May Summit Bivvy

Well, the weather has certainly been somewhat variable. Late snow falls and then a mini-heatwave gave me the idea of doing a high bivvy I had promised myself over the winter but had somehow never fitted in. 

I left around 17:30 in scorching heat and headed up towards Glenmore when I bumped into Neil out for a wee spin and he accompanied me for a bit of a chat (and was on hand to take a photo of/for me). 

Once at Glenmore, the hard work begins so it was a grind up the ski road to the Sugar Bowl car park then up the old zig-zags and thence to the car park.  

I made an effort to cycle up the main access track as much as I could but it's incredibly dry and dusty so traction was almost impossible to find. Luckily, I didn't have to cross any snow until past the Ptarmigan. What little there was created a bit of extra drag on account of it being so soft. With time in hand, I made it to the summit and worked out where the best shelter would be. 

I found a wee spot in amongst the rocks and laid out my bivvy bag, mat and sleeping bag before getting some water on for some soup. It was very relaxed, with only the occasional whirr of the Automated Weather Station for company every 30 minutes. I hoped it wouldn't be so loud as to stop me from sleeping. 

I watched the sky gradually change colour then, just after 10, I flashed Mim with my torch a couple of times and she confirmed she could see me from our bedroom window. That was quite a weird feeling; on the one hand quite remote, but with this very strong connection to home. 

I awoke just after midnight; (1) the moon turned out to be very bright, despite the overhead haze, (2) the wind had shifted and I could now feel it buffeting my bivvy bag and trying to get in the top and (3) my bladder was crying out for relief. The latter made up my mind. I quickly exited the bag, did the necessary, then picked up the bag and moved it round a bit to a big rock shelf I knew from a previous bivvy. However, I was now even more under the glare of the moon. Luckily, my hat was big enough to roll it down and cover my eyes. Though I could still hear the wind, I was now well out of it and settled back to sleep.

By 3:30 or so, the wind had turned again, strengthening too, and I was getting more buffeting which was also cooling me down quite a lot. I now faced the bivvy-dwellers dilemma - get more sleep or stare transfixed at the developing colours in the sky. 



After a while, I cooried down, knowing it wasn't too long before sunrise. At 4:30 I had the water on again for coffee. I've been experimenting with meths stoves recently, in preference to wasting partly-filled gas canisters and not had a lot of success. As it turns out, my meths was just getting too cold. This time, I had the bottle in a bag and the bag inside my sleeping bag being warmed up by my body. This worked a treat and it lit first time. 

After watching the whole of the north-east sky turn a flaming red, the sun eventually burst through and I could immediately feel some warmth from it. 

Packing away my gear, I took the mat out of the bivvy bag and found that the bottom of it was absolutely drenched through condensation. I guess an indication of (a) how cold the rock had been and (b) how well the mat worked given I had been warm enough on it all night. 

The return trip through Glenmore highlighted just how cold it had been, with frost on some of the parked cars. Back in the sunshine, however, it was again very pleasant.

Oh - and no midgies or ticks! This summit camping has much to recommend it.

Summit Solstice

For a few years, when I was working at the Bank, I managed to persuade some colleagues that seeing the midsummer sunrise from the top of a mountain would be a very cool thing to do. Three years we tried and only on the first - at Cairngorm - were we successful. I thought it was about time to retry the venture and managed to rope in two local buddies, both keen to try out their bivvy gear with a bikepacking trip.

Initial plans had involved beer and food in a bar but we instead met up later and pedalled up the Old Logging Way just as the sun was officially setting.  The sky looked amazing as the sun dipped below cloud level and we barely needed our lights on the first part of the ascent to the main car park at Cairngorm Mountain. 

Old Logging Way approach

Time for a photo stop

I can see my house from here!!!

It was windy though, and this made the tough climb up the main access track even harder. What's more, it didn't bode well for a summit bivvy.

Alasdair has obviously been eating his carrots

Adam on the old zig-zags

Final climb to the Ptarmigan

On reaching the Ptarmigan restaurant we found that it was quite a bit calmer and that we wouldn't have to invoke our contingency planning of bedding down in the restaurant viewing balcony.

