On the night of 10th of August 2014 the tale end of hurricane Bertha swept across Scotland leaving a trail of devastation. Not quite on the magnitude of what it had wrought in America but the damage it did seemed out of proportion to its magnitude. The problem was a rare dry summer which left the ground iron hard and impermeable. Several hours of torrential rain therefore went straight into the numerous rivers originating in the Cairngorms raising their levels in a few short hours to way above what even a winter storm could produce. Roads were washed away, bridges damaged, properties flooded. Within 24 hours rivers were back to normal and the clear up began.
This was in my mind as I approached the Fords of Avon deep in the heart of the Cairngorm Mountains. The sound of rushing water seemed loud in my ears. A group of walkers in front of me seemed oblivious and were more intent on enjoying the stunning scenery - maybe they weren't needing to cross. For me, this would be my biggest barrier, both physical and psychological, on this route I had undertaken. I knew if I could get across, nothing would stop me. If I couldn't it would be yet another failed attempt.....
That morning and thirteen days after Hurricane Bertha had done her damage I was getting my gear together in Blair Atholl ready to start a final assault on the Cairngorms Loop ITT. The number 13 was auspicious as this is the number of significant river or burn crossings on route. A previous attempt on a bone dry July weekend failed due to a combination of factors and a lack of motivation. Today my motivation was at its peak. I'd failed to do the Highland Trail earlier in the year and I was determined to do it in 2015. Route planner Alan Goldsmith was now requiring people wanting to do the group start to do one of several ITT routes to prove their worth. With daylight hours reducing daily time was running out. If I didn't do this route this weekend then I wouldn't have another chance and there would be no more Highland Trail. Friends added to the pressure with threats of much slagging off if I failed again.
I knew I could do it. I had the legs and the gear, I just needed to get my head in order, set aside weather and trail conditions and, in the words of my mate Rob, "Get your waterproof man suit on!" So at 7.30am I set off into a bright but fresh morning heading north.
Riding up the glen by the Edendon Water a large grey cloud rolled in and produced a dense fine drizzle. Not what was fore casted which put me in a grumpy mood. In fact the forecast for the weekend was good with a return to the weather that persisted for most of the summer and made everything so dry before Bertha struck. The drizzle soon blew through as I approached Sronphradruig Lodge and river crossing number 1.
This was the point where I got an inkling of what I would be facing. The route makes you cross this river twice in quick succession. On a visit here a couple of months previously this had involved stepping over a narrow channel for one crossing and riding though a shallow gravel bed for the next. Today the river was flowing swiftly though a deep but narrow channel at least thigh deep. Further up it looked worse. There is a way up the steep bank to avoid this but in the end I decided to keep to the route as near as possible by picking my way along the river edge and climbing up where the Gaik pass path starts. I put this to the back of my mind and also tried not to think of the many other rivers the route crosses. The trail through the Gaik was pretty damp but the sun was shining so my good spirits were back.
I'd kind of guessed the trails would be pretty wet and this had determined my bike choice. Not the Krampus this time but my beloved Salsa Mukluk which I knew would ride over everything in its path and hopefully wouldn't be too much of a drag on the easy sections. River number 2 is just before the Gaik lodge and usually no more than a shallow gravel bed. Once gain at the crossing point it was a deeply eroded channel in full flow but fortunately I was able to cross feet dry 50 meters further upstream
As I rolled out of Glen Tromie it was sunny but clouds lurked over the hills where I was headed. I knew all of the route having done it at various other times but I was feeling somewhat apprehensive about the passage through the main Cairngorm Massif and the infamous Fords of Avon. Riding alongside the Feshie revealed more devastation with a large section of the bank (and trail) gone since my attempt in July. The pleasant trails of upper Speyside and Glen More kept spirits high but everywhere I looked was flood damage. River number 3, the Druihd is crossed via the Cairngorms club footbridge. The trail after had clearly been underwater during the flood and was still wet. More rain came in as I reached the Glen More cafe so I sat inside and ate whilst it beat against the windows.
