I also had a bike to test out. I've been playing about with road bikes for a few years now and ended up with a garden gate of a Cannondale which was too stiff, too big and too uncomfortable for anything but the shortest of rides. This had metamorphosed into a Surly Crosscheck which was a far better prospect. But my previous experience with cantilever brakes back in the days when there was no choice didn't endear me to this bike beyond a commuter and general road hack. Enter the Cotic X. This was a cross bike, steel and had disc brakes, something that was becoming increasingly the norm for cross. I'd heard good reports about Cotic and the X was a new model which looked like it would do everything I wanted a road bike to do, with the scope for some easy track riding. The frame, wheels and brakes arrived on the Tuesday so it was a bit of a rush throwing it all together in time for my Friday morning departure. A couple of rides round the block suggested all was well but I figured I could fettle it as I went along.
I'd booked a bike space on the Inverkeithing to Montrose train leaving at around 10.30 so I had plenty of time to pedal down to the station in the, as promised, blazing sunshine. I was cheating somewhat, accommodation wise, in that I was booked into the Ballater hostel on the Friday night, would stay with my Parents on the Saturday night and should be able to grab digs in Pitlochry on the way back south. This meant I was travelling light with just a change of clothes in a bar and saddle bag.
My route would start at Montrose and then head roughly north and west to Cawdor via Ballater. On the way I'd bag some famous climbs which I'd been meaning to do for many a year - the Cairn O' Mounth and the multiple monsters of the A939. Leaving Montrose quickly lead to that touring nirvana. I was on an empty C road and the sun was shining. I even had a tail wind! I could feel the pressures of normal life fall away leaving me in a world of my own. Ahead the hills of the eastern Grampians (known locally as the Mounth) rose ahead of me. I was passing through an area of rich farmland - the Howe of the Mearns - which is quite English in character and not what you may expect in Scotland which tends to be portrayed as all mountain and bog. An odd car came past but it makes me realise just how lucky I am to live up here as you can still have the experience of road riding with no other person in evidence.
Looking north across the Howe of the Mearns to the Mounth
I crossed under the A90 on the old road and then headed due north on an arrow straight road to Fettercairn. Through the stone arch in the middle of the town then more twists and turns to Clattering Brig. Thereafter the climb up the Cairn O' Mounth began in earnest. Its one of those great roads where you transition from rich farmland, to rough grazing to open moor, all within a few miles. It was steep and the sun was blazing, but the cool easterly made it a pure joy. I stopped at the summit for some time looking at the view
Of course this lead to a great descent - sweeping corners, fast straights, and no traffic. Hmm. Must try this on the motorbike. After passing through some fine woodland the road levels out and heads north west towards Deeside. I passed through a few small villages, obviously gearing up for the royal event with street parties planned. Given the nearby Balmoral, it is pretty royalist in this part of the world but I have little or no patience for such nonsense so rode through it all aloof. Deeside is great in that the main A93 takes all of the traffic but there is a near empty B road on the south side of the river which makes for fine cycling. I arrived at Ballater in the late afternoon 60 miles done, including the ten from the house to the station. I checked into the hostel and sat for a while eating and drinking tea, chatting to a French lady staying for the whole season. This is the first time I'd stayed in Ballater having previously stayed in Braemar. I have to say its a far nicer spot with proper pubs and none of the horribly anonymous hotels that plague the far more touristy Braemar. One such pub had several ales on, which I sampled prodigiously before turning in.
The next morning dawned clear and sunny. This day would see me tackling some of the biggest road climbs in Britain - the infamous A939 over three monsters, including the Lecht Road, being the highest public road in the UK. Off I went in a state of total relaxation having the gears to tackle anything and being in no rush.
Climbing out of Glen Gairn looking west to Ben Avon
Top of the first climb, looking back to Deeside and Mount Keen
Just off the summit is a turn off on Wades road past what used to be an independent hostel I'd stayed in some years previously. I'm on a cross bike, I have 35mm tyres, lets do it. It also cuts a big corner off the '939.
