In July 1986, I had my first experience of the Cairngorms, Britain's largest mountain range. It wasn't pretty. We'd driven up the previous day in the ubiquitous Ford Transit minibus, we being the Greenfield Comprehensive school mountaineering club, and camped at Glenmore. The plan was the 'four four thousanders' Cairn Gorm, Ben Macduibh, Cairn Toul and Braeriach. On the climb we soon entered the cloud, then the rain, which persisted until we eventually dropped off the plateau into the Lairig Ghru. Views from both Cairngorm and Ben Macduibh had been nil, and in those days, nav was via map, compass and the Naismith formula. By the time we reached Corrour bothy it was late afternoon and we'd had enough. This was mine, and others, first experience of a Scottish mountain bothy, and it wasn't a pleasant one for us, or the current occupants. Our leader stuck his head round the (knackered) door, noted the half dozen people in residence, stated "alright folks, we are in here tonight" and in we went.
Oh dear. A couple took one look at us (wet) youths and departed to pitch their tent. We piled in for much needed food, whilst the current occupants shuffled up to accommodate us. Despite the over crowding, we had a hearty meal and then turned in. Well some of us did. Four lads volunteered to sleep in a zardsky bag, a tube of waterproof but unbreathable nylon, outside so the rest of us could cram into the bothy. I had an uncomfortable night semi crouched, listening to one of our adults hideously loud snores.
The next morning was grim. The rain persisted, all around the bothy was litter, knackered remains of tents and... shite. You could say this era was the nadir of bothy life as their popularity grew and the Mountain Bothy Association struggled to maintain these old shelters against a rising tide of irresponsible use. By the time we stirred, the other residents had packed up and left in disgust. We had breakfast, the group leader gave the couple camping a load of abuse when they dropped a bag of empty cans and rubbish in the bothy, and the guys who had slept outside moaned about how wet they were.
In view of the weather, Cairntoul and Braeriach were shelved. Instead we walked up the 'Ghru after a leisurely morning. Over the pass the weather cleared and by the time we hit the Sinclair hut, the sun was beating down. This one was empty, so we occupied it and dried our kit, whilst larking about in the adjacent burn. A far better night followed, and after a leisurely walk out, we de-loused in the (now long gone) Aviemore resort jacuzzi and had an easy night in the campsite.
In 1990 I returned with Dad, Mike Thornton (now ex School Mountaineering Club Leader), his son, and others from their loose group of mountaineering friends. This time, we thrashed various rep-mobiles up the now much improved A9 and camped in the Sugar Basin car park for an early start.
Despite a sunny morning, we entered the cloud soon after the Ptarmigan restaurant and more dead reckoning navigation was required across the bleak plateau. Dropping down to the 'Ghru took us into sunshine and a pause at the Garbh Coire bothy - little more than a pile of stones over an iron frame. This had been a planned stopping point but it was only 3 and close to the summer solstice so off we went for the final two summits - Cairn Toul and Braeriach. Views came and went and when we finally dropped off the last hill back to the Sinclair hut, the sky cleared as the sun set. So ended a 16 hour day, one my longest on foot and only just beaten by our recent Summer solstice bike ride. Sadly the Sinclair hut was far scuzzier than it had been 4 years previous and I actually slept outside in a borrowed bivvy bag. A year later it was condemned and soon after removed.
The Watt Wheelers cycling club annual autumn trip to Pitlochy on the periphery of the Cairngorms provided a tantalising taste of this vast wilderness. We stayed in caravans at the nearby Faskally camp site and much beer drinking and drunken cycling followed. The first year I went saw us heading up the long and straight strath that is Glen Tilt, a classic through route of the southern Cairngorms, but only as far as the track end before heading back again. Other times we headed west round Loch Rannoch and the main hills of the 'gorms remained unreachable.
Then in 1995, I finally did the whole of Glen Tilt, my first proper excursion into the Southern Cairngorms. Myself, Neil and Malcolm hatched a plan to ride from Pitlochry up the river side trails, ride through to Braemar and stay over at the youth hostel, before riding back out over the road the next day. The weather was stunning and we ambled the 30 odd miles up to and through the glen to the Linn of Dee and thence Braemar. In those days the single track section was totally natural, however weeks of sunshine meant it was all bone dry. Writ large was the mainly uphill-ness of this section, i.e. we had done the route the wrong way...
Malcolm on an infamous river crossing
So after a night in the hostel, and a few beers, we hatched plan B for the next day - stuff a huge road ride, lets just ride back down the Tilt, which we did.
