Torridon at last

There's no escaping the plaudits that Scotland gets for the quality of its Mountain Biking - both the organised trail centres and the "natural" routes that are available through Scotlands relaxed land access laws. Time and again they are internationally awarded and feature in many "must do" travel guides. High amongst the recommendations are the trails in and around Torridon. However I'm rather ashamed to admit that, despite walking many of them during my Munro bagging exploits,  I'd never ridden these trails. With a wee bit of determination to put this right I loaded the Blur into the van and headed off towards Torridon hoping for some great weather.

Well, I was a wee bit disappointed when I got there to find low cloud and a fine drizzle blocking the view of the summits but, leaving the van behind at the visitor centre, I set off into the headwind, uphill towards the start of the Coulin Pass. I knew this was the least hilly of the options but, having passed the Right of Way sign on many occasions, I was determined that this would be part of the outing. 

It's pronounced "cow-linn" (apparently)

The ride started well enough with a spin along an easy estate road and past the two lochs. The climb out at the end of the glen went in easily enough too and I was, by now, beginning to get used to the feel of the smaller wheels on the Blur, plus the rather unfamiliar feel of the frame bending in the middle. Over the col and there was a sign relating to forestry work and pointing out a diversion. I reckoned that there would be nothing going on, it being Sunday afternoon, and whizzed down the wide, fast forestry road to Achnashellach station and the most complex set of bicycle lanes to be witnessed in the highlands. 

Looking along Strathcarron

 Another scoot along some tarmac (aided by the wind this time) and I was at the start of the "big" bit.

Definitely "coo-lags"

I'd looked at my GPS before starting this bit and noticed that sunset was due in six hours (it's shown on the "home" screen). I recall thinking "great - no hurry" and then comparing this to the rather rushed and panic-stricken mode I'd been riding in for the last few months. Here was a chance to savour some great Scottish scenery without worrying about how fast or slow I was covering the ground. 

The track again starts easily enough but there are a few steep bits before the bothy and more than enough water bars to interrupt the flow. I can be quite happy tackling these on the bike but it very much depends on where I am and who I'm with. Alone in Torridon aren't the best circumstances to suffer a major wheel problem or a stupid fall. 

The weather did pick up for me too.

Coulags bothy

After the bothy the track deteriorates into a boggy mess for a while but picks up again before the climb up to Loch Coire Fionnaraich - and the view to the path out of the corrie. 

The last of the riding for a while

That'll be the path to the col then

Across the top of the Bealach na Lice and the main fun is delayed for a while circumnavigating the edge of Loch an Eoin. Then, with a view north to tempt you, it's all downhill as fast as you dare. I thought I was doing fine, the full suspension of the Blur working hard, until I had one brief moment of indecision. With a large rock ahead, I had to opt to go left or right of it, chose neither, and hit it head on resulting in a comedy over-the-bars moment. That was enough to sober me up for a wee while but it's so much fun finding away down the various little drop offs and across the massive rock slabs that I was soon back up to full speed and having a real hoot.

Some of this stuff

Lots of this stuff

I can see the van from here!

Passing Carn Dhonnachadh I could see the settlement of Torridon far below me and I was expecting a really steep descent but the path contours further round to annat so the fun is extended quite a bit.

Finally, with a bit of a bump, I was deposited and Annat for a relaxing warm-down along the road to the van.

I also managed to fit in my May bivvy night after this ride. A drive out the long cul de sac from Gairloch to Red Point and then a short walk past the lovely beach to a little rocky headland had me in as lonely a spot as you're likely to find, with a view over the water to Rona and Skye and the Outer Hebrides just disappearing into the twilight, backlit by the setting sun. With nothing much to do but watch the birds and the waves, trying to work out if the tide was coming in or going out, it wasn't long before I had trouble keeping my eyes open and dropped off to one of the most relaxed sleeps I've ever had outdoors.

On the short walk in

Outer Hebrides

The tide was out....

Fellow campers

Rona and the Staffin peninsula from the bivvy spot

Back in the saddle

I guess that I should have expected some sort of psychological backlash after pulling out of the Highland Tail Race. The hours and miles I'd put in all suddenly seemed a bit worthless and, after a day out round Loch Katrine, the bikes had been hanging up in the garage, unused. Somehow, I just didn't have any enthusiasm to ride them for a day or two, a week, a fortnight...

Thankfully Ian, one of my occasional riding buddies, had been rounding folk up for a day round part of Perthshire and this had caught my eye for a couple of reasons; if there's such a thing as a "bucket list" of Scottish mountain-biking then the Atholl passes of the Minigaig and the Gaick are surely found in it. These old routes had caught my eye as a hillwalker and yet I've somehow never managed to cross them. I guess that the logistics of the long day between Blair Atholl and Kingussie, and then getting back to the start, never quite worked out for me. However, with a bicycle available, it suddenly looked feasible to do them both on the same day. 

