On Sunday 6th September I was sat on the top of Beinn Udlamain looking across Loch Ericht to Ben Alder, culra bothy clearly visible and a lot of of the West Highlands spread out in a vast panorama in front of me. It was warm, sunny and clear. It occurred to me that I should be doing the Cairngorms Loop this weekend as an ITT which would have meant a largely rain free passage of the route. Instead I was committed to the group start the following weekend. Inevitably the forecast wasn't looking too good with variations on a theme of breezy, rainy and cool.
By the Friday the forecast had settled on rain showers, rain, heavy rain, then rain. The only good news was (according to the Beeb) fairly light south westerly winds. This was pertinent to my bike choice as after much deliberation I was going with the Jones, complete with single speed. Leaving the house in torrential rain didn't fill me with much inspiration for the route ahead. In fact my motivation for riding in one of my favourite parts of the country in crap weather was rock bottom. It's a consequence of living so close to the Highlands - you can be choosy as to when you go and so maximise the chance of getting good weather. In the end I figured it would be worth going just to catch up with a few folk, have some banter and hopefully deal with the weather. If it all went pear shaped the double loop configuration of the route would make a bail out relatively straightforward.
The rain didn't last and arriving at Blair Atholl it was sunny but cool and breezy. I wandered up to the start at Old Bridge of Tilt and chatted to Bob and Cath whilst Colin (ITT co-ordinator this year) tried his best at cat herding everyone into lining up. Shortly after 10 (10.04 to be precise) off we went. The route cuts west along the old A9 and cycleway for the first few miles and it was breezy after the sheltered tracks through Atholl estate. A small amount of drafting was going on until people started to string out. My singlespeed meant a pace only suited to me but I chatted to Bob a fair bit as we hadn't seen each other since Tyndrum in 2019. I wandered across the A9 in the face of much traffic and onto the first climb up to the Gaik.
Looking up the Eddendon water to the Gaik pass
The pattern was set - I cleared off past many people only to have them catch me up just before the crossing of the Eddendon water.
Wow. This has all been sorted out - the track after the lodge re-built and the river now goes back through the pipe bridge (last time it did that was about 15 years ago.) Plus the water level was low. One chap had used the route that misses out both crossings but I felt honour bound to do them both for old times sake.
The gaik singletrack is great and its the first time I'd ridden it for a couple of years. I'd meant to do some rides SS on such stuff just to get the feel of it, prior to committing to a big route like this. In the event I hadn't but the bike went through it all fine. I've fallen into the habit on the SS to treat this stuff like trials sections - you try and get through with minimum dabs but use your foot to best advantage. I then score myself 1,2 or 3 per dab, 3 for lots of footing but no stop and five for fail.... All cleans and 1's on this bit!
Loch an Duin
The outflow was higher than normal but I rode through dry. In the run up to this I'd really stressed about river crossings given my experience in 2014 and also after the conditions of the previous September group start. In the event water levels were all low. The effect of the forecasted storm was of concern however.....
That said for now it was sunny and I was over-heating thanks to overdressing and singlespeed hill climbing. A few sprinkles came through and there was a fine rainbow over the Loch an t Seilich dam. Speyside beckoned and I was riding with a huge grin on my face as I knew the next section would be fab. I've not ridden through here for ages. Its a mix of tracks and easy singletrack but all through the panorama of upper Speyside, the mighty Cairngorms to your right.
Cairngorm club footbridge over the Druidh water
Rothiemurchus trails
Looking south up the Lairig Ghru from the north. We'd be looking north up the Lairig Ghru from the south in 4 hours time
Loch Morlich and Glenmore was mobbed but I stopped at the cafe to grab some fizz and crisps. Colin was there and a few other riders (including eventual first person to get back Ben Anderson with less stuff on his bike than I take on a day ride!) Some chit chat with Bob followed. Then it was off into the main event. Time was 3pm just an hour after I'd left on my ITT in 2014, despite having that year started at 7.30 am! I must apologise to Bob - everytime we met up we came across a climb which meant I had to pedal hard up it, leaving him to twiddle in a nice easy gear, conversation unfinished. I faced a steady stream of walkers but I knew it wouldn't be for long. Soon enough we left them behind on the long, long climb up Bynack more. Thereafter I would only encounter a few folk on the trail.