October 1997, back in Pitlochry, Max (who had missed out on the summer tour) had a great idea - lets do this circuit, but in one go, i.e. road over to Strath Ardle, then Spittal of Glenshee via a trail marked on the map, over the mighty Cairnwell road to Braemar, then back via Glen Tilt. A late start, thanks to our usual drinking sesh the night before, made the prospect a bit dubious given dark O'clock would be around 7. We had a few newbies with us (Vicky, Iona, Danny, Malcom G) who, whilst enthusiastic, admitted that 60 miles, 3 big hills and a long trail, was a lot more than they had ever tackled before. In the event, only Iona and Vicky stuck with us, the other two electing for a local ride. The boundless energy of youth kept us on.
The first trail looked promising as it had a Scottish Rights of Way sign on it (and is now part of the Cateran Trail), and it did indeed go OK, but took a while, as did the Cairnwell climb, last done in the dark by some of us a couple of mid-summer's previously. A pause for food in Braemar highlighted our position in the heart of the Southern Cairngorms, mountains all around. But we couldn't wait as dusk wasn't far away. We made it to the singletrack as dusk was starting to fall and all were of like mind - keep moving! Which we did, all managing to pick their way down the tricky descent with darkness falling just as we hit the doubletrack, something of a relief.
We actually repeated this pattern several times over the next few years. The last time we nearly had an epic as it got dark when we reached Bynack Lodge. The problem being one team member who refused to go at any speed other than dead slow, so despite an early start progress had been painful. We ended up split up as some of us didn't have lights, a far from ideal scenario. Finally someone had the radical idea of starting early and in the summer!
Then one year we eschewed Pitlochry for Aviemore, the plan being to get stuck into these hills properly. We figured on doing the Lairig Ghru climb, at least, and then maybe the full traverse, if the weather looked favourable. In the event, after reaching the site of the now removed Sinclair Hut, most of us headed back down but Max and Richard decided to keep on, planning on returning via White Bridge and the now well used Geldie to Feshie route. They had an absolute epic as the Ghru trail was a couple of years off NTS's first attempt to do up; and the Feshie Geldie route saw little use in those days so was vague. We should have been worried, but the boundless optimism of youth saw them (and us) right and they returned at 11, having had a hell of a time getting out of Glen Feshie with poor lights and a missing map.
Of note during this period was the National Trust for Scotland who bought Marr Lodge estate that covered a chunk of the southern part of the Cairngorms. Controversially, they immediately banned cycling from all parts of the estate, which led to uproar from the local bike riding community. Rumour had it that the cash for the buy had been put up by a bunch of noveau riche London types who had stipulated this as a condition so they could blast the local wildlife population undisturbed. All credit to the CTC and their campaigns leader, the late John Taylor, who proved that Glen Tilt was a cycling ROW, all thanks to the records of the Rough Stuff Fellowship dating back well beyond the required 20 years. Things were changing, with Land Reform high on the agenda, but this sneaky move led to many people getting grief from NTS Rangers for no good reason.
I finally got good weather on a trip in 2001 with my then Girlfriend. This was a motoring tour as everywhere south of the border was into foot and mouth restrictions. Fortunately, the Cairngorms and other upland areas were free of such restrictions so I got her up a few hills, including the usual circuit from the Cas car park up to the summit of Cairngorm and round the Northern Corries. The sun shone and the views were fab.
Fair to say I was smitten. Hill walking snobs actually used to turn their noses up at the mighty 'gorms in those days, as they lacked the interest of the western hills. Locals knew better and there was much east and west rivalry, dating back to the post war clubs that first ventured into many parts of Scotland previously only seeing the odd naturalist, geologist or vicar; as well as Victorian toffs out to blast the local wildlife.
Other than the 2001 trip, I didn't get up for a few years as motorbiking was occupying my time. Then in 2003 me and friend Rob did another southern Cairngorms classic - up Glen Bruar and then over the high level Minigaig pass. The weather was fab, and the Minigaig was fairly well worn in those days. But still a hard trail with some navigational challenges on the descent.
Having a well earned breather after the steep push out of Glen Bruar.
We did consider a Feshie / Geldie / Glen Tilt return but Rob had a crash and hurt his knee so the Gaik it was - actually my first ride through here. I repeated the Minigaig myself a year later, this time getting the descent totally wrong (no GPS in those days) resulting in a mission to regain the trail. Thereafter I started my own trail bagging campaign and even did the Pitlochry / Spittal / Braemar / Tilt circuit. This period represented a bit of waning interest in mountainbiking for me. Long distance commuting led to a rising interest in road biking of all things!