The second reason is that I'd seen bit of both routes from the north end last year and I was keen to see how they both arrived in Glen Tromie. That would give me some possible long distance routes from home.

On the day, the weather wasn't that great looking - in fact, it was lashing it down as I passed Drumochter. However, it was at least holding off as Andrew, Ian and I geared up for the ride in Calvine. 

It's a bit of a sharp start after crossing the A9, but once some height is gained there's a fairly easy spin along Glen Bruar. The track is certainly a lot less rough than when I'd previously cycled here - all of 20 years ago on my way to climb Beinn Dearg. The other thing that had changed was that the river was almost dry - a result of a new hydro scheme perhaps. Certainly, the approach to Glen Bruar from Glen Banvie is now a lot easier. After passing the lodge, the track starts to get a little steeper and then it's the end of the glen with a steep rise up ahead. 

Where the walking starts

We'd already worked out that this was the time to get off and push and, though it rose steeply, it was reasonably easy going. As the plateau was reached, and the ground started to flatten out, it was off/on the bikes for a while until we eventually reached the summit and started the fun bit! 

On or off the bike - you choose

Finally, some downhill

Still plenty of snow up here too.

Sadly, that was to end all too soon as the track deteriorated into a muddy, squelchy quad track and then through wet bog and heather. Having made the mistake of choosing neither waterproof boots nor waterproof socks, my feet were now sodden. Still, it made fording the numerous rivers and streams easier as I just ploughed through rather than delicately selecting stepping stones. 

Once in Glen Tromie, I recognised part of the track I'd done last year from Glen Feshie. I knew that the percentage rideability was increasing, which was a wee boost. Descending down to the weir, I'd taken a slightly different line from Andrew and Ian and almost ran over an adder sunning him(her)self. Leaving the bike as a marker I called out to the guys to take a look but it was a bit shy and they only managed to catch a glimpse of its tail as it slunk into a wee hole under some heather. 

Another river crossing saw us onto a decent track for a while and then it was up along the Gaick. This is a much lower, faster, easier route than the Minigaig (it was once considered as an option for the main road north rather than Drumochter) so we made pretty good time despite the headwind. 

Looking back through the Gaick

Another river forded and we were at Loch an Duin. Here, again, there was some on/off bike action, especially given legs were beginning to tire. Still, it was all downhill from here (Andrew would disagree) and the weather was as good as we'd had all day, so it made for a pleasant end to a grand day out in the hills.

I was really pleased to be able to tick off two routes I'd long want to do and it was great to get a bit of a leg-stretch again after my withdrawal from the HTR. A massive thanks has to go to Ian for arranging it and giving me sufficient incentive. 



(and thanks to both Ian and Andrew for the use of their photos)

Count me Out

The past few months have seen me obsess over the forthcoming Highland Trail Race. I've been poring over maps, doing lots of extra riding, tweaking my equipment choices, planning stops and logistics and basically boring the hell out of my wife. I've certainly been making the most of any opportunity to get out on my bike, though it's sometimes felt like a bit of a chore rather than just being for fun. 

Last weekend I took the opportunity to do a reconnaissance of part of the HTR route and to get in an overnight bivvy. Starting at Laggan gave me the opportunity to cross the Corrieyairack East to West for the first time, something I'd been thinking about all year but had delayed due to the record levels of snowfall in the mountains. The weather was excellent as I started out, with not a cloud to be seen. 

Cloudless morning at Loch Spey

The road section up to Garva Bridge and then to Melgarve bothy went in easily enough and then it was on to the rougher (but recently resurfaced) track. A few of the stone water-bars proved to be deep and tricky and I opted to get off the bike for a couple. No point in having a stupid accident this early! The foot of the zig-zags was soon reached and I reverted to a little pushing up his section, climbing up through some large patches of snow to the little hut on top. 

Last of the snow patches on the Corrieyairack

Hills, hills and more hills

From here, the view west was amazing with snow-mottled mountains ringing the horizon. The descent is a full-on blast with the only major hazard being watering eyes. A couple of smaller climbs and descents and I was soon at a very busy Fort Augustus. 

First view of Loch Ness

A great day for messing about in boats

My plan here had been to check out a little cafe I'd eaten in on a previous trip and to check out what time they opened for breakfast but, despite it being a busy Easter Sunday, they were closed. I found a little chippie-type restaurant round the corner but after standing in a stationary queue for ten minutes opted just to grab some stuff from the supermarket and eat it al fresco. 