Climbing up to Ryvoan at 2pm seemed slightly bizarre as my first ride along the next section had started here at 7.30 am several years ago. Having done it the previous month I knew what was coming however so I cracked on up the long Climb up Bynack More. Descending into the long strath up to the fords of Avon was harder work than previously. The trail was saturated with peat under the gravel surface so wet even a 4" tyre was sinking in. This made for more pushing but I guess my pace was similar to previous when it had been bone dry, given the terrain. The sky was grey as I made may way up to the fords but no rain was falling. I waved at the group of walkers but made an effort not to chat as I was fully focused on the river ahead. River 4, the Avon is a significant watercourse draining a vast area of peaks above 1000m. Its a geographers heaven around here. In fact the wee burn the route crosses after descending off Bynack more, which is only a few K from the Fords of Avon, flows in the other direction and doesn't join the Avon until near Tomintoul, some 30k downriver and over 120k further along the route!
With my heart pounding I surveyed the river in front of me. The stepping stones I had picked my way across several Weeks ago were covered by at least a foot of water. "Don't think, do" I thought. Boots and socks off, socks into shirt, boots back on, bike on shoulder, go. Balancing on a series of round rocks with fast flowing water calf deep and 40lbs of bike and gear on your shoulder is not for the faint hearted. The front wheel dipped into the water and nearly had me over. I faced upstream and side stepped across. Getting out on the other side was a massive relief, I was on my way.
The next section of trail is hardcore as previously noted in my tale of my failed attempt. That time I was on a mission to ride everything I could. Today I was taking it easy and was happy to push knowing this would give contact points a rest and stretch aching muscles. Topping out on the Lairig an Laoigh was a good moment as I now faced a long descent and some easy pedaling.
I should have known. The trail was wet and much more washed out than previously. Then came the next problem. The side burns. This aren't counted in my 13 rivers total but they were major obstacles. Not because of their depth - now no more than splashing wee burns but due to the massive scoured out channels they now ran in. One in particular took a deal of time to get through. It was a 6 foot drop down, across the burn and then a 6 foot scramble back up. With the bike this was hard work and seemed to take ages. Further down a vast area of mud and rock had slid down the hillside. There were footprints across it but my feet sank ominously as I tiptoed across, terrified of disappearing into a gooey mass, never to be seen again. The huge dips in the track down to Derry Lodge were a pain but at least I was making progress again.
At the Linn of Dee I stopped to eat food, use the loo and contemplate the next section. It would be hard and wet but I was on a fat bike. The muk had swallowed everything in its path so far and I knew it would take the infamous moor crossing from the Geldie to the Feshie in its stride. As I headed down from Linn of Dee the sun was shining and the sky largely cloud free. An NTS ranger in a truck seemed bemused by my bike - "I've never seen one of those before and we get all sorts up here!" I laugh and smile and talk about the weather. Several footbridges had gone and many miles of path. No idea where the cash was coming from to sort them. Hmmm that's the problem trying to build things in these places, nature just laughs at your efforts and destroys them at a whim. I had a quick glance at the Geldie (River number 11) to check out the level and it looked OK. Good I wouldn't be riding over the Cairnwell the next day then!
As I pedalled up towards Bynack lodge I was alone in the vast wilderness. I remember doing this in 2006. We had a map and no real idea of what was to come. In that event it was fine, a fair bit of path work had been done recently and the route was reasonably straightforward. Time and weather have taken their toll but even with the wet ground I made good progress again this fine evening. The fat bike justified itself purely on this section. Bogs were pedaled across with ease and the few rocks ridden effortlessly. The Feshie glinted in the evening sunshine down below me and a gentle North Westerly breeze kept me cool. Despite its grim reputation as a bog fest this is one of the wildest traverses in the British isles you can do on a bike. The landscape with its wide river valleys and huge rolling hills seems vast. I've been through here a few times now and ridden other routes in the area many times but it never fails to impress.
