May BAM

I usually do my May bivvy somewhere fairly exotic as part of a longer trip or, like last year, on the Highland Trail. In view of my non-entry in this years group start, and a possible trip at the beginning of June, I thought I would make this one fairly local. Then I got to pouring over maps and figured I'd do a variation on some of my north Fife rides, pushing right out to Tentsmuir Forest which I've bivvied in once before but always fancied doing again. Thereafter I would return via a variation of one of the many routes I've used to get to the east end of Fife over the years.

A fairly light load (no beer) given the forecast. Also first use of Wildcat mini Harness.

It started well. The forecast was for sunshine all weekend with a stiff westerly for Saturday, switching to an easterly on Sunday - i.e. my whole route would be with a tailwind. I keep thinking that I'm in for some horrible headwind bad karma given how colossally lucky I've been in the last few years, wind wise (CL2020 excepted), but I do keep getting these bonus wind switches. Maybe it's making up for all the headwind misery I suffered as a youth!

I left just after 12 and headed north to the hills. I'd scoped a few trails out in the woods near Path of Condie with the potential to link through from the Dunning Road to P of C itself. This went remarkably well, the dry trails helping. So I celebrated with an early lunch reveling in the feeling of sitting in the sun, in a bit of grassland / woodland, with no biting insects. If only I knew what was coming....

Vague line through the grass - this could be a bit 'deep' later in the year...

I then threaded together a fine route east via Pitmedden Forest and some of its ace single track, a few other core paths and trails, and the Fife Coastal Path, linked by a few very quiet backroads. This route roughly follows the hills that border the fair Kingdom of Fife, overlooking the Tay estuary. It's a real mix of trails, with some really nice riding, plenty of ups and downs and fine views. 

Lindores Loch and the hills of Perthshire in the haze behind.

On one of the nicest sections of the northern part of the FCP - Looking back to the remote community of Glenduckie. It's actually only a 100m off the A913 but always seems like the land that time forgot. In the foreground is a terrace of farm cottages only accessible by a rough track.

After some road riding the coastal path drops down to the estuary shore and follows a fab noodly, rooty single track through the woods. Other than a couple of families having barbies on the shingle I had the trail to myself. 

I missed the last section beyond Balmerino as this is quite steppy and has a few annoying kissing gates, but it was a short hop up to the road to miss it. Looking at the map afterwards there are maybe a couple of other trail options along this bit although these would miss Wormit and Newport out.

The Silvery Tay and the rail bridge that is the subject of no less than three poems by William McGonagall (One celebrating the first bridge, one describing its collapse and a third celebrating the replacement i.e. this one!)

I wanted to go through Newport as I was needing food, given how light I was travelling. I spied the 'Fifie' chippy and procured a particularly fine fish supper which I wolfed down whilst sat in the evening sun. Timings had worked out to perfection as a few short road and cycleway miles saw me entering Tentsmuir Forest at 8pm and along to a bivvy spot I'd used a few years ago. That's where it all went horribly wrong.

First of all my digestive system announced it's demands and as soon as I stopped a cloud of mosquitos appeared in force. Of course I had neither a head net or any form of repellant so was totally at their mercy. I considered moving on to another spot to bivvy but I couldn't think of anywhere else close by and I figured the mozzies would be everywhere in any case.

I moved out of the grass and under some trees thinking this would be better. It wasn't. After dithering some more I set to and threw up the tarp as quick as I could. There then followed a variation of my usual pre ride faff, this time with insect bites!  I dived into the bivvy bag then got back out to rescue my specs and head torch, then dived back in. Then I got out again and rescued my phone and dived back in. Then I got out one more time and rescued my whisky (which was essential) finally getting into the bag and staying in. So much for my well practiced and slick routine... In the event I seemed to be inside alone, with the mozzies outside; so had a fairly peaceful evening. However despite wearing my beanie and throwing my cycling shirt over my head, the little ba*stards still severally stung my head through the bivvy bag mesh and both layers. Eventually I crashed out to the sound of a million (well a hundred or so) buzzing mosquitos.

The dawn chorus was deafening and the mozzie buzzing still hadn't let up, dashing my hopes that as the temps dropped over night they would hide in the grass. In fact it had stayed warm enough that even my lightweight quilt was a bit much. After lying awake for a while I realised that sleep was impossible and my bladder was making it's demands so packed up as quick as I could and departed post haste.

Bivvy shot taken after I'd torn the tarp down...

A few miles down the trail I stopped as I was out of the woods. Lo and behold no mozzies (should have bivvied here!) so I got the stove out and made breakfast. Of course as I was sitting eating it, the midges appeared, somewhat early for these eastern climbs. I wandered around to avoid them, packed up for the second time and cleared off.

Morning sun over Tentsmuir. The whole forest is very low lying and very boggy in places, probably why it's such a Mosquito haven!

My route home was a bit easier and as predicted, an easterly wind was building to assist me on my way. I departed the coastal path at Leuchars and headed back roughly through the middle of Fife following a few bits of easy trail and various back roads. Cupar was deserted at 8.30 am but the Gregs had just opened so I sat on the High Street having a leisurely second breakfast, entirely bug free. I headed across the flats of the Howe of Fife but figured on heading through the Lomond Hills on one of my usual routes home for a bit of interest and further good riding. The trails were bone dry, although the sun of the early morning had gradually given way to cloud and at one point the rain came on. But oddly enough it cleared for the final miles and I even had some sunshine. 