On the climb up Bynack Mor, Abernethy in the background
It was a solid push but no big deal as the figures around me were also doing the same. On cresting the summit I noted that the clouds were gathering and the wind was in our faces but given the nature of the trail not really an issue. This is now the fourth time I've done this section of the route and I love it. Its a mix of hard riding and rough walking in a setting that is truly awesome (an over-used word justified for this) with the high plateau to one side and the subsidiary foothills of Britain's biggest wilderness on the other. And the Fords of Avon in the middle!
Just before the last drop into the long strath containing the fords of Avon and the Lairig an Leoaigh. I've a photo from our 2007 ride at this same rock!
Nadge core. And this was an easy bit!
Since 2014 a lot of path work has been done on this section so the riding was actually much easier than I remembered from previous excursions. I passed a group of walkers just before the fords - they all seemed to be wearing day packs despite it being 4.30pm in this remote spot - maybe they had a helicopter booked.... Of greater note was the fords themselves - specifically the stepping stones all clearly visible, happy days. I bounded across and paused for a large snack. There were plenty more rivers still to cross but the Avon (pronounced a'an) is the only real show stopper. Or so I thought....
Beyond here the trail gets progressively harder. Some sections are just a jumbled pile of big jaggy rocks. As usual I was wearing my boots, and thank goodness. A pair of typical cycling shoes with hard plastic soles would be a liability here. Finally I reached the Lairig an Laoigh, Glen derry below me.
Summit of the Lairig an Laoigh looking back to the fords
Glen Derry
This is a contender for one of the best descents on the route. I first rode it in 2007 just after the NTS had done a load of work on it. That day it was all smooth gravel and vicious water bars and cross drains - a specialty of the bike hating NTS. In 2014 most of the path work was scoured and today more so. There are still a few bars and drains but its so broken up now, they are of little consequence. I clattered my way down, mindful of my remoteness but determined to enjoy the descent as much as I could. The scoured out side burns that had caused me such bother in 2014 were repaired and the landslips cleared so soon enough I reached the valley floor. The bottom section still has these huge dips in them but most have an eroded bypass. Except one. My front brake had been playing up all day requiring a couple of pumps to work, so this particularly big gap nearly caught me out as I didn't realise there wasn't a bypass until I was on top of it. Cue much skidding, my protest to the NTS's policy on bikes.
I rolled out to Derry Lodge at 6pm. I figured three hours for this section was bloody good going. The single speed had been great. I'd ridden as much as I would have on a geared bike and outpaced a fair few of the others. Also I had no worries about smacking my rear mech of a rock and the extreme lightness of my drivetrain meant pushing was a cinch! OK maybe not...
As predicted Lairig Ghru from the south some 4 hours after my north end shot. I'd be passing again in about 16-18 hours time.
Turning West revealed much black clouds. There had been varying amounts of fine drizzle on the last section but it looked like the storm was approaching. The wind was now stiff in my face but I was able to make progress without too much effort. That said I was feeling the distance and in need of a feed. As well as bivvy kit I'd packed my meths stove and freeze dried food. I'd gone as far as weighing stuff and this came out lighter than the equivalent number of calories of hydrated food plus would allow me to have a hot brew. I figured I'd stop at the red bothy by the Geldie ford. It was due for refurbishment but would hopefully be empty; or at least I could shelter behind it. On arrival I noted several vehicles and tents around it plus various people coming and going. Hmm what's the score here then. It was clear that this in fact was the MBA doing said re-furb. Bugger, so much for shelter. I contemplated cracking on but I knew the next section would be hard going so I really needed to eat. I sat in the lee of a low berm - part of the original river bank - and got the kettle on. As it boiled one of the guys working on the bothy wandered up.
"You can shelter in the bothy if you want - there are tables and chairs"
"Err if that's OK that would be brand new!"