River number 5 is the Eidart and crossed with a seriously rickety looking bridge. Given its precarious location it would not be good news if it failed underneath you. I'd not done this route in this direction since our ride in 06. Its a great descent. An argocat track has appeared in recent years but this should be avoided as its very wet. The line of the path is mainly gravel or rock with only a few wet bits and great fun. When you eventually hit the double track you'd be forgiven for thinking the worst was over but the best is yet to come.....
Oddly even recent editions of the OS map show this double track all the way to the now washed away bridge near to Glen Feshie Lodge. In reality its a tiny goat path of a trail with some rather hairy sections. The first bit is the worst - a narrow flywalk of a trail across a scree filled chute with several large rocks perched precariously above you and the roaring Feshie below. Its possible to miss this out if you can cross the Feshie but this evening there was no chance - waist deep and fast by the looks... Thereafter its a mix of fabulous single track, random bits of double track and the ever present river beside you. The Feshie is a monster and regularly changes its course during the frequent storms the area sees. The trail had been undercut in a few places and washed out in one but thankfully Bertha had forced the Feshie mostly in the other direction.
At Ruigh Aiteachain Bothy a new path has been built right along to the road. The GPX track follows the original route but a quick check showed that this had gone into the river... The new path was a peach with a smooth surface and only a few steps here and there. Oh and river number 6. This shouldn't be on the list as its only a side burn really but I got a shock when I approached. The new path had been trashed and the 'burn' was a wide flow with loose rocks, tree trunks and other debris littering its once smooth and narrow bed. The worst bit was fighting may way up the bank on the other side. Numerous small sitka spruce trees seemed determined to grab hold of the bike and refuse to let it pass. I finally swore my way up and back onto the path and pedaled off relieved that this time I really had got out of this lengthy section.
A couple of k later and I hit the tarmac. The route stays on road to Aviemore which might seem a little unimaginative given that it could follow the outward route or several variations thereof, all off road, however after a long day, finishing the inner loop with some easy pedaling on a deserted road was spot on. It was 8pm and I was riding with a huge grin on my face. Mileage was coming up to 100 and I was in fine fettle. The worst of the trails were done, rivers ahead were of a much smaller scale and I would reach Aviemore in time to get the chippy.
Rolling into town at about 8.30 I noticed rather a lot of large Harley Davidsons and their larger riders all strutting around the place. It was Thunder in the Glens - one of the biggest Harley Owners Group events of the year. I was on a mission to eat so ignored them all as I dived into the Happy Haggis Chippy on the edge of town and not far off route. As I ate a truly amazing fish supper I noted with amusement the reaction to the fat bike. It still amazes me that people seem to be, well amazed by the 4" tyres, especially as this is old hat now with 5" being the new fat. Oh well I guess these guys related to them given the size of the things adorning the back of some of the bikes parked up.
Heading back to the route I looked into the Bridge Inn thinking I might have a pint to celebrate my first successful day. As it happened my pal Iona was having dinner with a few friends and they had ridden the next section to Dorback that day so it was good to catch up and get the low down on the trails (and rivers) ahead. All seemed to be good so I left them to their puddings and rode of into the now warm and dry evening well pleased with myself. It was now nearly 10 so a stop was in order. I had my tent with me so I was fairly flexible as to where I could get my head down. A few miles later I passed by Loch Pityoulish. A wee path entrance at the side of the road caused a screech of brakes - this would be perfect. And it was - a couple of hundred meters along, out of site of the road, was a nice level grassy area next to the loch. Up went the tent and I snuggled in for a nice long kip after my days efforts - 106 miles in 14 1/2 hours.
It was not to be. No sooner had I settled down when there was a loud bang from the direction of Aviemore. Not a 220 x 16 tyre letting go but the first of many fireworks. Worse, after they had finished all I could hear was the strains of various '80's heavy metal tracks wafting through the air from the Rally site which I'd assumed I was well away from but was actually only a k away on the other side of the Spey. Oh well ear plugs and the days efforts meant it didn't disturb me for long.