Total distance was a creditable 195k and I felt quite weary. If I'd bothered to look at the GPS I could have made it a round 200. In fact I've been doing some fiddling with GPX tracks and hatched a route following my outward route of Saturday and returning by the Pilgrims Way route I'd ridden out on at Midsummer in 2020. This would come in at just over the 200k mark with about 3500m of climbing. I might have a crack at this in a oner - the Kingdom 200!

Top of the last big hill looking back to the gloomy lomonds over which I'd just ridden.

As I type this a large number of bumps all over my body are itching madly...

Deeside Holiday reprised

I've just been up to Deeside for a few days starting with a 'tour' of the upper 2/3rds of the Deeside Trail. As usual the weather in the week before my holiday was glorious however the forecast was for cool temps, cloud and varying amounts of rain.... My plans had been fluid as usual but Friday looked like it was to be sunny, Saturday dry at first with rain later and thereafter possibly dry. So I figured on a couple of days bikepacking followed by some walking and maybe a day ride or two. I even went as far as booking a campsite for a couple of nights finishing with a night in Ballater at the Alexandra Hotel. So I hoofed it up to Braemar Friday morning on quiet roads ahead of the bank holiday rush with a car load of various stuff to hopefully enable a range of outdoor activities and accommodation... 

As promised the sun was shining so after loading up the bike and having a Co-op breakfast I headed out on the Deeside Trail. As previously reported this is a fine route round the periphery of the Dee valley starting in Banchory. The upper section is the wildest and features a few of my favourite trails hereabouts. I planned on following it for as far as I could be bothered, bivvy somewhere then head back to Braemar by a suitable route, depending on the rain tomorrow. The sun was hot up the days first (of many) nadgery singletrack out of the town. This persisted past Mar Lodge and up Glen Lui.

Mar Lodge seems to have been done up since I last passed through here. I'm not actually sure what the NTS do with it as you can't get in as far as I can tell....

Singletrack number two is a lovely trail through a narrow defile - The Clais Fearnaig. After a short but steepish climb it levels out and is nadge central - proper trials riding! The Jones was in its element with the rider not far behind.... 

When last I rode this the descent was fab but I'd notice a load of aggregate bags by the trail side hinting at work to be done. This seemed odd as the trail was narrow, stony and obviously saw little use. It's now been worked on in the usual NTS style i.e. lots of water bars and channels but I expect it will soon erode back to it's natural state like the trail up Glen Derry.

Heading up the Quoich water the cloud was starting to build, somewhat at odds with the sunny day predicted. The Cairngorm massif was in view with a fair bit of snow still evident. My desire to ride the Lairig Ghru is still present and had been an option for this weekend but I want to do it in good weather so sticking to the periphery of these cloud holding hills seemed a better bet. The trail out of the Quoich water is lovely threading its way through Scots pine woodland. A fair few trees had been clobbered by Storm Arwen but the trail was largely clear. Emerging out of the woods revealed more cloud and rain making the surrounding hills looked somewhat foreboding. I'd also idly considered Ben Avon in the proceedings but was happy to pass it by. 

Now my next mission was to find the secret howff - that infamous stone and tin shelter that still seems to be a secret, a miracle in these days of the internet. I'd figured out where it was from aerial photo research (and some guess work) and given the incoming rain I figured it would make a fine stop for lunch. 

So much for my research. I wasted half an hour looking for it finally realising I'd failed yet again and my confident location marker on the GPS was a bum steer. (Edit - since getting back I've had a further look and realised I was on the wrong side of the valley. Quite how I managed this is a worry, hinting at further depredations of age...) So I went back a ways and made do with the 'clach' at the top of the pass for a lunch stop. 

Heading up the trail saw the first spots of rain, typical given I was about to climb up over a short moor crossing to Glen Gairn. It was coming and going so no big deal and I cracked on eagerly anticipating my favourite trail hereabouts. The single track descent down the Gairn is a classic rocky trail presenting some great challenges with nice riding between. It's showing signs of a lot more use than it did when I first rode it in 2013 but it's none the worse for it, being more rock than bog! The cold drizzle was coming and going with an odd flurry of hail but I ignored it and got stuck in.

Looking back up the glen. The burns flowing off Ben Avon were a bit high, being fed by melting snow still, but I crossed without issue. The final crossing of the Gairn was a different story. The footbridge is long gone and the crossing point a bit deep looking. I could have stepped across on rocks just up stream but as usual I figured I could ride the ford and plunged in. Literally as the front wheel pinged off a large rock and in went a foot. I managed to get back going but now with one damp sock. Not too bad as my new boots had kept most of the water out and the sky was clearing again so it would soon dry out.

On the leisurely cruise down the lower half of the glen I realised I'd not seen a soul since leaving Glen Lui. I can't imagine this area will ever get 'busy' given it's remote-ness. In fact I'd say its mainly bikes using the area these days as it figures on a few routes. Stomping along a big track on shanks pony isn't a lot of fun (see below) so it makes sense really. As if by magic an older couple appeared on the inevitable E bikes, obviously out for a day ride. This is something of a recent phenomena as you are seeing these type of people in many places that would have been to far to get to on foot or a normal bike. It occurred to me that this is exactly the kind of people you want in these places as it diverts opinion away from the idea that mountainbikers are all young people out to rip up the trails. Many would happily see such types coralled in trail centres but its going to be hard to try to exclude respectable middle aged people!