"Aye on you go"
Get in. Colin had said not to use bothies due to the bloody virus but I figured if the MBA invited me in, that was fine. I chatted to them about the project and watched them at work, also noting the large stash of empty tenants tins, bar-b-ques stoves, lots of food, tables and chairs. These boys know how to work in luxury!
Much revived I pushed on into the gloaming. At this point it was still full daylight but 7pm was approaching and I knew it would be full dark by 8. I got up to the ford by Geldie Lodge and without fuss or drama got onto the trail. This is quite a crossing in its own right. Easier than what we'd just done but tough in places. On that 2007 ride a lot of work had just been done on it, it was very dry and sunny! These days its pretty boggy in places with countless small burns crossing its path. That said this evening long sections between them were really surprisingly dry, even where it was just peat. Evidence of the incredibly dry spring.
Last shot of the Day - blurred and dark, true to life actually!
The appeal of this traverse is the wide landscape of the upper reaches of the Feshie. The hills are all rolling bumps rather than the rocky faces of the main plateau or the jaggy-ness of the West Highlands but its a big piece of land with wide open glens making for fab views and a massive sense of isolation, my favourite kind of place. The Minigaig pass goes just to the west of this and is another fab route well worth doing. Hmm. Route variation one (I'm an inveterate route planner so can't help doing this) Instead of the Gaik do the Minigaig but link it to the Feshie rejoining the current route at Ballintean. Hard and it would take the route over 900m.....
I passed the watershed as dusk was falling. In the gloom the route was unrecognisable from previous passes so I just followed the trail, an occasional glance at the GPS to reassure me that I'd not wandered off into the wilderness, never to be seen again. Finally I dropped down to the Eidart. The bridge is now well dodgy with several deck boards broken and all the timberwork soft and weak. I'm actually going to drop a line to the National Park on this as if/when one of the timber beams fail, anyone on it will likely end up down the Eidart falls. The scaffold tube structure is still fine, it just needs the deck replacing....
So. On with the lights and plenty tricky trail still to do. The rain was more on than off now, albeit just dreich rather than the forecasted downpour. After a short bog trot the path becomes one of the routes highlights. You pass a wee timber howff which would make a great bivvy spot. I'd actually thought of stopping here and do the lions share of the route on the Sunday but it was only 8.30 so pressing on was the way. This route gets a lot of bike use these days but I noted with smugness that most tyre tracks followed the argocat trail that roughly parallels the singletrack on this section. Its a swamp that should be avoided at all costs. The single track is a narrow stony line with only puddles and the odd squelch through a side burn line. I was having the time of my life. It was dark, raining, I'd done nigh on 80 miles and I had over 100 to go. But I had a tailwind and my meal of earlier had kicked in giving me plenty of energy and the riding was ace. Finally I made the track end, pushed up the short sharp slope and descended down to the mighty Feshie.
I nearly descended into it. I knew the turn off onto the goat track was coming but all of sudden this large black thing appeared in my light beam (on minimum) accompanied by a roaring sound. Oops that'll be the river then. It looked very low but I stuck to the high level route as planned. Quite tricky in the dark but actually OK. I was in full waterproofs now but after a heavy spell the rain was back to fine dreich again. Narrow overgrown path, Track, precipitous bit past a landslip, path, track, Ruigh Aiteachain bothy. I'd read that this was locked but the Estate had gone one better - they were staying in it. It was full of warm candle and fire light; doubtless plenty of whisky too. Oh well, the garage at Aviemore would have to do. Beyond the bothy is a new (in 2014) path but this seems to have suffered in the storms. Daft really as having got lots of dosh to do the path up the national park then went and put it right by the river so in several places its been chewed up. I made my one nav error here following the line on the GPS but this was my track of 2014 so took me off the good track and onto one such line that had been destroyed by the Feshie in 2016. It took a bit of faffing to get through but as always you think its easier to go on than turn back. Of course the good track I'd turned off suddenly reappeared. This took me down to the Alt Garblach and a shock. In 2014 this had been a really mess of rocks, trees and crumbled banks that had been tricky to cross. I'd seen pics post Storm Desmond in 2016 but what I saw now beggared the impression of those photos and made what I'd had to deal with in 2014 look a cinch. The whole bed was scoured down way lower than its original level and a huge sandy faced gorge had appeared just down from the crossing point. This required a careful scramble down a steep slope across the (thankfully) very low burn and then up a steep switchback before the path line was regained. Apparently there is a much better crossing point upstream on the old path but I couldn't face trying to find this in the dark. A final few k of easy riding and then it was back to the road at last.