The final part of the ascent saw us encountering the occasional bank of hill mist, it looking quite spooky in our lights. 

Spooky shadows on the mist

I'd expected we'd encounter other like-minded adventurers but we had the summit to ourselves. Maybe just the fact it was midweek, though the weather forecast had looked ok.

In trying to locate a suitable bivvy spot, I was only after something out of the strong wind and reasonably flat. A slabby area in the lee of the summit cairn turned out to be pretty much perfect. Adam and Alasdair both chose grassy patches not far away and after a bit of chat and a swapping of hip flasks it was time to get the head down for a couple of hours before sunrise.

Robo-Adam

I soon nodded off, only awaking when my alarm sounded after 4am. The hill mist was still below summit level and it became obvious we were unlikely to catch any glimpse of the rising  sun. That being the case, I snuggled back into my bag and dropped off to sleep for another couple of hours.

Adam contemplating the slope down to Loch Morlich

After 6, I heard Adam and Alasdair chating and we decided to head down the hill. I felt pretty much rested but I knew they'd not had the same amount of sleep and were keen to get home to a "real" bed for a few hours. Maybe that's the difference in kipping out more regularly - you become accustomed to it.

Mist in the corries

My bed

The descent down the main access road proved to be fast and very, very loose and we all had smelly brakes when we reached the mid-way point.

It was great pulling into Aviemore as the town was waking up, thinking "I've already been up a mountain today". Perhaps next year I might manage to persuade a few others to join me. We might even see the sunrise again!

Northern Cairngorms loop - revisited

I'm easily led. In trying to come up with an idea for Junes "bivvy a month", we were always likely to be constrained by me not currently having a van so when Neill suggested doing the Northern Cairngorms loop it was an easy decision, despite the fact I'd been round just last Autumn. On the other hand, it also gave Neill a chance to navigate using his newly-acquired Garmin Oregon with me overseeing it on a route with which I was familiar.

Always looking to experiment and/or improve things I opted to fit the suspension forks onto the Pact for a change. This was also partly due to a shoulder injury, figuring that a bit of bounce would relieve any stress. I also fitted the Revelate Sweetroll rather than the Harness/Saltyroll combo I'd been favouring. The Sweetroll has additional strapping points to fit it better to the Jones Loop bars and I wanted to see if this was worth it before, potentially, selling it.

Ready for the off

The weather forecast was mild, a light breeze. With the potential for midge, I also opted for a tent rather than bivvy bag.

With a planned chippy at Braemar we were in no particular need for an early start and we left the Old Bridge Inn just after 10. The "puddle of doom" was encountered on the way to Nethy Bridge, Neill opting to ride straight through it with David and I attempting, unsuccessfully, to maintain drier feet by skirting round it.

A favourite singletrack section in Abernethy Forest

The Faeshallach and Dorback burns were quite low on account of a rather dry spell so it was no real surprise to find the Brown low too. Three dry-shod crossings of the meanders took us to the path on the south side of the glen and we managed to bushwhack through from there. 

Climbing away from Dorback

With the wee steep push up to the forestry track, the fast descent out and the final spin into Tomintoul we declared the first part of the ride a success and adjourned to the Fire Station cafe. We made it just before a coach party arrived which, given the speed of service, was a bit of a blessing. 

Tomintoul represents one of the significant turning points of the route and from here we turned south. Although I was familiar with the route I was holding back at any junctions in order to give Neill full practice with his Oregon.

A corner turned

The ride up the glen past Inchrory seemed longer than I remembered but we were soon enough on the Loch Builg track. Based on my previous experience I'd warned Neill and David that this section would involve quite a bit of pushing. As it turned out, I was completely wrong. Whether it was the bars, the forks, the drier conditions or (unlikely) my improved bike handling, this bit turned out to be a real treasure. 

    Passing Inchrory 

Lovely Loch Builg singletrack

Skinny dipping was considered....