The DT follows a nice trail and back road which misses most of the A939 down to Ballater. I sat on the village green eating a large amount of Co-op food whilst contemplating my options. It was still pretty cloudy so the big moor crossing out of Tarland seemed a bit much. I figured I'd follow the route to there at least as it is different to what I did in '17. Thereafter there were plenty of options to cut across to the other side of the glen and pick up the outward route. This plan went quickly awry in the woods of Cambus of May. Its part Forestry and Land Scotland (nee FCS) and partly Nature Scot (nee SNH.) Storm Arwen had clearly done its damage as there were trees down everywhere. I'd seen much other evidence of this already so it was most annoying that neither FLS or NS have managed to clear the trails some five months after this storm passed through. I spent some considerable time picking my way round fallen trees. Where the route leaves the track into singletrack it was worse and I realised this would likely lead to a death march so kept on the track seeing as it made a beeline for the road. More fallen trees nearly scuppered this plan but I got out eventually only to see a sign (in the other direction) indicating the track was closed, but without any indication of a diversion. Pretty rubbish really as Nature Scot (this was their bit) should be resourced enough to get this all cleared 5 months after the storm hit - I may write a polite but firm letter....

Anyway a bit of road riding and one track got me back on route in time for the Tarland Trail centre which is a hoot. Maybe not the best thing to do when loaded up (I know from experience that trying to do jumps with bags on is a really bad idea.) But I 'sent' the Jones down a few humps and bumps with only a few bangs of protest from the bike (and me) to the village. Now it occurred to me that what I really wanted was a pint, rather than a big hill climb. One pub in the village center looked OK but round the corner was a more homely place with nobody in. Hoorah - that'll be a pint please whilst I check out the weather forecast. Good news - it was to be dry all evening and the rain tomorrow looked like it wouldn't get down here until the afternoon. So plan B was engaged - head down to Aboyne, across the Dee and into Glen Tanar woods for a bivvy. Tomorrow I'd follow the DT back to Braemar, hopefully getting back before the rain came on too hard.

What do you do if you see a good pub when on holiday? Go in of course. The Boat inn is a good place with plenty ales on at a price. I sat outside and chatted to a local guy who had an extremely strong North East accent (not helped by him being absolutely wrecked) requiring some concentration to figure out. Fortunately I'm good at strong North Eastern (English) accents so I could follow most of what he was telling me. He was full of tales of drunken pub crawls by bike when he was a youth but was bemoaning the fact that most of the pubs he'd used were now shut. Alarmingly he stated he had an e-bike which only got used to take him to the local. Interestingly he said he'd just retired from a local sawmill in which he'd worked all his life. It occurred to me that his generation could do that hereabouts - get a good local job near your home, work all your days earning enough to live modestly but comfortably and retire on the state pension. I suspect that such a life is no longer possible in the modern world although recent events suggest that using a local based supply chain would solve an awful lot of the problems we are facing. I doubt if any politico is capable of making that leap of faith however....

Finally (and slightly pished) I pedaled off into the gloaming heading for a bivvy spot I'd used in 2011, deep in the woods of Glen Tanar. There is nothing like a long steady climb at the end of a long day (on singlespeed.) In the event I found a much better spot just before I reached my target - a level and grassy area by the burn - perfect. Up went the tarp, kettle on, cook and eat food, drink whisky. A fine end to a day of excellent riding and actually pretty good weather.

It was a dry night and I slept like a log as usual. I woke to the sun which was a pleasant surprise. My route would take around four or five hours so I was in no rush. After a very leisurely start I carried on up the trail only to encounter a barrier across the track and a sign telling me I couldn't go any further as a male Capercaillie was in residence. Funnily enough this same thing happened when I was here in 2011. I did what I did then - carried on. The sign suggested that any passer by would lead said bird to attack them, wasting energy. What? Capers do famously go for people leading to many instances of tourists in Speyside getting selfies with these famously ugly birds (think a turkey) in full flow. But the Firmounth is a ROW and Core path so whoever had put this barrier up was well out of order. Plus no diversion, no nothing. As with 2011 I asked a rhetorical question to the person who'd put the sign up - now what do I do? go back, go round? I wondered what would happen if you'd come over the Firmounth from Glen Esk - you'd see the closure and go back over this large and bleak moor right? Err no. Further up the track I paused to check my nav and was aware of a 'clacking' sound from a tree nearby. I grinned to myself as I knew exactly what this was. Sure enough.....

One of the worlds ugliest birds, give me a buzzard any day. It fluttered down to the track in front of me and was clearly after a rammy, so I snapped this shot and cleared off. I don't really see the problem with this, making the closure even stupider. In fact it would likely just attract more people whereas the best solution - do nothing - would mean that most people would pass through oblivious. Or they could put up some useful info like a sign saying to keep moving if the bird was encountered as all it wants is to be left alone. At least by humans that is, all it actually wants is a female caper but these seemed absent which means it's not looking good for this chap, whatever the views of the local conservationists are.

The halfway hut was looking even more dilapidated. Most of these informal bothies seem to attract some local maintenance but this one looks like its days are numbered which is a shame. This and the 'closed' path smack of an anti access vibe which does seem to be permeating certain areas in the last couple of years. Leaving Glen Tanar on the big climb over to the Dee it was clear that rain was incoming. I cracked on in a bid to beat it and had more singletrack fun down by the Dee to Ballater once more. The wind was also on the rise on the long run up Glen Muik and inevitably the first spots of rain came on, on the monster climb past Lochnagar.

This was a solid push but I hammered the descent to keep warm in the now cold drizzle. Finally it was the nice track through QE2's back garden then the road back to Braemar. I was happy as it had been mostly dry overhead and the trails were really dry. 160k done in total and some fab riding.

Singlespeed is definitely hard work round here as a lot of the climbs are steady but long. It's just a case of making yourself get off and walk!

The rain came and went I as drove down to my chosen campsite - Feughside just out of the Dee valley near Banchory. Pitching a tent in the rain is never a good thing but it was up quick enough and after the confines of the Deschutes, luxury.