When I woke up it was to that feeling you get when you know you've slept in. Actually 6.30 am, around 2 hours after I'd hoped but the ear plugs meant I missed the alarm. Oh well too late now and I was in no mood to rush. A leisurely breakfast and a brew set me up perfectly. It actually rained for about 5 minutes as I was packing up but as I headed into Abernethy it was a fine clear morning with the promise of sun ahead. A special mention should go to the first bit of road into Abernethy. This is now unadopted so not maintained. Evidence of this was the enormous flooded section just after the turning of the main road. Bloody hell it was too deep to ride so I had to pick my way along the verge determined not to get wet feet right at the start of the day. I suspected that this wouldn't be the first obstacle the day would offer. Boy was I right....
Abernethy Forest is as fine a place as you could ever hope to ride a bike through on a sunny August morning. Its all Scots Pine and various other evergreen breeds excepting the serried ranks of Sitka which seem to make up so much UK forestry. Red Squirrels abound as well as Capercaillie which a cyclist will often see due to our quieter passage over the ground. A portaloo next to some forestry works provided a welcome pause and then it was up towards the Egg path, a particularly favourite trail of mine. River 7, the Crom Allt, was first but for a change a breeze as this too can be a bit wild. The egg path is a narrow defile between Eag (egg) Mhor and Carn a Loinne with views to the eastern 'gorms and the route ahead. It was a bit boggy still but the sun was starting to burn. It occurred to me that within 24 hours this route could be so much drier. Hey ho, them's the breaks.
The route to Tomintoul is a classic with generally easy trails and great views. River 8, the Dorback Burn, after the Egg path was much easier than I had feared. After a climb and a descent I contemplated river 9 and felt a now familiar sinking feeling. The river Brown is another smallish river where the route crosses it but it (and the route) follow a steep sided glen for about a mile in which its written its path with many variations over the years. An old double track is largely gone and the best way though is to follow a narrow winding trail which crosses the river once and then hugs the eastern bank. Hmm. The river had obviously multiply burst its banks and carved new channels everywhere. Deep pools and holes and countless loose boulders littered the valley floor. The GPX track just follows the old track but I headed towards what I knew from previous visits was the best way through. No longer. I found the path eventually after picking my way through the debris and a tip-toed crossing of the river. At first all was well but the last 200 meters were gone and I had to fight may way though a narrow strip of land between the river and the fence which was covered in Sitka spruce trees that once again seemed determined to prevent my passage. Finally I got out of it and picked my way round more scoured out channels and holes before climbing out of the glen.
Phew, it was a relief to get out of that. Now at this point in the route, scratching isn't to be thought of as the best way out is through. But it never entered my head in any case. Something had changed in me. I was now treating these obstacles as challenges to be overcome, not threats to success. I guess a bit of desperation played a part as its not like I could have back tracked at this point. Not so long ago that last challenge would have had me shouting and swearing but now I was just taking it all in my stride. Having a bike that would go over (or through) anything was also a big help....
Tomintoul is a key town on the Cairngorms Loop. Its a strange place - 2 dead straight main streets running up a ridge of land with only a few short side streets. Its elevation is about 340m in the middle and it fights for the claim of Scotland's highest village. A wild and bleak place in the winter but friendly in the Summer with many tourists and cyclists enjoying its facilities - a few good pubs and shop and the fire station cafe which supplied me with a fine second breakfast and lunch rolled into one.
Suitably fortified I started the long grind up Glen Avon. The Avon is huge here, even during normal levels. Damage from its flood was everywhere. The public road becomes private but its surfaced for several miles. A couple of sections had obviously been washed but these had already been repaired - this is a rich estate. The good news was the wind, fresh but firmly behind me all the way up this long, long climb. Past the lodge it gets steeper and rougher but I was feeling good and made good progress. The Avon defile had turned off heading up to the fords but the route keeps on south along a lesser burn (The builg) which gets crossed twice but only counts as one river (9) in my count as the lower crossing is easy, oddly enough. The dry weather was having an effect here too as the burn was low and my feet dry.