New hut (closed to the peasantry)

The same couldn't be said for the slog to the new lunch hut above the River Gairn. The wind had been strengthening all day and now we were fully into it. After a few minutes at the hut it was then the climb over Culardoch. Despite the headwind, I decided to dig in and ride the full climb. A couple of sideswipes had me almost off the wide track but I made it with no dabs. That meant a 15 minute wait at the top of the climb until Neill and David appeared. 

DRAMATIC!!!!

Neill ecstatic as he reaches the top of the climb

Given how blowy it still was I was keen to get down again and we made a fast descent into the pretty woodlands near Invercauld. I stopped at a junction here, determined not to be taking the lead and, while faffing around with my camera, looked up to see Neill charging down the wrong descent. Despite pedalling - and shouting - as hard as I could it was almost 1.5km before Neill heard me. That meant another climb before we got back on track. 

Time lost meant we were now concerned about the chippy opening hours and we were very glad to see that it was still serving when we arrived.

We didn't plan to go too far after dinner, so set out to get past Linn of Dee and see what turned up. After a couple of miles we saw a reasonably sheltered spot but decided to press on to White Bridge. The flat grassy area here looked great but was quite exposed to the wind. A search further up the glen didn't prove fruitful  (the one sheltered spot was already fully occupied) so we were left in a bit of a quandary. With dark clouds coming over the mountains and the time of evening I wasn't really in the mood to keep looking.  I've been caught before with these dilemmas and experience says "take what's on offer" so I backtracked to White Bridge just as David and Neill took another look somewhere else.

As it turned out, this was a master stroke. I found a tent-sized spot behind the bridge and was soon pitched with hip-flask in hand.

Cold and cold running water

It was a tight squeeze

It was an uncomfortable night. I just couldn't get my temperature right. It was too warm to be fully in my sleeping bag - I woke up a couple of times with sweat running down my neck - yet too draughty to lie outside it. I've so far avoided buying a lighter weight "summer" bag but this had me reconsidering. Despite that, I awoke bright and early, checked Neill and David's tents were still pitched and set about breakfast. Still there - a second coffee then. 

As I was prepping to go I spotted their tents were down too so set off in pursuit. They'd stopped at the confluence of the Geldie and the Bynack to brew up in the shelter of the old red-roofed house as their camp spot had been just too windy. 

The Geldie-Feshie watershed was next and I recalled I'd struggled along here in the gathering gloom looking for somewhere to bivvy. In daylight it looked much more appealing, with several spots looking likely candidates. 

Another easy crossing

The drier conditions were obviously helping make it more rideable too but we were still reduced to a lengthy hike-a-bike to the Eidart. I actually took a little detour here, opting to follow the path shown on the OS map and part of the official Cairngorms Loops route. Suffice to say that both can safely be ignored in favour of the more direct route now plainly visible due to its popularity. The same can also be said of the short section immediately after the Eidart bridge.

The old route does give a better view of the falls.

The track all becomes rideable again as Glen Feshie develops - though the wee landslips and the crossing of the Allt Coire Gharbhlach still require some manhandling. 

Tricky with a loaded bike

We opted for lunch at Loch Insh Watersports centre before taking the Speyside Way from Kincraig to Aviemore. 

It was certainly worth repeating the route.  The two sections I struggled with last time were both more bikeable than I remembered/encountered and timings for their passage are useful to have in planning other routes in the area.

I'm torn on the Sweetroll/Harness decision. I prefer being able to pack the Saltyroll off the bike and just clipping it into the harness but the Sweetroll does sit "better" on the Loop bars with less rubbing of the headtube. Some further experimentation may be in order. 

Familiarity breeds....complacency?

I've written before that I'm incredibly lucky to be able to live in Aviemore as the selection and number of trails surrounding it is immense and varied. As is often the case, it takes an outsider to remind me of my good fortune and a few days ago I was showing some friends around some of the trails which resulted in some appreciative comments, e.g. "do you guys ever go home?" and a couple of wee videos edited together by Kenny Wilson.



Day 1 was the Burma Road from Aviemore, followed by a selection of other tracks to get us to Carrbridge in time for lunch and a quick spin back through the woods at Boat of Garten for ice cream at the Kilted Fudge Company in Dalfaber.