Sunday dawned somewhat damp and misty but there were hints of it clearing so I got my gear together for a long walk. I've biked over Mount Battock and the eastern Mounth a couple of times now and I fancied a wander to explore these rolling bumps. After a bit of parking faffing (the downside of hill walking) a climbed out of the woods to a locally popular bump - Clachnaben. 

'Clach' is an old Scots word for a large rock formation, much like Torr in Devon and they are similar things that are scattered across the eastern end of the Cairngorms. The most famous ones are the huge clachs on the high plateau of Ben Avon. These were in the cloud today as was the top of Mount Battock, my destination. The track along the ridge had recently been done up by the looks leading me to think I'd have been better off with the bike. It made for easy walking but it's rather hard on the feet. That said, the landscape is covered in vast peat hags so without the track it would have been a mission. I took shelter from the cold wind in a shooting hut for lunch then finished the climb in scudding cloud. So much for the view....

After some route rumination (my plan to traverse further hills back to the car looked a dubious prospect given the preponderance of peat hags) I dropped off the hill on a vague path heading for a route back to Glen Dye. Some nav faffing and a fair bit of heather bashing got me to yet another big track. Oh well, I'd little choice but to march on. At least the sun was now shining - once again I'd summited an hour early - so I tramped down the glen, stopped for a snack at Charr bothy (which has been re-decorated since my last visit,) abandoned a plan to climb back over to the days first hill as a 'short cut' and finished my tramp round to the road and the car. I was a bit shocked to find I'd actually done 20 miles, my longest walk for some considerable time. Other than being a bit footsore I was in remarkably good shape. Maybe I will do the West Highland Way!

Luxury digs and sunshine to boot

Tea was cooked and eaten in the sun but Monday dawned to more mist. Ballater was my destination but on a whim I parked up at Aboyne figuring on doing a bit of a classic circuit on the Firmounth and Fungle Road, both routes I'd done loaded previously so it would be nice to do on a bare bike as the Fungle road featured a couple of ace single track descents. Of course this would take me back through yon Capercaillies domain. On the climb I passed two couples walking and another on bikes. I wonder if they would follow the notice or, more likely proceed with cameras at the ready!

Sure enough, there he was perched at the side of the track. I waved a greeting and carried on up the climb, out of the woods and over what is a large moor. I'd vaguely recalled it went on for some time - a classic traverse where the steep climb is dispensed with only for another hill to present itself, then another and another. More trackwork has been done since my last visit although one natural (and rather boggy) section remains. 

Looking into Glen Esk with my local hills just visible in the distance. I noted that Mount Battock was cloud free and there were even hints of Lochnagar and Ben Avon in the distance. After a short descent you turn back on yourself on the Fungle road.

I pondered the origins of its name but even Neil Ramsey's book on the Mounth roads states that no one really knows. Likely it's a derivation of an old Scotts word or name for a hill that has evolved over the years into a word that bears no resemblance to its origin. 

The first part of the descent is on a well made path that seems to have stood the test of time as it was new in 2011 when I first passed through. The path along the glen bottom has been widened to more smooth doubletrack but the route at the head of the Birse is a still a vague line round some woods. I sat in here eating food and planned another bikepacking foray through these hills. They are a good choice as the trails are generally good going and there is some nice single track. The challenge is many big hills to climb but there is nothing too horrible for anyone with a bit of leg, or a low gear (or singlespeed and good walking boots). I've found adopting a mix of pushing and riding as the terrain and your energy levels vary, is the secret to making progress. Speaking of which I pushed up the steep climb out of the Birse and joined the DT for the last time. This takes you down a section of narrow, rutted and rooty singletrack to the 'Guard' - a house on it's own in the woods. At the top of this I chatted to a group of lads on ebikes whose attention had been drawn to the Jones' odd lines. Locals by the sounds and we exchanged much chat about the good bike riding to be had in this area. I even thought to myself that this would make a fine place to retire to. Not sure what house prices are like mind....

I was hailed by a couple of blokes walking down the trail just before the Guard. It was Colin Calder and his mate, recognising me from the Cairngorms Loop group start in September 2020. He'd been singlespeed too and we'd both exchanged gear ratio notes and tales of the horror of the wind on the last 70k. Quite how you meet someone only met once before, and recognises you, is one of those things that never cease to amaze. Of course the Jones at least is instantly recognisable, even if I'm not!

Ironically on the final track descent, there was quite a bit of water from the rain on Sunday and this got liberally sprayed all over me and the bike, despite it having remained remarkably clean to this point, thanks to the dry trails. Only 40k but a fine route and no rain!

My short holiday finished with a night of luxury in the Alexandra hotel in Ballater. I'd discovered this place on my post HT17 camping holiday as it had Tradewinds on hand pump and seemed a nice spot for a few pints. I'd been meaning to stay since but never got round to it. Pretty reasonable too at £50 B&B, not much more than the nearby Hostel, which I've stayed in a few times but these days I'm done with dorms!

So a good trip all in all. I'm definitely going to do the full Deeside Trail at some point, having failed to do it so far, despite several other times where I'd told people I wanted to do it. I'm also going to reprise my Mounth Roads tour of 2011/16 at some point but this time a) do the whole lot and b) avoid campsites and bothies!

Sunny Tour of the Cairngorms

I'd spent last weekend sat at home watching the sunshine, monumentally frustrated that I couldn't go out due to being duty manager. So I was somewhat surprised that the fine weather looked set to last across this weekend. I needed to do a bivvy to tick off March but the weather meant that local riding plans were dropped in favour of a longer trip around my favourite mountain range. I'd not made it to the Cairngorms at all last year and only doing the Cairngorms loop group start the previous year. So it was an obvious choice and would allow an easy trip with zero planning, given how well I know the trails around these hills.