The next section follows the Great Glen Way all the way to Fort William so it's partly canal towpath, partly old railway bed and partly forest track. Another little detour en route took me to the shop at the Well of the Seven Heads, again to check opening times. I made it just as they were closing up for the day so opted for an ice-cream pick-me-up. 

Ben Nevis backdrop

Reaching the public road to Loch Arkaig then had me searching for a little detour by the lochside - the signpost for which was hidden behind a cunningly-parked car. This was a lovely little section with definite potential for some wild camping. I was running fairly close to my planned schedule at this point so opted for food in Fort William - an unashamed indulgence at McDonalds proved just the thing. 

Nom, nom, nom

I'd also realised just before here that the second days riding would see me pass no food stops of any kind, so stocked up with some snacks to carry me through. It was just before 6pm when I headed along Glen Nevis on the West Highland Way and I reckoned a couple of hours riding would get me well into the Lairigmor as planned. 

On the West Highland Way above Glen Nevis

The initial climb out of the glen proved to be OK, until I met a "track closed" sign. It was obvious that some timber extraction was in progress but I (correctly) reckoned there would be no one working on a Sunday evening so skipped around the gates for the short distance involved. I was very glad I had as the signposted detour from a lower forest track ended up with an incredibly steep ascent back to the normal route. 

Once the forest track ended, the WHW simply got steeper and more difficult to ride and I was eventually reduced to pushing and hauling the bike along, including a steep section of steps with a handrail on only one side and a potentially high penalty for loss of balance. I was therefore happy when the path started to level off again and I could get in some more riding. The sweeping singletrack along here towards Lundavra proved to be a highlight of the trip with some easy inclines and rocky steps. After the pleasure however, comes the pain and as the track carried on up again it developed into a massive boulder field. To exacerbate matters, I seemed to be riding into a wind-tunnel and the combination of tired legs, boulders, a laden bike and the headwind meant I was reduced to walking long sections. As I did so, I became increasingly aware of falling behind schedule. 

Tigh na sluebhaich

I passed three French guys who were pitching their tents, watching the setting sun out west while I pushed on eastwards, determined to reduce the distance I'd need to ride the next day. The strong wind threatened to make any overnight stop up here a bit of a pain, so I decided to push on to the relative shelter of Kinlochleven. With darkness falling fast, I reached the final descent, making reasonable time until the path disappeared into the woods, whereupon I was, once again, reduced to pushing the bike downhill. 

Last of the daylight with the Pap of Glencoe in the background

By now, I was fed up of chasing a target time and distance, of concentrating only on getting somewhere and not being able to stop to take in my surroundings. A stunning West Highland evening had come and gone and all I'd been able to think about was plodding on regardless. When I came to a little spot in the woods just outside Kinlochleven, I decided to adjourn to the pub for a couple of beers to analyse my feelings in some comfort before retiring for the night. It didn't actually take me long to reach my decision - the HTR just wasn't going to happen for me. 

I weighed up all the pros and cons; the challenge aspect remained, a big eight-day outing in stunning scenery. However, I was already sick of the single-minded focus needed to maintain the required pace and the thought of riding alone for eight or more days was just depressing. With that out of the way, I set off up the hill a little to set up camp for the night and settle in a little less pressured. The combination of tiredness and a couple of pints of Trade Winds meant it wasn't long before I was fast asleep.

Bivvy above Kinlochleven

If Sunday had been all about decision making, Monday served to absolutely confirm I'd made the correct choice. My mood hadn't changed much the next morning as I ate breakfast and started to pack up and wasn't helped any by the huge climb required out of Kinlochleven towards Loch Eilde Mor. 

A bit of a climb from my sea-level campsite

Room with a view

The headwind I'd hit yesterday had got worse and I knew that I'd basically be heading into it all day. Ride, walk, push was the repeated pattern for the next couple of hours until I eventually spotted the buildings at Luibielt.  

Luibeilt and Meannanach Bothy

The Abhainn Rath and the Grey Corries

Here, the combination of big snow deposits and high temperatures had resulted in a fast-flowing, relatively deep Abhainn Rath and it took me a little while to find a decent crossing spot. Boots and socks off, boots back on to cross and thankfully the water wasn't very cold. I'd passed this way several years ago and had a recollection of there being many deep ditches along the route following the river downstream. That meltwater had made them even worse and I found myself once again manhandling the bike up, down and across them all. 

Final view of Ben Nevis

Pace now had slowed to less even than normal walking speed and I was starting to do all sorts of mental calculations about my ETA at Laggan. An initial 2pm guess soon became 4pm and as the "walk with a bike" progressed, became 6pm and even later. I was even starting to consider get-out options such as detouring to Corrour Station and getting the train north for my wife to come pick me up. However, I pressed on, glad of any longer rideable sections and was relieved to see Loch Ossian on the horizon. 