Making a bit of a splash

At the top of the Goat Track

Time to go down

Day 2 was a selection of little singletrack sections linked by the big track round Loch Morlich and Loch an Eilean before running down the top of "Cake or Death" for, err, cake at Inshriach. 

  

It's important to look up sometimes!  

  

Ross styling it before cake

Both days had a great mix of trails, banter and food - even the weather was behaving. 



I also managed a spectacularly stupid fall on one of the very easiest of easy tracks in Rothiemurchus. The cuts, grazes and gravel rash would be bad enough but I also landed very heavily on my shoulder which has resulted in quite a bit of pain. With a two-day bikepacking trip coming up, I'm keen not to push things too far so a bit of an enforced absence from mountain biking is in order.

A Northern Cairngorms Loop

Between walking and cycling I've managed to find most ways of crossing the main body of the Cairngorms but a couple of options had somehow eluded me. In an attempt to correct this oversight and as way of familiarisation of a possible future ride I chose to combine them for a short overnight bivvy. 

The first part of the ride was definitely familiar to me. The route from Aviemore to Tomintoul passes through lots of interesting spots. Safe to say this was by far the wettest I'd ever ridden it though. Lots of puddles and muddy spots didn't promise well for the later river crossings.

A wet warning of what was to come - bottom bracket depth.
The sign has to be a joke - there's no way round this.

Some of my favourite singletrack after Forest Lodge

Looking across to Strath Nethy

The Faeshallach was flowing but I made it across through careful use of boulders as stepping stones. I doubted the next crossing would be as straightforward.

The Faeshallach - I made it across here with dry feet.

Approaching the Big Egg (gaelic Eag Mhor - the big notch)

It's a cracking place for a ride

Some care required. Having an accident here would be no yolk.

Purple poo - a sure sign it's Blaeberry season

On reaching the Dorback Burn my suspicions were confirmed. Not only has the burn changed its profile through the gravel banks, it was flowing fast and deep. Knowing that the Burn of Brown was still to come, I didn't bother faffing and just waded straight across. That was the boots properly wet now, and no chance of drying out. 

The Dorback Burn. A change of direction and deeper than I've seen it.

Looking back at the Big Egg. I was going for another pun but I reckoned an oeuf is an oeuf.

The Burn of Brown was crossed three times before I made it to the path on the south bank. This wanders in and out of the trees a lot and, having wet feet already, I'm not sure it was worth the effort compared with just making more crossings. 

I wonder how many folk this has put on the right path?

The first of three crossings of the Burn of Brown

 On reaching Tomintoul, I popped into the Post Office for some food and drink, kicked back, took off my boots, wrung out my socks and let my feet air in the sun for a while. Of course, I'd no sooner done this when a big cloud came over and killed the warm sunlight.

Going my way?

Leaving Tomintoul I was finally on some unfamiliar territory. I have to say, the middle reaches of the River Avon are really very pleasant and there was a definite feeling of heading upwards and into more remote territory as I went. The road and track certainly made for good progress, though when this ended to become rocky singletrack it was even better fun. 

Just below Queen Victorias viewpoint.I bet she didn't cycle here!

Disguising itself as a fallen tree, the carnivorous Highland Bearcow awaits an unsuspecting salmon.

Reaching Loch Builg, the track became a bit more boggy and less well defined, necessitating a little walking but with already wet feet I wasn't making much effort to avoid puddles. 

Unexpected beach on Loch Builg

The climb up Culardoch went a little quicker than I'd expected. Perhaps it was the threat of the impending rainclouds approaching from Ben Avon. They finally broke as I was at the summit so I stopped being so stoical and donned a jacket for the first time of the day. 

The descent was on loose and steep estate road. I was always tempted to go faster but I kept repeating my two wilderness riding questions; where are you? and who are you with?  The answers kept coming back the arse end of the Cairngorms and I only have my Spot tracker for company. 

The descent off Culardoch just as the rains came.

Reaching the woods near Invercauld was a welcome change of scenery. There's a definite "Braemar-ish" feel around here that somehow differentiates it from the Rothiemurchus side of the massif.

