres or so to cross peaty morass. At least the climb to the watershed was gentle and eventually we started to descend again into Glen Feshie. The valley was steep sided and clad in thick heather, we lost height rapidly whilst the river Feshie surged in size with the addition of each stream tumbling down the side of the hill from high above. After a brief stop to enjoy the late afternoon sunshine we needed to ford the river, fortunately it had been fairly dry here in recent days yet I was soon wading knee, and then thigh deep in the crystal clear water. The current tugged at the wheels of my bike sweeping it from the riverbed and dragging us downstream. Not a crossing I'd want to attempt in the middle of a wet spell. From here we enjoyed a mixture of estate road and trail centre quality singletrack as we followed the valley west back to Feshiebridge. Littering the now meandering river bed was the aftermath of a big winter storm, uprooted trees and sections of road and trail stolen by flood waters desperate to escape the glen. 

Our second visit of the day to Feshiebridge meant that we'd completed one ring of the loop, just the northern outer ring remained and fortunately we were now making good time on the road northwards for a few miles towards Aviemore. Lush woodland bathed in golden evening light and a few easy miles were just what we needed, a chance to let arms and wrists recover from the miles we'd covered in the mountains. We spent the hour before sunset riding quiet forest tracks disturbing the occasional deer under clear blue skies now tinged with all the colours of the spectrum from yellow to violet. The cold north easterly wind gained strength and extra layers were donned. Within a few miles I was wearing everything I was carrying including the white leg warmers that made me look like a marooned roadie up here on the mountain trails. Lights were needed as we approached Tomintoul and I looked into the cosy houses that we passed with a some envy. Would I swap a peat fire, a dram and a good night's sleep for our adventure?  

We reached Tomintoul just in time to find an open pub where Saul bought us crisps, coke and cake for later.  The ride from here to Inchrory in the absolute darkness of a Highland night was through thick mist and I became disorientated, unable to tell whether we were climbing up a valley or descending. After ten miles or so the trail kicked skywards on a steep gravel climb which rewarded with the most amazing views as we exited through the top of the low cloud into a starry moonlit vista which looked too beautiful to be real. Mountain tops poked though cotton wool cloud to soak up the milky glow of the moon whilst a thousand and one stars vied for attention above us. We stopped and turned our lights off so we could fully appreciate the beauty around us. It was a view that you would never see unless you were to stray from routine to enter this parallel nocturnal world, thoughts of cold fingers, aching legs and other temporary hardships vanished in the face of the beauty that surrounded us. 

As if this wasn't reward enough the descent into Braemar was fantastic fun and had us grinning into the darkness, we flew round natural berms and plummeted towards the valley floor. The centre of Braemar was unsurprisingly deathly quiet, we sat on a bench in the centre and enjoyed the cakes from Tomintoul before pressing on up the road on our second visit to the Linn of Dee. There was a possibility of more hike-a-bike up the Dee valley but fortunately little transpired. We followed a tight sheep track above the river until we realised that we'd gone too far and missed our turnoff. It was difficult in the darkness to see where we'd missed the turn but we found it and trudged up steep switchbacks to the top of the hill where we'd be able to ride again. As the sky slowly became graphite, then dark blue and then lighter blue we noticed the grass become crusty. There was a frost up here, we kept moving anxious to finish the loop before the chill could bite. The top of the climb led to a stream crossing where we found a farm high in the hills. A new farm access track allowed quick progress southwards towards Blair Atholl but the cold air chilled us on the descents and our bikes also suffered. Gear changes became more and more difficult until I could no longer change gear and was forced to climb and descend using the same gear. I guessed that the cables that had earlier been immersed in the River Feshie had now frozen preventing any change of gear. Not to worry, we're nearly back I thought. Or we would have been nearly back, except we talked ourselves into misreading the map and ignoring the GPS trace at the next turnoff, fatigued group think rewarded by seventeen bleak road miles running on fumes through freezing fog to Blair Atholl. Conversation dried up replaced by a silent focus to finish, I hoped for more climbing to warm up frozen digits and a chilled core. By the time we reached the van I was so cold I had stopped noticing but it took two hours in the van wearing a down jacket with the heater on before I felt warm again. Driving south between roadside naps we were pleased to be finished but sad to be leaving Scotland on such a beautiful sunny day, we'll return soon for another epic no doubt.

Gear

Cannondale F29er 

Apidura half frame bag

Exposure lights

Stats

200 miles, 12,478ft climbing, 19hrs 36mins moving time

Thanks to Velofondista for bike preparation and Saul Muldoon for some of the photos