Finally a welcome return to the Scottish winter bivvy after a two year gap. We could have done it last year but I think we were all suffering from being institutionalised in our isolated worlds. It's taken me a while to get out of this mind frame and trying to live life as normal so its ironic that the idiot politicos seem to be now trying to restrict peoples lives again.
The destination was a rather fine bothy I'd used in 2017. It's not an MBA one and being somewhat inaccessible a reasonable bet to be free of others on a damp December evening.
"Where is it?" says the others.
"Somewhere in the hills above Dunkeld"
Final confirmed attendees were me, Jimmy G; last seen in Dryfehead bothy in 2019 and Dave, also a veteran of that fine trip, last seen in Wales. Dave's mate Morne was also coming, being a newby to bothy life. Routes were discussed and clandestinely exchanged and plans made. I knew it would be bog-tastic based on my 2017 visit and it was likely that the remains of the snow from the previous week would still be present as well as much ice.
For this reason I figured the fat bike would be the tool for the job and an earlier plan to pedal up from home on the Straggler was abandoned. This was mainly due to a dismal weather forecast which did indeed correctly predict a dismal day. I lazed around looking at the varying levels of drizzle outside before eventually loading up and heading up the road just after 2. The bike seemed excessively heavy thanks to a few beers and a fire log as I knew the bothy had a stove but it was doubtful if there was any (dry) wood. On arrival in Birnam a heavy rain shower came on so I sat it out drinking tea whilst listening to 'Singing in the Rain' on the radio. When Herb Brown wrote this music, he clearly hadn't experienced slashing rain at 3 degrees C!
Eventually it passed through so I dragged the bike out, loaded up and left. It was getting dark already but I was reasonably confident of my route for this to be a non-issue. It was also somewhat misty requiring lights for the short pedal to the first trail. They went off after that, as usual I would ride for as long as possible before using them in anger. Steady climbing on a good track followed, the air chill and damp. I soon warmed up and noted the looks of concern on descending hillwalkers noting me heading into the hills as they were descending to cars.
As I proceeded I became increasingly aware of much ice on the track; of the 'suicider' variety, covered in water, that lead to many a slither and a couple of bits that had to be walked. Snow patches started above 250m with more visible higher up. The good news was the rain which had receded to a light dreich and then almost stopped; and rising above the mist so I could see a bit of the land around me.
Once passed Loch Ordie the track deteriorated just as full dark fell. I encountered a last couple of walkers here, also light free and also a bit surprised at seeing someone heading to the wilds not away from them. I didn't muck about and switched the Maxx D to max as well as firing up my much appreciated diablo lid light. I needed all the help I could get as ice was everywhere, some allowing a sketchy passage over a puddle, and some breaking underneath you resulting in much muck spreading. Thank goodness for the fat bike! In places the ice was lethal as it was melting. You couldn't tell the difference between stuff you could ride and stuff that would take the wheels from under you; all good fun....
Pre trip I'd noted a possible variation to the route which I would check out when I got there as it may avoid a bit I knew would be particularly wet. Then the track deteriorated horribly into a mess of cow hoof prints, mostly frozen solid thank goodness, but anywhere sheltered and it was rather gungy. On checking the GPS, I discovered I had already made the turn to the alternate trail and was a few hundred meters up it, so much for it being drier than the main track. I should have turned back but, as usual, figured that going on would be a far better bet, despite endless experiences of this manifestly not being the case.
It got progressively worse and I was struggling to get round (or through) some bits. At least my sense of humour wasn't suffering too much, in fact I was taking it all in my stride (or 4.8" Jumbo Jim anyway). Eventually the track rose out of the dip it had been following and the surface improved immediately. Harder ground, a grassy surface and no more cow prints made for a fine trail. I was also now riding in and out of snow - fairly soft but not deep enough to stall progress. I joined another track and soon afterwards the track I should have been on came in from the right. Behind I caught the flash of a light which looked like it was a bike coming up this trail. I saw it again a couple of times and at another turning waited, thinking it would be Jimmy, but it never appeared again. Odd.