Loch Ossian (the Youth Hostel in the trees on the right)

From here, the path on the south side of the loch had been repaired a little since my last visit and I found it much easier going. Once the lodge was reached, the track became a vast, smooth motorway and, with some wind assistance, I found myself belting along it, going at a decent speed for the first time since yesterday afternoon. Thoughts of an early bale-out soon disappeared and I set off from Moy to Lochan na h-Earba with a bit of renewed vigour. Here, the wind hit me full-on on again but with the miles counting down and an end in sight it was easier to dig in and find the reserves required. the final couple of miles along the road to Laggan went in pretty simply, arriving just after 5pm, and I don't think I was ever so glad to see my van parked there.  

197km/3200m of ascent

Over the two days, I'd ridden for some 20 hours and covered about 122 miles. An eight day HTR pace suggests 70 miles per day. So, overall, I'd eventually managed a reasonable average pace, but I knew that there was little left to give and the thought of having to do another 20 miles or so would have driven me to despair - let alone having to repeat the exercise for six more days with an even more laden bike.

My admiration for the participants has certainly increased a couple of notches (it was already incredibly high). I guess it's not just about fitness but also having the mental fortitude to press on for so long. For me, I reckon I'm on the limit of being fit enough to complete it but not to enjoy it en route. I considered turning up at the start and simply cycling at my own pace regardless but I know there's a waiting list so much better that someone more able, more driven, gets the opportunity to participate. On reflection, I reckon I'll plan to take things a bit easier, spend more time looking around me and enjoying being outside without having to be somewhere in particular. I'll be following the HTR with increased interest this year and might even turn up to take photos as participants complete the route. My best wishes go to each and every one of them.

On foreign shores

It's not often I've had the chance to ride anywhere other than the UK so when we'd decided to head out to Spain for a spring week, I took the chance to do some research on what my options might be. Fair to say that the Costa del Sol isn't exactly the best for mountain biking - too many busy roads / built up areas. However, I knew that not far inland there is a massive change of scenery and pace. Googling around, I managed to locate a couple of outfits based in Ronda and was soon in touch with Wayne from Hike and Bike. A couple of emails later and I'd arranged the rental of a bike and for Wayne to suggest a couple of routes for me.

Turning up on day 1, I was introduced to the bike, had my pedals fitted, a route downloaded to my GPS, a hardcopy map and given some advice by Wayne before setting off north of Ronda. The route turned out to be pretty inspired as it initially followed the railway line, making navigation a dawdle. Before long I was out into "proper" rural Spain and enjoying the mix of tracks and quiet roads. A couple of wrong turnings were involved - mostly when I was too busy looking at the scenery to pay attention to the route - but I was easily able to correct them. 

The town of Olvera, looking just stunning

The only major issue of the day occurred on an incredibly steep descent when my rear brake pads just wore out. A couple of messages to and from Wayne and I figured I'd opt to return by the "out" route to save any more steep stuff. This turned out to be a blessing in disguise as I was able to spend a bit more time (including a cake-stop) in the amazing little town of Setenil de las Bodegas, where the houses are built under the overhanging rocks. 

After a bit of further route-finding through some small farms and larger estates (complete with goats), the railway-side track made for an easy and fast return. 

Getting back to Waynes, I noticed that the rear wheel was actually wobbling - the result of a loose bearing. That would have accelerated the brake pad wear, so at least we had an explanation.



After a lazier day by the beach, I was back again for a different route. This one was a bit shorter, but included some more mountainous terrain. 

Looking back at Ronda from the first big climb of the day (into a headwind!)

This was definitely even more off the beaten track and had some amazing views. 

I could add a caption here but it's all explained in the next photo!

See!

Looking towards the South East, low cloud covering the coast

Local wildlife

Not the best place to stop for a drink

The GPS route also, handily, took me to a bar where a good sandwich and some local beer was thankfully consumed. 

Just the one occifer, honest!

The return to Ronda was mostly less hilly and led along a narrow gorge for quite a distance. The river looked superb - I wonder if anyone ever rafts it? 

Narrow, with a steep drop off. I was careful.

I met a group of women from Edinburgh of all places. One was kind enough to take this photo for me.

At the Cueva del Gato

Spot the cat yet?

Maybe this will help

The day ended with a view of Rondas famous bridge  - from the bottom - and a really steep climb up an old Roman cobbled road. Just enough to finish me off!!

Ronda across the valley

Fantastic old cobbled road

The famous Puente Nuevo

All in all, a really great experience. I loved the mix of tracks and roads, without anything too gnarly. It was just what I was looking for to get in some decent mileage. Wayne and Heather were really friendly and took some time to make sure I was happy with everything. Cycling in Spain looks like something I'd do again and I've now seen there's even a 2,000km circular route through Andalucia........