Quite a welcome sight after the bleaker high terrain

Looking towards Braemar and Glen Dee (and a bed for the night)

Been there, done that.

Braemar was an opportunity to grab some food (from the chippy) and take stock. I'd not been watching the clock, occasionally trying to judge time of day by the amount of daylight. I was happy with it being not quite 7 o'clock and headed out towards Linn of Dee to ponder a bivvy spot. 

Getting nearer

Still too early - crack on

Demanding and potentially dangerous - just like being at home then!

Nice spot - but not for me

Linn of Dee came and went - far too early. White Bridge then? Too early and some campers already there. 


The Geldie would have to do. I got there just as the rain started and even looked at the old building as a potential stopping point but the midge were numerous and good ground hard to come by. I decided to head upstream. I knew that wet ground was sure to follow and hoped it wouldn't slow my progress too much but it became a bit of a boggy trudge, interspersed with the occasional bit of pedalling. I was now in that spiral where it was getting dark and I was getting increasingly slow, leading to it being even more dark as I headed towards the watershed. What's more, the whole area was sodden meaning I could see no decent bivvy spot. As it got darker, I opted to continue on to the waterfall of the Eidart, hoping that the change of terrain would give me more options. It turned out not to be so and I (carefully) crossed the bridge with the water roaring beneath me. By now, all I could make out of the track was the line of tyre-marked puddles. Another look at the map confirmed that I'd now be heading down to the riverside and closer inspection showed a building. I expected this to be a ruin but I figured that no one would build something the middle of a bog so this was likely to be my best hope for dry ground. 

I was, thankfully, correct. An old stable, walls mostly gone and with holes in the roof it did, however present my best bet for stopover point. I had, briefly, considered pressing on to Ruigh-aitchechan bothy in Glen Feshie but I knew this was likely to take quite a while, would involve crossing the landslips in the dark and might not make me too popular with anyone else already asleep there. My tarp made a useful temporary wall patch, cutting off the breeze coming from the west and though the ground was a bit rocky, the air mattress took it in its stride. A quick change out of wet gear and I was in the sleeping bag in double quick time. I had a stove with me but that seemed like too much faff and, having managed to forget a hipflask, I made do with some water and nuts for supper.

Not exactly 5 Star

It wasn't a bad night, the midge netting on the bivvy bag kept the menace at bay and I fell asleep very quickly. The 5:30 alarm call wasn't necessary though. I'd woken a couple of times and watched as the night broke into reluctant daylight. By 4:45 I adjudged it to be bright enough to consider making a move. A quick breakfast and hasty packing session before donning my wet clothes (brrr!) and I was on the move. Thankfully, I was able to pedal most of the way out, though I doubt I'd have made as good progress in the dark. 

A faint glow of sunrise

The upper reaches of the Feshie in this area have a definite non-Cairngorms feel about them. In fact, it reminded me of my trip into Kintail earlier this year. I was also coming back onto familiar ground and soon reached the area where two significant landslips make manhandling a bike a bit precarious.

A bit tricky this one - not to be attempted in the dark!

The purples of late summer developing nicely

Some astonishing light in the morning sun.

 I'd also somehow miscalculated how far these were past Ruigh-aitchechan and kept expecting it to appear well before it eventually did.  

The last bit of bike-pushing came when crossing the Allt Garblach. This minor river crossing was transformed into a deep canyon last year when we experienced lots of flooding. What was a nice stepped descent, small bridge and stepped climb out now necessitates a lot of manhandling on steep, loose ground. 

Allt Garbhlach devastation - check out the steps on the far side

A big drop from this side too

Easy to miss this in the dark - and suffer a serious fall

Back onto tarmac for the final stretch home

After that, it was a quick spin to the road (watching out for a further landslip area) and back towards Aviemore. Not yet 8:00, I arranged a suitable postscript in the form of breakfast at the Mountain Cafe with my wife. With my own breakfast gone, I was forced to finish hers - and a couple of rounds of toast. Safe to say, I did so guilt-free!! 

Fear not - there's bacon in there too!

136km, 2,061m of ascent

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