In fact I was following a fat bike tyre print which I figured would be Jimmy so goodness knows who this light was and I never saw it again. I'd a memory of a rather dodgy bog crossing at the upcoming burn but in the event it was easy and a large rock allowed a dry foot step across. Then I came across the bog! I picked my way across using reeds to support my feet, as I'd done back in 2017, fortunately staying dry. Just after I joined a rougher way and made good progress to the bothy. A light was shining in the window and Jimmy himself came out to greet me. The fire was on and the place lovely and warm, with only us in residence - top stuff!
On with the bothy TV.
We chatted, comparing our experiences up the trail. My diversion had definitely been a bad move as the main trail was indeed mucky but not not anything like as bad. Jimmy had also just about made it up in daylight which was probably a good move given the trail. So there we were eating and drinking, watching the fire and chewing the fat in true bothy style. But where was Dave and his mate? Dave had said they planned to start in Bankfoot and include Glen Garr in the proceedings but I'd figured they would either be in front of me or just behind, and possibly the source of the light I'd seen. Obviously not and we were a might concerned although there was nothing we could do about it. We figured they'd had a problem and had to cancel or turn back. In the meantime, the sky had cleared and a bright half moon shone through once again demonstrating that I had impeccable timing i.e. I should have started earlier and done the route in the daylight or started later and done the route in moonlight.
Finally at 9.30 lights appeared and it was Dave and Morne looking somewhat bedraggled. They had started in Dunkeld and done Glen Garr as a circuit, involving some horrible riding through cow poached fields; then ridden up here after chips thinking it would take them and hour and a half at most (it had taken me over two.) Indeed they did have a problem as Morne's back brake had croaked and then a fall had knackered his shifter so it had been nearer three hours to get here. They soon got installed, the fire was blazing as Dave had heroically brought some coal with him, and we talked and drank to the wee small hours.
We woke to clear morning and the prospect of a nice day. We ruminated on options given this fine weather and scenery with snowy mountains looming to the north. Jimmy was for lazing around in the bothy for a bit before heading back the way he'd come up. Dave and Morne were thinking of heading into Strath Ardle and then up Glen Fearnach to join the Cairngorms Loop route to Blair Atholl via Glen Loch and the Allt Coire Lagan. But Morne's lack of brake and possible snow levels made this a less appealing option. I'd figured on heading north for a bit then picking up the Cateran Trail, following this south and then heading back to Dunkeld via various back roads. Dave and Morne figured this was a better bet for them as it would be around 40 odd miles instead of 50 odd.
At a leisurely 10.45 off we went through more snow, ice and swamp. After turning off the main trail, the ground was dryer but the snow levels were going up. Obviously the fat bike ploughed through it all effortlessly and better still the sun came out.
Me just about to hit the descent, the hills of Glenshee in the background (This is Dave's photo)
The singletrack descent was fun in the snow then it was more rough (but dryish) double track up and over to loch Pitcarmick, frozen solid as it was. Then a fun doubletrack descent, the snow levels fading as we dropped to the Cateran Trail.
This was a beaut - a nice mix of made path, grassy estate tracks and the odd farm / house access track; heading steadily down Strath Ardle. Clearly a fair bit of dosh has been chucked at this route with lots of new trail and many shiny new gates. We'd been a bit concerned about fallen trees as although Perthshire had missed the worst of storm Arwen the other week, there were plenty of fallen trees around. We had one close shave getting round a couple but then got snookered by a big cluster of them. We could have battled round them but the risk of there being more ahead made this a highly dubious prospect. So back we went and onto the main road, via a funky bridge cum house over the river Ardle. Looking across the glen as we cruised along the road it looked like we could have gone back round another forest track to miss the windblow and not got caught in any more as it had all been felled. Fortunately from Bridge of Cally the Cateran Trail was clear so there was no A93 schlepping required.
Instead we schlepped along a somewhat soggy track over the moor - more cow prints then just a very wet trail which required a careful eye to get through as it was back to alternate patches of ice that broke under your wheels and ice that tried to fire them out from under you. Finally we exited onto the road and followed a nice route on back roads past lochs Marlie, Clunie and Lowes finishing with a final trail to Dunkeld, arriving nigh on 24 hours after I'd left the previous day, total mileage 60.
So a great weekend with some snow / ice and bog-tastic riding and this concludes my 2021 bivvy a month campaign!
No comments:
Post a Comment