Things began to change in 2005 when friends Rob and Iona moved up to Aviemore. Plus Land Reform came in and suddenly a whole vast range of mountainbiking opened up, no longer requiring sneaky scampering past estate buildings, rangers or irate hill walkers. Their new gaff became our destination to celebrate Hogmanay and many years saw us ride the woods hugging the northern flanks of the plateau and the miles of ace singletrack. These remain some of the best in Scotland, as they are well drained, extensive if you have the knowledge and devoid of all other people.
Rob and Iona did much exploration of the classic through routes, whetting my appetite for more. A long distance relationship wiped out many weekends so it wasn't until 2007 that I finally saw my first excursion into the interior.
This was Iona's idea, with Rob, Alex, Dwayne and myself tagging along. Singletrack magazine was asking for people to submit 'epic rides' and Iona figured this one would outdo all others. We'd ride up to Glenmore and over into the Fords Avon, over to Linn of Dee then back via the Geldie / Feshie trail. I.e. the Cairngorms 'inner loop' that was yet to be a thing at that time. Rob pulled out as he had terrible toothache and needed to get to a dentist ASAP, so the rest of us departed at 7.30 am, into a fine day.
Heading up the trail past Bynack More to the Fords. This trip predated any pathwork on this route, and it was hard, and slow going. The last section to the Fords was particularly rough, with much walking and clambering required.Fords of Avon Shelter at last, and the fords easy. Of course the tough trail persists right up to the pass.
First bit of good news, the NTS had done a load of work on the path. They were still 'banning' cycling off doubletrack - there compromise post land reform, despite it being against said reform. The ban also got ignored comprehensively by a burgeoning group of new mountainbikers moving to the area and riding all and sundry. The new trail was a bit brutal in places and several monster cross drains on the descent required regular dismounts, but it was generally fast going - a good thing as time was rolling on. The Geldie / Feshie route was next and something of an unknown quantity. Iona had done it before, and noted it was a bit vague in places. In the event, the dry weather, and several newly upgraded sections made it good going until the last couple of k to the Eidart bridge, which required a fair bit of navigation, and not much trail.
Of course the descent was ace and when we hit the double track, much relief followed, briefly. When Iona had ridden down Glen Feshie with Rob a few years previously, the original track was still largely in tact (and the bridge at the bottom of it.) But now the first section looked to be a near none-existent goat track over a rather precipitous slope plus we knew the bridge was out and the trail beyond it dubious. So instead we elected to cross the river (three times!) in order to keep on the double track the estate had put in to miss all the landslips. Iona took us on one last bit of single track to regain the road for the last miles home. What a day!
I finally did the Minigaig / Feshie / Geldie Tilt circuit the following year, and several times after. This remains a classic adventurous day out. A key to doing it in one day is the link from the Minigaig summit to the upper Feshie via a high level route over a couple of hills. At 50 miles, nearly all off road, and crossing some of the wildest land in Britain, definitely a must do for all intrepid bike riders.
Summit of peak 912 (no name!) looking to the back of the Cairngorm Plateau, on a fine March day.
Another 'classic' route was up to Carn Ban Mor. Most rode up the double track put in by the estate for stalking, then down and increasingly rough singletrack. The day we did it (August 2009) the single track had recently been done up and was a bit brutal in terms of stone features. So we headed up the big track to Carn Ban Mor summit then cut north to Sgor Gaoith and carried on along the ridge picking up a steep and rocky descent back to the glen floor, the nearest I've been to Alpine bike riding.
Iona on the long, long climb. Looking down to Loch Eidart (another well known in and out ride, done on that weekend in 1998), Braeraich in the background. In 2010, there were more changes for me and a return to cycle touring after a long break, but with off road sections thrown in. I was riding my local hills regularly but my sights were once again set on the various Cairngorm through routes, and how I could get to them
I wasn't alone. The trail centre boom in the early 2000's was starting to fizzle by the end of the decade, as people sought more and more routes away from the ranks of sitka spruce. The Cairngorms were an obvious target, given how accessible they were and the quantity and quality of good riding. I'd love to know at what point in those days, every trail possible to ride, had been ridden. The 'Cairngorms tour' also became more well known, first mooted in guide books of the '90's but seen as a step far to far for most people only willing to commit to a day ride. But at the same time, the Scottish coast to coast which passed through the northern edge of the Plateau, was also becoming popular and doing multi day off road trips was now seen as a 'thing.'
That thing became the UK bikepacking scene which grew from several roots in Wales, Northern England and Scotland, fueled by a rising tide of routes and intel in the US. The bikepacking bag cottage industry helped, as well as a raft of new ultra lightweight camping gear.
2011 saw my first real go at it. I worked out an optimistic route weaving through the Eastern Cairngorms and finishing with a key part of the Cairngorms tour route to Aviemore from Braemar. It didn't go quite to plan but the seed was sewn, and many more trips followed.