I recall reaching this point in 2014 at about 8.30pm (it was now 10) and the amazing feeling of relief that I had done the hardest section of the route and was approaching mile 100. Despite it being dark and now raining in earnest I was similarly relieved and pleased that I'd come this far and was still feeling good. I contemplated pushing on through the night at this point as it may mean I would miss the worst of the weather. I'd see once I fed myself.
So Aviemore and the 24hr filling station was reached at 10.30pm. It was operating from the Kiosk so it took a bit of guesswork on mine and the assistants account to get some good food. I sat with my back to the door (locked) just under cover watching the drizzle fall and reflecting on what I'd done. Eventually I picked myself up and pedaled back to the route. Heading up the Nethy Bridge road I felt fatigue creeping in. Pushing through the night would likely be a total suffer fest and I'd end up doing a lot of nice singletrack in the dark as well as 3 river crossings. I turned off into Abernethy and almost ran over a badger. A mile later and another one appeared in my lights before shuffling off into the undergrowth. Heh heh I've only ever seen one badger before so this was a bonus. Right; bivvy spot required. On my tour of the previous month I'd stopped for a snack at the junction of the track down to Nethy Bridge and thought what a good bivvy spot it would make. Some time later I arrived at the spot and jammed on the brakes. The rain had nearly stopped and it was sheltered under the trees so up went the tarp and in I got. I'd done exactly 180k and being now quarter past midnight had been going for fourteen and a quarter hours, plenty for one day.
Dark bivvy shot - actually my September BAM which is a bonus!
Typical. Despite my efforts and tiredness when I settled in I couldn't sleep. You wouldn't have thought such a thing was possible but my mind wouldn't switch off. I was pretty relaxed about it and just lay there listening to the on and off rain, various night sounds and the passing of three other riders. I went through the whole route in my head as I lay there reflecting on what a great day it had been. Eventually I must have nodded off as suddenly I was awakened by a twig hitting the tarp. Hmm the wind had got up again but being in the woods this was of no concern. I nodded off again to be woken by my alarm at 5.30am, the grey of dawn filtering through the trees. I'd broken the back of the route the previous day so was in no rush. Breakfast (hot sweet tea and muesli) was taken in a relaxed manner as I contemplated the remainder of the route. The wind was of concern but the Beeb forecast was for it to drop throughout the day so I wasn't worried. Eventually I got up, packed up and got ready to go.
Just as I was finishing up a bike light appeared. "Morning!" I called.
"Is that you Phil?"
"Oh Morning Bob"
Turns out he'd bivvied in an old horsebox just back from my spot. We pedaled together talking about the last days adventures (Bob had snapped his chain and his light had died the previous evening but otherwise he'd had as good a day as I had). Of course as soon as we hit the first hill my single speed gear made its demands and off I went. This next section is a particular favourite of mine that I've done many times in both directions. Fine trails (albeit a bit damp after the previous nights rain) and great views of our route the previous day, the woods and hills of Strath Nethy and the hills to the north. After a substantial breakfast I was feeling good. Nothing too much in terms of aches and pains, contact points good, dodgy knees OK. Phew. It was a relief actually, given my pre-trip concerns of going with single speed, and a completion under 30 hours seemed well within reach.
Lookig back to Eigg Mor and the Egg path. Dorback burn in the dip.
I last saw Bob at the crossing of the Dorback. This was still low so the previous nights rain had had little effect on river levels. I said to Bob how we'd cracked it and the rivers of the day would all be fine, so much for my worrying. And it was sunny! The overnight rain had stopped as I slept and now the sky was clear with only a few clouds to the south and more to the north. So I guessed the storm had either fizzled out before it cleared the west Highlands or had tracked south or north of the 'gorms. First big push of the day was out of Dorback, no probs. Bombed down to Glen Brown and wah hey, it was also a trickle. You cross it 7 times so this was a relief!