The loch Builg singletrack is nice and was finally showing evidence of drying in the sun. I turned into the wind thereafter but it was a cooling breeze not an impediment to progress. The river Gairn is number 10 but has a fine bridge across it. I knew what was coming - a big climb out of Glen Gairn and over to Invercauld. In the event it was fine and I got up it in good order and blasted down the other side knowing that I was getting to a point where nothing would stop me.
On the descent I made my one nav error of the route missing a lesser track turning off a wide gravel motorway. No choice but to backtrack up a hill. One last descent and then the only section of A road on the route. But the A93 was pretty quiet for an August Sunday and passed quickly. Braemar provided a final food stop and then I was off back to Linn of Dee some 20 hours after I'd been there yesterday - the price of a lie-in.
River number 11 is the Geldie. This also has a bad reputation for stalling walkers and cyclists in their tracks thanks to its huge catchment and fickle course. At the crossing point it flows through two engineered channels, one of which is typically dry. I've been riding through here for nigh on 20 years and the crossing had changed little over that period. Not now - both channels were heavily scoured and the river had trashed most of the grassed and rocky berm between them. A couple of walkers were busy dropping stones in the river to create stepping stones. They looked at me as if expecting me to help. No chance - I didn't like to say but they were wasting their time as it would all be gone that winter. (2017 edit - in Winter 2015 another storm wiped out more of the channels and left a mess of rock and mud through which the river flowed in several courses. In 2016 Storm Frank annihilated this and left the river in a wide and shallow bed) I got though dry again (more tip toes) and headed down a strong contender for my favourite trail in Scotland, Glen Tilt.
This is a cracker with some really nice riding down a narrow trail clinging onto the side of a ravine containing river number 12. In a just world the route would roll out of Glen Tilt back to Blair Atholl but its not to be. Near to the bottom of the single track it takes you across river 12 (The Tilt) and up a gruesomely steep trail out of the other side of the glen and over a boggy moor to Fealar Lodge. I passed a guy out on a day ride coming the other way (sensible) he made a comment about the suitability of my bike on this bog fest and I refrained from telling him what I was doing. Funny really some people feel the need to boast of such things but I tend to feel quite self conscious about it as people tend to think your mad for doing such a big route for no other reason than its there....
Whatever, the final climbs were coming. In terms of big steep climbs, the CL is actually blessedly free of them. This may seem odd when you eye up the Cairngorms on a map but in the main the route follows the bottom of long glaciated glens which make altitude slowly over many miles. The climb over Bynack More and out of Glen Gairn are the only real monsters but the two climbs after Fealer are pretty hard, given there appearance right at the end of this route. I was starting to feel the distance and there was a deal of huffing and puffing out of both Fealar and Glen Loch. The last is always the worst.....
The descent saw a further comical nav error as my tired brain failed to equate the purple line on the GPS to anything on the ground. In the end I just rode in the general direction of the route over whatever was in my way. River 13 is the Allt Coire Lagain - actually an un-regarded blue line on the map but today provided a final opportunity to get wet feet which I took with enthusiasm. I just couldn't be bothered trying to pick my way across feet dry I guess and so stumbled across any old how. The last track dragged interminably but finally I hit the road, a final track and then rolled out onto Blair Atholl Main Street, 34 hours and 54 minutes after I had departed the previous day. I took the mandatory photo at the station clock, threw the bike in the back of the car and drove home with an incredible sense of achievement (and relief) that I had done this route at long last.
In some ways I was glad of the challenging conditions. I had definitely turned a corner both in terms of the physical ability to ride for long hours but also being able to deal with obstacles in my path (and in my head) in good order. I knew that this would set me up perfectly for next years Highland Trail.
Phil Clarke August 2014