The Cairngorms Tour is something of a classic bikepacking route that's been around since long before 'bikepacking' was coined. As per the 300k Cairngorms Loop it laps the mighty Cairngorms plateau roughly following the inner loop as far as Glenmore and then transferring to the outer loop via the fine Ryvoan Pass. This means the difficult terrain over Bynack More, across the Fords of Avon and down to Glen Derry is avoided and instead you get generally easy riding with only one really big climb, a few lesser ones and some nice singletrack, including the fabulous Glen Tilt Descent. 

So this was my plan. However a squint at the Scottish Avalanche Information Service website blogs indicated plenty of snow on high, all of the well consolidated variety. So my next decision was to go with the fat bike, complete with bud 'n lou, and throw in a route variation taking in the Minigaig pass and the high ground to Glen Feshie, in order to hopefully bag some snow time. Friday after work saw my usual scramble to throw bags on bike, stuff into bags, into the car, final check to ensure I'd got everything and then it was up the road to Blair Atholl. A last second addition to the trip planning was a frantic text to friends - "Its sunny, I'm off round the Cairngorms, fancy meeting up near Tomintoul?" - reply = "Yes, see you there!" Great, a good social as well as ace riding.

The chippy at the car park in Blair Atholl was in full flow so I figured on eating here to save carrying food up. I've not had fish and chips for months (years?) so this was most welcome. That said I wasn't planning on going far that evening so I'd no justification for this calorie fest other than it was Friday, I'd had another hectic week, and I could. I set off at 6 into the gloaming heading for a spot at the top of Glen Banvie scoped on a previous trip. 

Fully 5 miles later I got there just as dusk was merging into dark. A bit of nosing around found a spot under trees that would hopefully keep off the worst of the frost but allow the sun in the following morning. Tarp up, into bag, relax - the true value of a Friday bivvy. I'd hauled some cans up with me which were the icing on the cake as I laid back and read, various night noises around me, including the siren warble of a Snipe. This odd sounding bird caused me much consternation when I first heard it many years ago as it didn't sound at all natural - more like some kind of early warning for the milder type of calamity! - however when ever I hear it, it takes me back to a very peaceful holiday on Sanday in the Orkneys and some great fat biking.

After a solid 8 hours sleep I woke to the sun peeping over the hill opposite. It was occluded by some trees for a bit but eventually was shining full into my tarp. It had dropped to -3 in the night so I lazed about for a while eating breakfast and drinking coffee, to give the sun a chance to warm things up and burn off the frost from the tarp. 9am saw me heading over to Glen Bruar on what is becoming a rarity - a nice rough doubletrack that has so far avoided the inevitable motorway standard upgrade for a windfarm, micro-hydro scheme or stalking access. Sadly the partially ruined cottage of Ruichlarie has been flattened which is a shame as it would have made a good bothy, or at least a cheeky shelter.

The temps were climbing steadily, there wasn't a cloud in the sky and barely a breath of wind as I pedaled easily up the glen, eagerly looking at snow patches and trying to gauge what it would be like up top. Soon enough the head of the glen was reached and the steep climb out of it revealed.

The Minigaig is a great route well off the usual haunts of both walkers and cyclists. I've done it a few times now and it offers a fine challenge and great views. On the steep climb a soaring eagle overhead gave me a chance for a breather. I watched it circle for a while, the sun shining golden through its wing feathers. Sightings of these incredible birds are becoming more common now that they are getting much less in the way of persecution from land owners but seeing one never fails to take my breath away. Over the glen side the terrain levels into a wide area of high land crossed by several small burns. Large snow patches were everywhere and I was soon in amongst them. I'd worried that the high temps would have left them as an unrideable porridge but repeated freeze / thaw cycles had left all remaining snow like concrete. The top inch or so was quite soft, necessitating a lowering of tyre pressures for grip. Then it was a case of linking up these areas of firm and smooth going, weaving round the line of path, often only visible due to an odd cairn poking above the surface of the snow. In the middle of one patch I encountered a large frog sat in a hollow but standing out like a sore thumb. I urged it to move on given the nearby monster bird of prey but it sat there with that usual look of contentment that frogs exude, usually just before getting eaten or squashed...

At one point the route drops into a narrow defile which in turn feeds into a wider burn line. I'd done this route in 2015, also at the end of March, but with a lot more snow. This gully was entirely filled and I had ridden across it some 3m above the notional ground level. Today it was a steep drop in.

No snow bridge over the wider burn but snow melt hadn't set in too much (a pre-trip concern) so it was an easy crossing. I went off line up another side burn in order to bag the biggest patch of snow I'd encountered so far.

The snow patches got bigger as the altitude increased and I continued up to the pass summit with only a few gaps, making a normally tough route easy. The trail on this section has faded away - a sure sign of how little use this route gets these days - and it can be a schlep, particularly after wet weather. I contemplated picking up the high peaks of Gaik Forest as there was much snow in evidence but in the end stuck to my original plan of linking through to Glen Feshie. The north side of the Minigaig is also very vague and hard going these days so it's better to head east along a line of hills which link to the Feshie and the best views of the day. The going is fairly easy (on a fat bike especially) over short turf and various sheep paths. A bit of height loss and another huge patch of iron hard snow lead to a steeper climb to an unnamed hill at 912m, complete with a trig point.

The full drama of the Cairngorm Plateau.