First time on the Egg Path, in the rain. It's become one of my favourites.
The Gaik on an Orange 5. This pass is also a favourite as it's fairly straightforward, the scenery is fabulous and it cuts a huge corner off the fairly dull A9 cycle route. River crossings can be tricky however, of which more later.
The following years saw regular excursions to the Cairngorms for day rides, weekend trips and longer bikepacking rides.
On a weekend trip last year, doing a variation of the Tour, I tried to count my passes of the various through routes, but lost count, but well into double figures. What had previously been considered a hugely intimidating area to penetrate by bike, was now routine, familiar and, whilst not easy, certainly straightforward and huge fun. Many, many others have reached the same conclusion and it's rare to not meet others on bikes whilst traversing the various passes. Glaciation is the key, as this area saw vast ice sheets carving long straths through the hills, making altitude over many miles, rather than the brutal climbs of the north west hill passes.
On the 'Tilt single track. A fair bit of work was done on this in 2015 so for the most part it's dry. There are a couple of tricky burn crossings, and the steep drop to your left if you are descending has caught a few folk out over the years. Looking up Strath Nethy to the backside of Cairngorm, as fine a place you could ever be in on a warm Spring day.
I finally got a bike up the plateau on Hogmanay in 2019. This day was a stunner after the usual pre season snow, rain, thaw, freeze cycle left vast patches of boiler plate, enabling easy riding over the boulder field (on a fat bike anyway). This is looking back to Ben Macduibh, a far cry from that drookit day in 1986!
I've still a few trails to bag, in particular the Lairig Ghru. After Max and Richard's traverse in the late '90's, the NTS ended up throwing a large amount of money at the trail and for a few years it became a much easier prospect by bike. However it didn't last and much of the work in the upper pass got trashed by the weather in short order. I did the southern end on a day trip in 2017, but the consensus on the whole route is 'don't bother'. Inspite of this (or because of it?) it remains a beguiling challenge. Of course I could walk it, but this leaves the difficulty of returning to the start point and fighting your way out of Braemar via public transport (and Aberdeen.) I'll do it one day, and I'll ensure the weather is good, and I'll do it in a onner, on the same route Max and Richard used.
In the meantime, I'll reflect on all those trips I've done, and look to many more in hopefully better times. As I write this, the Glenmore to Nethy Bridge track is shut due to a huge moorland fire, which looks like it was started by someone near the bothy. Roll on next year!
A word on rivers
A defining feature of the Cairngorms are some of Scotland's biggest rivers. The Spey and the Dee are the most well known ones, roughly defining it's north and south boundaries. But many others start from the interior and define the vast glaciated straths through which you will pass on the various routes in the area.
Classic Cairngorm river valley - wide and flat bottomed with steep terrain on either side. This is the Feshie - it's bed the wide area of rock and stone just visible. The old river bed in the foreground is typical of the area - big rivers change their course regularly. If you do the Geldie Feshie traverse from Braemar, you will encounter this mighty river on several occasions. As noted above the tracks down it's upper reaches have been variously trashed, re-aligned, trashed again, etc. Generally you will get down the east side (i.e. the Cairngorms Loop route), albeit it's a bit hairy in places!
The Geldie, on the way into Glen Tilt from Linn of Dee. This used to run in two channels, one of which could be quite deep and would often stop people in their tracks if in spate. Early 2016 saw Storm Frank left this - a wide and shallow bed. In the ten years since, successive storms have led to more channeling, but unless it's particularly bad you will get across. The large boulder just above my bike has remained despite all of this and provides a good reference point as the river changes.
Many other water courses around the range have caused all manner of problems to people passing through the straths, with even small burns causing problems when in flood. I've had more close shaves (and wet feet) than I can recall and every trip is preceded by much scrutiny of weather and the SEPA river levels page. It's not just a case of rivers being high when it rains and low when it doesn't however. Snow melt, dryness of ground and intensity of rain fall all play a part.
Storm Bertha in 2014 was typical. The ground was bone dry and then a vast volume of water fell in a few hours, going straight into the various rivers and causing much damage. Storm Frank and the Muckle Spate of 1850 were very similar - high snowfall, large temperature rise, large snow melt and several hours of heavy rain led to a vast increase in water levels on all rivers in the catchment and vast amounts of damage.
Be warned, but that's what adventure is all about!
Clear calm days are a rarity in the these days of fluctuating weather so this was a big bonus. I spent a fair bit of time stopped, eating and wildlife spotting. Two red kites, many buzzards, many moorland birdies and a fox!
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