Push up the track out the glen, get on, ride. The single speed rhythm. Bob had said he'd see me in the shop in Tomintoul but it was shut as I pedaled past so I kept on, hoping Bob had other food with him. Into Glen Avon. I had feared the wind for this section, heading south as it does but in the event it was fine with many sections tailwind or wind free, just as forecast. The sun shone and the sky was blue.
Glen Avon just before Inchrory lodge
I had an energy dip just after the lodge so stopped to take in the views, eat lots of food and contemplate the trail off the north east corner of Ben Avon, just in front of me. This would make for a great day ride from Invercauld heading up Glen An T-Sluggan, a big push onto Ben a Bhuird, across the summit plateau and tors of Ben Avon, down the switchback I was now looking at and then back over to Glen Gairn and Invercauld. Next year.... It crossed my mind that a true Cairngorms loop would involve the plateau so I also contemplated a third loop that would take it in or a variation of the inner loop whereby from Glenmore you head up to the Cas, up Cairngorm, along to Ben MacDuibh and then down to Glen Derry. Its all been done so defo a goer. Apart from all the terrain above 1000m and the tendency it has to be snowy in both May and September. Maybe not. Whatever I had enough to do as it was.
Looking up Glen Avon in the direction of the fords
Top of glen builg. The grey cloud over the hill was an intimation of doom!
I stomped up the climbs out of Glen Builg and picked my way around the loch. Trail note - some kind person has put a wee bridge over the loch outfall. No more precarious tip toeing over a bit of log, bike on shoulder hanging onto the wire fence! Ahead was a mass of grey cloud apparently in the grip of a strong wind, given the way it was whizzing along. It had been fairly breezy to that point but of no issue. Descending to the Gairn I entered a different world. The wind was ferocious and a constant horizontal dreich was being blown in. Given I was now due north east of my destination this was of concern. I pedaled off, a big effort required to make progress.
Ahead I noticed a bike with bags on. A weekend tripper? No - it was Cath, making her way round the outer loop having bivvied just shy of Tomintoul. We contemplated the wind and shared a look. This was going to be tough. The climb over to Invercauld had always been on my list as a stinker and sure enough I pushed it pretty much in its totality. The rain was now dense dreich and so I also had to don waterproofs, adding to the effort.
A long time later I topped out and oddly the wind didn't seem as bad as the valley floor. Until the descent when it nearly had me off. I dropped down the track rapidly to get out of it but even lower down the trees were still thrashing about and the view west was of a solid mass of grey cloud and rain. Oh fuck. The A93 was a rude awakening in the form of traffic queued at a set of lights and in my way! I nearly dived across the old bridge to beat it but jumped the light instead, I was racing after all.... Finally Braemar and the Co-op. I figured on liquid calories as my stomach probably had enough solid food on board. This was a mistake.....
As I sat out drinking stuff a couple of guys on bikes appeared. One suddenly wandered up and hailed me. It was Robbie Lyall - a guy from Perthshire who'd borrowed my spot the previous year and who had been one of the dispossessed Highland Trail entries for this year. Him and his pal were doing the Deeside Trail in a few leisurely days (lucky git) so we compared trail notes and we both figured I'd got the raw deal!
So off I went knowing I was in for a hard time. And how. To Linn of Dee it was OK but every so often you'd catch a massive gust of wind that would bring you to a standstill. I rejoined the inner loop at the Linn and it was clear there had been some changes since I was last here 18 hours previously. The Dee was up considerably, the wind was much stronger and on checking the GPS I was a bit shocked to see that I still had 50k to do. I guess the storm must have tracked south of the main Cairngorm massive, hence all the water..... Off I went but it was hard going. I could still pedal without too much of an effort but it was way more than the distance I'd done dictated. This took me back to an early singlespeed ride I'd done on the Krampus on Christmas eve 2015 the day after Storm Charley. It was blowing a gale like today, dreich like today and I had 5 miles of track at a steady but easy gradient to ride up. That day it had actually been worse and the 5 miles took me an hour of hard effort. Today it was a bit easier but I was on 250k legs that were five years older! This is the major single speed challenge. Not hills or bog - these can be dealt with by a walk. But can you walk when its pan flat? Well yes but it would take forever. On a geared bike I could have twiddled along in my granny gear. Not today.