This is a fine hill to be on. As well as the nearby Cairngorms and upper Spey valley you can see clear across to the Western Highlands, the hills of Perthshire, Ben Alder and Creag Meghaid. Snow looked to be still much in evidence making me wonder if I should have gone with another skiing trip but looking at where the weather is going, there is time yet for some more sliding. Also of note from here are the upper reaches of the Feshie. This mighty river actually heads due east from this hill before doing a 180, almost at the Geldie, which heads east towards the Dee, rather than the Feshie's northern path to the Spey. It flows for 20k to the point the Cairngorms Loop encounters it as a vast river but that point is only 6k from this hill. This area is a large and remote piece of land. Argocat tracks are finding their way into it these days (for stalking purposes) but very few people visit this isolated spot.

The descent was on a vast field of snow. Having not been in the sun as much it was distinctly slippy. Movement was as much sideways as downwards, justification for the big tyres. One day I will attach skis to the bike in order to reach such fields for some isolated sliding.

Finally the snow was left behind. I'd considered a further climb and ridge of hills above the Feshie but the big track up to them seems to have been removed and there was no obvious way up. (Edit - I've since learned that the lower level track I could see is to be pushed through to the bottom of the Minigaig with a bridge over the Bhran. This will make a fine through route.) I was also aware of the time - 12pm - and the agreed meeting point with my friends at Loch Builg Lodge, some 55 miles distant. So I hared off down the descent to the glen and then settled into a steady gait along the Feshie and the familiar route to the bridge, through Inshriach, Loch an Eilean and Rothiemurchus. 

Looking up Glen Feshie from whence the CL route comes out after the tricky traverse of the Geldie.

Everything was pretty much dry, the sun was beating down and there were surprisingly few folk about. I sat by the loch eating some food as I was feeling the distance but on reaching Glenmore and the Pinemartin Bar I was compelled to stop for more food and a pint of Tradewinds. This used to be a regular stopping point for me on the way to Rob and Iona's old place in Aviemore, usually after doing one of many routes both off and on road over the hills of Deeside, Donside and the Mounth. But since they moved house I rarely pass it, even before pandemic world appeared, so this was mighty fine. As expected the place was hoaching but most people were just finishing lunch so I could sit in peace, contemplating my onward route. One good thing to come out of pandemic world - covered outside seating for cafes. Who wants to cram into a poky cafe when you can lounge outside without upsetting anybody with your 30 mile body odour....

From the top of Ryvoan looking back to the Cairngorms, the gun barrel clearly visible to the right.

So onwards through Strathnethy - as fine a place as you can ride a bike through on a warm spring evening. I cracked on just because I could as much as to try to get within a reasonable shout of my notional meeting time with R&I. The crowds disappeared after the green loch and I had Ryvoan pass to myself, Cairngorm views all around. The last time I'd been through Strath Nethy was a bleary eyed morning in September 2020 on the only group start I'd managed that year. The comparisons between that epic day and this ride would feature heavily in the coming miles. I'd still some river concerns given that the days sun would have melted much snow however rivers Feashellach, Dorback and Brown were flowing but easily crossed. 

Fairly typical cool weather load out for me, which the ICT took in it's stride.

Glen Brown seemed like a haven of peace and tranquility in the evening sunshine. The trail is well established now but I kind of wish people had kept to the south side post Hurricane Bertha in 2014 as this would mean you only crossed the river three times, instead of 7.... 

Tomintoul was reached at 5 and I noted the first bikepackers of the trip - two bikes parked outside the pub. I guess if I wasn't meeting with friends I'd have done the same but instead it was off up the long, long road by the river Avon. This is another great piece of land, the might Avon roaring below with views to the vastness of Ben Avon ahead, still largely white. I passed another pair on gravel bikes, just pitching up by the builg, but I left them with a wave as dusk was starting to fall. As had been the case all day, the trail by the loch was pretty dry and a fine end to a long day. 

I arrived at the ruined lodge to be greeted by Rob and Iona and a gin and tonic - how civilised. We sat out chatting and eating (and drinking) listening to another snipe warbling away, what seemed like Scotland's entire population of grouse and the roar of the river gairn in the background, full of melting snow after the warm day. Squeaking brake noises and lights heralded the arrival of the two bikes I'd spied at Tomintoul. They seemed a bit lost looking for bivvy spots so I flashed a light at them to indicate the lodge which had plenty of space. They were from the Midlands doing a tour from Elgin to Montrose and had had a long day, with another to follow the next. We chatted a bit and compared set ups (Rob was retro with his Yak Bob and Iona was sporting front and rear panniers. This is the future). Eventually the chill drove us into bags and a cold night followed.

Another perfect pitch as the sun shone straight into my tarp as it crested the horizon. It had fallen to -6 that night and all round was ice - inside and outside the tarp, on my bivvy bag (it was stuck to the tarp!) and on the lochan just down from our spot. Much dampness from condensation inside the bivvy bag got me out into the strengthening sun for a leisurely breakfast with further chat as everything thawed out and dried off.

Thanks to the clocks changing I departed the 'lodge' at a leisurely 10.30 for the last of the route. I'd thought of crossing the Gairn to do the ace single track up the glen and down to Linn of Quoich but it was fairly flowing with snow melt, even after the overnight freeze, and crossing would have been either a frozen foot or wet boot job. Plus my freewheel was making some funny noises so I figured I should take the straight road home. To say it was a change from the last time I was here in September 2020 was a gross understatement. Warm sunshine (already 20 degrees warmer than at first light), a gentle breeze and clear views all around made the lengthy climb a pleasure.

Ben Avon with plenty of snow still. I'd idly contemplated doing this today as the snow fields would have made it fantastic fun. Laziness ultimately stopped this idea but I would like to do it as a day ride at some point.