On Wades Road
Thereafter it was the monster that is the Lecht Road. This is what I would call a cricket bat hill. You turn a corner and its like being hit in the face with a cricket bat. Into your lowest gear and strain! And its a long one, you deal with the first steep, get a wee reprieve then the gradient ramps up again across an exposed moor. The good news was a continuous stiff tailwind. Finally I summited at the Lecht Ski Centre 2090 feet above sea level.
The descent was a hoot. I hit 57mph into what turned into quite a sharp corner. Fortunately the bike nailed it and the sweeping left hander which is a challenge on a motorcycle but easy at 30mph. Soon after I rolled into Tomintoul, half expecting a round of applause from the locals for riding such big hills. The Firestation cafe staff did express suitable amounts of impressed-ness but I reckon they do that to all cyclists. Here I languished for a while, eating much food and reflecting on a great ride. A couple of roadies turned up who were riding the A93 / A939 in a oner, having been dropped of at the start by helpful spouses. They seemed somewhat shocked at the length of the climbs and were fairly gobsmacked at me doing it on a cross bike with bags..... And here was me thinking it had been pretty straightforward!
After sitting in the sun eating cake and drinking tea for as long as I felt I could, off I went for more of the same. South of Tomintoul the '939 actually gets better. There is a short sharp climb out of Bridge of Avon followed by a short sharp drop into Bridge of Brown with some wicked hairpins. Then its bang; straight into another tarmac wall which leads to a steady grind up to 433m.
At the turn off to Nethy Bridge looking across the Cairngorms
North of Grantown is another large moor crossing but the gradients and elevations are much lower. A couple of miles north of Dava I turned off the '939 onto a C road (another section of Wades road but surfaced this time). I stopped and sat for a while just off the road taking in the views to the south (the whole Cairngorm panorama) and enjoying the hot sun and cool breeze - near perfect cycling conditions.
This wee road can be tracked roughly north-west through some very nice forests. There was precisely zero traffic and in fact no body around at all. Even the A roads were quiet. Maybe everyone was watching the wedding.... This road eventually joined NCN 1 near to Cawdor. This follows more wee roads and I turned west to track this for a bit to my folks' holiday cottage. They were sat outside in the sun so I joined them for a cuppa and then a beer, 65 miles and some big climbs done.
That evening I planned my next two days riding. Pitlochry seemed a good bet for day one as it would leave an easy day on Monday. Of slight concern was my realisation that it would be about 90 miles. The route would be fairly flat however so I figured I'd be fine. I did make a reasonable attempt at an early start however it would have been rude not to have one of my Fathers expert fry ups so it was after 10 before I hit the road, into an absolute roaster of a day.
My route was easy - continue on NCN 1 until it joined NCN 7 and then follow this to Pitlochry. I'd ridden this the previous year, as far as Aviemore, on my grand tour of the Western Isles and the North West. I'd ridden the bit between Pitlochry and Aviemore as part of the 'Millennium Ride' that Sustrans organised in 2000. I was the leader of a group of Sustrans supporters and we had a great ride powered by a huge tailwind. So today would be the first time I'd ridden the whole lot.
Its a good route. There are some long sections on the old A9 which is a huge wide road but it sees little traffic. These are linked by sections of new cycleway in the A9 verge which are actually pretty nice. Highlights are the railway viaduct over the Findhorn that you go under, a great old '30's bridge in Tomatin over the same river and great views of the Cairngorms which were still holding lots of snow from the monster winter. For once I wasn't going to be stopping at my pals in Aviemore as they were away. I blasted straight through, planning on stopping in Newtonmore for food. South of Aviemore you're on a very early version of the main road which is a quiet, twisty B road through Scots pine woodlands; the Cairngorms ever present to your left. I flew through Kingussie and stopped at a great truckers cafe just outside of Newtonmore. This provided lots of fried food although to be honest I could have done with something cool, given the blazing sun. The only slight downer was that my tailwind of the last two days was now a headwind. In view of the weather I couldn't really complain.