At Whitebridge where the Dee appears out of the Lairig Ghru. My load out - fairly TLS excepting a lot of food (which turned out to be a lifesaver). I'd thought of going bivvy bag only but my tarp / lightweight bivvy set up is only 50g's heavier and massively improves the chances of a dry nights sleep. The bike looks quite clean here thanks to the pressure washing it had received over the hill from Glen Gairn. It wouldn't last...
I got my first view of the Geldie and felt a cold sinking feeling in my stomach. It was flowing strongly and brown with peat run-off - a sure sign of heavy rainfall on its catchment.
Red House Bothy at the Geldie turn off. I could always do it again if I couldn't cross the Geldie itself!
Oh shit. Last night about a third of this was covered, with rocks poking above the surface. An easy ride then, not now. I gave it a go as I had nothing to lose but clouted an unseen big rock a third of the way across and in went my foot. So much for dry feet but at least I was near the end. I crossed the remainder and then battled my way into the gale. It bashed me from all sides and would suddenly blast right in the face stopping all forward progress. Beyond the Geldie you cross the bynack burn twice in quick succession. Normally its pretty low even when the Geldie is up, down to its low catchment, but today it was swift and deep. I just plunged in not caring, likewise the second crossing.
Any hope the wind would ease as the strath turns south was in vain. It was one of those winds that was straight in your face regardless of which way you turned. Occasionally it would drop to nothing only to explode in your face as you crested a rise. So much for the Beeb forecast. But what could I do? Going back was to go nowhere. There was no short cut, no exit and no way out but through.
The pedaling took its toll with another bonk at the top of the single track. I'd flopped my way over the trail past the watershed like a sack of spuds. I couldn't be bothered trying to get up anything; just stepped off, pushed, got on, flailed round for the pedals, rode a bit, repeat. Oh dear I could feel my mood nose-diving on a trail I count as one of my all time favourites!
I passed a couple wearing shorts, trainers and lightweight jackets, also in a place far from civilisation. They'd passed before I could think to ask them where they were going or had come from even if I'd been inclined but its a mystery to me how people can go out so lightly prepared, in such places. At least they had a tailwind! I stopped and ate more food - snickers bars, haribo, dried fruit - lots of sugar and hopefully energy. My guts had been fine all weekend but I knew that they don't like too much sugar. I still had a dried meal but getting the stove out to heat water was well beyond my level of bothered-ness.
So into the tilt descent. Its narrow, rocky and oft times steep with a precipitous drop to the river below. Oh yes the Tilt. I'd looked across at it earlier and shat myself when I realised that this was the river I had to cross. Way higher than I'd ever seen it before. This could only mean one thing - bail down the tilt to a scratch. Having come all this way would make such a move a real bummer but ultimately better than drowning... I was well cautious on the descent (and cursed with vigour the regular climbs on said descent). In several places the trail is crossed by rough rocky outcrops which you can ride across with a bit of care (and a fatbike) if its dry but are lethal when wet. I didn't even try. I knew I was now in a tricky situation and fucking-up was, as they say, contra-indicated. The wind was evil. It battered me from side to side by turns blowing the front wheel into a trail side rock (so it bounces back and pitches you into the abyss) or nearly blowing me into the abyss....
Soon enough I got to the turn off and contemplated the river from on high. It looked pretty wild but enough boulders in the flow suggested it was doable with a great deal of care. Ha, some hope - I got to the bottom and just plunged straight in. It was thigh deep but I jammed the bike behind a rock and used it as a prop. So I got across and realised that this really was the point of no return as I wasn't likely I would want to go back through that.
The tilt at the start of the trail to Fealar Lodge - actually deeper than it looks!