Lochnagar

I bombed the descent and kept to the north side of the Dee, missing out Braemar and a chunk of road riding. This is another fine rough track that actually serves a small cottage but has avoided the inevitable upgrade. Once you cross into NTS land however the track had been scraped out, presumably as a pre-cursor to just such work. The NTS do seem a bit random in terms of removing some tracks and upgrading others. When spying out routes a while ago I was amused to discover that the tracks they had reduced to path sized up Glen Lui and Derry both have argocat tracks paralleling them. Their plan had been to do all stalking off horse back, hence the track removal, but deer numbers have remained high so presumably this plan hasn't worked. Another oddity is the bridge their machine driver destroyed in 2002 up by Derry Lodge. This accessed the bothy and a cottage, the residents of which presumably have to wade the river now. Conversely, The bridge across the Quoich water which was half wrecked the last time I was here has been removed and a new one put in. I wonder how long this will last.... 

Then it was off down past Linn of Dee and into the wide strath that precedes the fabulous Tilt descent, also a joy after the misery of the Cairngorms Loop group start in 2020. I'd had a near total sense of humour failure that time as the wind battered me to a standstill time after time. Today all was calm.

I stopped for lunch at White Bridge, peering up the strath of the Lairig Ghru. The SAIS blog had provided a good shot of the pass from the summit of Ben Macduibh showing much snow. I'd been tempted by an expedition up here as if there was plenty of firm snow then the famously rocky path could be avoided and a much easier traverse effected. Despite many people telling me not to bother with this route, it remains one I will do at some point 'just because it's there,' to quote a famous mountaineer. In any case, my copy of 'Further adventures in rough stuff,' the RSF photo journal part 2, showed pictures of two Lairig Ghru passages by (touring) bike so it should be easy on a fat bike, even though all of NTS's path works got trashed within a few years of being done. 

Food eaten, I cruised across my favourite bit of the land hereabouts. It seemed particularly fine today, the low hills nearby bordering this wide vale, the white tops of the High Cairngorms in the background.

The red bothy nearing completion, just needs the paneling in the interior. The wooden hut to the side has a 4 person thunderbox as well as what looks like more accommodation. I hope its a success given how accessible it is.

That bloody river crossing. Not as wild as it was in September 2020 but high thanks to taking snow melt from the wide land above the Geldie. I failed at the same point as I did the last time but managed to get a foot onto a rock and then across with dry feet. The Bynack and the Seilich were low enough to splash across without a pause. I actually passed a couple of walkers here. I'd expected to meet loads given the weather but I guess not everyone can drop everything and go, like what I can do. Finally I crested the watershed, noting the Tilt as a twinkling trickle rather than a raging torrent as per the last time, then tipped into the descent. 

It was a joy and my riding seemed to respond to the occasion cleaning everything cleanable (by me!) including the rocky bit that angles across the narrow trail. The only danger was to the many frogs sat sunbathing right in the trail. After seeing the one the previous day in the snow, it seemed like every puddle, pond, bog or burn had been alive with them, little beady eyes poking above the surface, jumping around and wandering blithely across my path leading to much frantic bunny (frog?) hopping.

On the narrow trail....

At the crossing of the Tarf Water. The last narrow stepped climb was dispensed with and then it was a nice leisurely cruise down the glen. What joy it was to pass the turn off to Fealar lodge knowing I didn't have to do it....

Total mileage was 113. The fatty had been a blast and I felt particularly smug having stuck with the biggest, heaviest, most rolling resistant tyres known to cycling, purely to enable riding across a few k of snow. It crossed my mind that this could be a good ITT route as a complement to the full 300k CL. If you missed out Glen More it would be largely re-supply free, adding to the challenge. The Minigaig adds a further nice altitude challenge and it would be particularly fine for it to finish right down the Tilt with no sting in the tail. I think that the next time I'm here I'm going to go for the Lairig Ghru. It should be doable in a day so no need for sleeping gear and now that the clocks have changed there will be plenty of daylight. Watch this space!

Non Bikepacking Interlude, Gone (Ski) Touring

I've been ski touring for a few years now and it's a great way of heading off into the winter wilderness away from the crowds - kind of the skiing equivalent of mountain biking away from trail centres. Part of it is the wish to explore, but equally its perfectly acceptable to head for a famous mountain purely for the purpose of 'sessioning' one nice slope a few times. Its particularly fine when the weather is good and you know there will be hoards at the various Scottish ski centres with the attendant lengthy queues and crowded slopes. You will also generally be away from the usual haunts of the Munro baggers and winter mountaineers as the skier is generally aiming for different terrain.

Of course its never as simple as that and a certain amount of determination is required, as well as a willingness to deal with foul weather and the ability to grab the opportunities when they arise. And like everything else these days, ski touring requires a mountain of gear with endless permutations of ski widths, boot types, binding types, etc. etc. that will be familiar to any bike obsessive. Likewise you get the 'old skool' types who do it on skinny skis, leather boots and simple freeheel bindings - a fine analogy of the guy on the ancient steel tourer who will happily take it to the places many would only dare go with 6" of suspension travel.

My own approach is a bit of a mixture. I've spent a fair bit on the latest gear in order to try to compensate for my crap technique (I am all the gear and no idea when it comes to skiing), but conversely have committed my soul to the pursuit of the free heel; i.e telemarking. In the last few years I have also given the skinny skis / leather boots thing a try but so far I've not achieved much beyond a lot of bruising on my backside....

Keeping it local. The Ochills have provided me with some fine skiing, helped by the easy terrain and lack of rocks. This was a fine powder day off the back of Whitewisp Hill.