Heading south once more I came across a check. They were in the middle of dualling a section of road just north of Dalwhinne and the cycleway was shut for the duration. A sign indicated that you should phone a number and await a shuttle to the south side of the roadworks. A couple from London on bikes were there also and considering just riding on the road. I wasn't convinced however as the coned lanes were narrow so nothing would be able to get past you and the road was pretty busy. I dug out my phone and dialed the number. A broad cockney accent answered and told us to wait. Soon after a very large breakdown truck appeared driven by said broad cockney. He loaded up the bikes and we hopped into the crew cab. I chatted with him as he took us through the roadworks. He worked for a London based company who travel the length and breadth of the country providing breakdown cover for roadworks everywhere. They just stick a caravan on the back of the truck and drive to wherever the job is. We joked about him taking us all the way to Pitlochry but he wasn't allowed so we we're dropped just at the start of the back road to Dalwhinnie. I waved cheerio to him and the other couple and pedaled off into the stiff breeze.
Past Dalwhinnie I eventually topped out at Drumochter and began the long but gentle descent down Glen Garry. I reached Pitlochry at 6pm, 90 miles done right enough. I'd no digs booked but the independent hostel on the main street had plenty of room so I went for that, not wanting to bother with B&B's and their high prices. I had a dorm to myself at first but shortly after I arrived another cycle tourist appeared who was heading north. Oddly; as well as front and rear panniers, he was also carrying a rucksack. Inevitably he was German, a race who seem incapable of travelling light on a bike. Later on I spied him typing away on a laptop. I really don't get this. I go bike touring to get away from the modern world and I have zero desire to humpf it with me.
I went out for a wander round the town, ate fish and chips in the sun and then sat in the one reasonable looking bar in the place. I've had a few drinking sessions in Pitlochry, thanks to Uni cycling club weekends back in the '90's. Pubs here are either anonymous places that are overpriced and only seem to cater for tourists, with customer service somewhat lacking because of this. Or; locals only places which are scuzzy and distinctly unwelcoming to visitors. Compare this to places like the Yorkshire Dales, tourist central as they are, where all pubs seem to cater for tourists and locals alike and no-one minds. Plus they are always cheerful friendly and pub like, not some pseudo trendy bistro bar like I was currently sat in as I has these grumpy thoughts. At least the beer was fine, if expensive. I was sat at a large table but the place was filling up fast. A group of four appeared eyeing up my single occupancy and I deferred to them thinking I'd move on. In the event they insisted I stayed there so got involved in their in-depth discussion into whether Scotland should get independence, something that looks like is going to the vote fairly soon. I stayed for another drink then left them to their chat and wandered further around, tried another pub which was quiet then headed back to the hostel for bed.
Weather-wise, the next day was identical. I don't know how long this is going to last but I was pleased to have made the most of it. I figured on cutting west a bit this day to try and avoid the worst of the easterly gale that was blowing. More NCN 7 which follows quiet back roads and an old bridge across the Tay at Logierait, privately owned and maintained but with public access. I had a final bite to eat at Aberfeldy then ground up the big climb over the moor to the Sma Glen. Thereafter it was an oft used route tracing various wee roads to Dunning with one last climb up the glen, back to base for early afternoon, actually nearly 70 miles done!
Total distance was a creditable (for 4 days) 285 miles. The Cotic had been great - comfy, good brakes and fun to ride. It had dealt with mainly roads but had also proven its cross roots by dealing with a few tracks and rough cycleway. I successfully avoided everything to do with the wedding and spent some quality time with my folks to boot. I only returned to cycle touring last year after a twenty year break but I'm hooked once more. I've got another tour planned for the end of May, on the mountain bike this time, and many other trips in the planning.