I guess I was on autopilot to a degree as no-one would consciously do this next part of the route in any rational frame of mind. People do though. The steep climb is scoured out as its part of a local loop from Bridge of Tilt which judging by the number of bike tracks is popular. Why, I don't know as its a boggy schlep for the most part. I cursed this section in 2014 and it was pretty dry then. It kind of spoils the route in a way. I know its all part of the challenge but after the rest of it an easy run down Glen Tilt would make for a fine finale allowing you to think of, and celebrate, your achievement in relative ease. There are plenty of options to make up the distance and miss it out. Route setters hear my plea!
Enough speculating, onward and on. And on. And on. For fucks sake this was going on for ever. I even had a tailwind but the trail was largely unrideable on my gear. Bonk number three happened here. I fished around in my bags and came up with an energy bar dating from Rovaniemi 2019. I hate these things but forced it down anyway. I also needed a very large drink of water hinting at dehydration (a ridiculous concept given how much water I was exposing myself to). Maybe this helped to digest the energy bar as my legs ground back into action once more and finally the Lodge appeared out of the murk.
Fealar Lodge - a desolate and bleak spot many, many miles from civilisation and yet someone chooses to live here. Beyond here its a big track but my knackeredness was telling. I cursed the wind (horrendous), the rough track surface where it had been patched, my one gear, my stupidity for doing this and the hill. Oh yes the hill. This takes you up to 650m and a killer for me, walked in its entirety. Again the wind nearly blew me off the bike, blasting in from all directions and once again stopping me dead in my tracks. On the descent I let go the brakes and just rolled, far too fast probably but I was past caring and the mental input into cornering was a distraction from the aches and pains pervading my aging body.
Surprise surprise, after a brief respite I turned due west into the wind and bang, off we don't go again. Push anything uphill and full energy pedal elsewhere. Another high river crossed and then the last climb. This went up for ever and ever and ever (sound familiar....) Oh gawd, I'm not sure I can take much more of this. Another bonk and a final search of bags revealed a twix and a snickers - praise be. They went down the hatch far easier than the energy bar and gave me an instant hit that I hoped would see me to the end.
Well, so much for memory. The hill seemed twice as high but the boggy schlep I'd recalled from 2014 must have been somewhere else as the last singletrack was actually pretty damn good and provided a much needed mood lift. It still climbed up though (twice, arrrgghh!) but the turn off I'd missed previously was obvious and one final mud plug (through which I ploughed regardless) got me to one more (but the last) raging torrent. Again I just stumbled though, not caring that boots and calf length waterproof socks were soaked. Drag up to the big track and the last section of dirt on the whole route. Of course this dragged on interminably (its only 4k!) and then finally the road, one last climb, and a fast descent to Blair Atholl and finally, finally the finish.
The time was 17.35, making my time 31 hours and 31 minutes. So much for getting in under 30 hours but that was a pipe dream born of my total ignorance that morning of what we were going to be in for. But, I'd done it (on singlespeed!) and that was a very good feeling. Another chap was there who I'd switched places with the day before. We had a brief chat but there actually wasn't much to say as we were both shattered beyond meaningful discussion. I stripped bags off the filthy bike (Perthsire mud!), threw it in the car, got out of my wet clothes and made a cup of tea.
Traditional finish shot by the station clock which unfortunately is stuck on 14.40!
The bike was in far better shape than me. I was a mass of aches and pains. My arms were killing me from all the pushing, manhandling and stood up pedaling. I had blisters on my hands and my back was particularly sore - not slipped disc sore, just aching from all the heaving, shoving and pushing. My calves were a mass of bruises from all the pedal strikes, I had a huge blister on the ball of my right foot (this actually started on the previous weeks hill walk, oops), my knees hurt and I was drained of energy. That night I slept for 11 hours and as I write this, I'm still a long way from recovery. The bike has a few more scratches to add to its collection but was otherwise flawless other than one burp on the back tyre which lost a bit of pressure but nothing enough to require a pump. Was it worth it? Hell yeah. Saturday and Sunday morning was amazing and the singlespeed was the business. The last 60k was what did the damage and it would have been a different animal if it had been dry and calm - obviously. Immediately after finishing I vowed to put the gears back on the Jones but now, I'm not so sure.