Even more local - in fact from my front door. Leather boot / skinny skiing the Knockhill couloir.

A less optimal day in the Ochills. I once heard someone describe Scottish ski touring as being a mix of opportunism and optimism. This was me grabbing an optimistic day on the skinny skis. Objectively it was a winner as I spent a lot more time on the skis than off them...

And finally for the local photos, and at the other end of the spectrum - entering the tree line in a foot of powder. Tree skiing is largely unknown in Scotland as snow generally only occurs well above where trees can grow. This was a rare and very special day in the Ochills, winter '21 (it was also my 50th!)

Today I was heading for the hills west of the A9 as it surmounts the Drumochter pass. The forecast was for sun, snow levels should be good and snow conditions potentially perfect. Oh and no avalanche risk. I never ski anything steep enough for this to be an issue in any case but its always nice to know... Driving up (annoyingly skiing requires lots of driving) revealed many bare hills. But a glimpse of solid white on Ben a'Ghlo suggested I was on the money. Sure enough as I burned up the dual carriageway, my target hills were (nearly) solid white. The sun was shining, the temps were low single figures and I'd remembered all my stuff. Oh yes.

The length of the walk in (i.e. before you can put your skis on) is always a consideration not shared by our Alpine cousins. 1 hour seems to be the limit for most folk but it all depends on the end product. A much viewed video on you tube followed two guys who walked up a largely snow free Ben Nevis, in order to ski tower gulley on its north face, the catch being this was mid summers day in 2011! Today my stomp up the track from Dalnaspidal Lodge (the start of the track past Loch Garry to Loch Rannoch via Duinish Bothy) up by the Alt Coire Luidhearnaidh to my first use of skis took half an hour. Looking up revealed many big snow patches with solid cover higher up. Below 500m was largely bare. 500m has no geographical significance but a lot of fat biking experience has shown that this is the magic number, altitude wise, below which there can be no snow and above which loads. I don't know why this should be. 

The best example of the 500m rule - Winter 2014. This was on Glas Tulaichean on a rare nice day that year. Wild weather led to the most snow seen for a generation but it was all above 500m. Below there was not a drop...

Ski touring fun - threading a line through the snow patches to avoid having to take skis off. A bit of nosing about enabled me to pick a line with only some minor heather trimming required. This got me onto the big white room - flat white all round, the sun beating down and a breeze to keep you cool. After much climbing (more later) I traversed the large rounded bump of Meallan Bhuide and summited to get an idea as to where I fancied going. The southern flank of Sgairneach Mhor was my notional target as I've seen this hill many times from the A9, plastered in snow and looking just the place for some easy turns. As I'd hoped it was completely white and looked perfect. This was going to be a good day. 

The snow was quite hard thanks to a number of thaw / freeze cycles and cold overnight temps but the blazing sun should soften it to give the perfect combination of a firm surface but plenty of grip and easy edging, skiing heaven. Dropping some height revealed my new skins liked to glide (also more later) and I was cruising. A line choice error lead to skis off and a brief walk before I got onto another vast white slope heading for the summit of Mam Ban. Now if you were to walk across this sans snow it would be an ankle and knee threatening mass of heather, tussocks, rocks and bunny holes. Today it was billiard table smooth and easy going. And speaking of bunnies I saw several mountain hares in their winter coats - fabulous. Eventually I topped out to see a vast winter panorama all round.

To the south were the Perthshire hills, with the cone of Schiehallion prominent. To the west the jaggy bumps of Glencoe could be seen and to the north east the vast Cairngorm plateau. Closer too were the various bumps around Ben Alder looking dramatic with snow covered crags. I skied around for a bit taking all this in before turning east and heading up the wide ridge of Sgearneich Mhor. I'd walked here in September 2020 on a similarly sunny (but entirely snow free) day so knew the local layout well enough to need minimal navigation on this clear day.

Across the top it was quite icy. Still grippy but my upward progress was accompanied by much scraping. Typically on reaching the summit I noted a fair bit of cloud obscuring the Cairngorms but the sun shone to the south. Jacket on, off with skins and into bag, shorten poles, remove hat and sunnies, put lid and goggles on, adjust boots, step into skis, get ready for the off. Yes ski touring involves a lot of faffing although with practice 'transitions' can be effected fairly quickly. In theory you're meant to spend the whole morning climbing up some Alpine monster and then spend an hour or two going down so you are only removing skins / adjusting gear once. In Scotland you have to be prepared for a lot more ups and downs if you want a full day out, therefore a lot more kit changes. Disaster struck when I bent over to attach ski leashes (these prevent the ski disappearing down the hill in the event of a crash / binding release) as brown liquid poured out of my rucksack, over my head and onto the snow. What? Oh it's tea. Yes my flask lid had sprung and bending over had caused it to open and empty its contents into the rucksack and then over my head. Fortunately my down jacket was in a dry bag and there was nothing else in there I needed but I was miffed to say the least - no tea with my lunch! I seem to be suffering from an abundance of muppetry these days.

Anyway, into the first descent. There was much scraping on the icy summit ridge as I dropped back aways, in order to avoid the steep stuff. I paused for breath and to wait for the cloud to clear as all around me was flat white. The sun came out to reveal a smooth descent to a wide gulley some 1000m (horizontally) below. As soon as I rolled off the ridge I was out of the ice and into perfect soft snow. As usual my first few turns were a bit clanky until I found that perfect telemark rhythm. Lower down were a few obstacles but these just added to the fun, riding round rocks and heather patches and nipping through narrow snow bridges to another wide snow field. Finally I dropped into the snow filled gulley breathing hard with the effort.

Now its a funny thing but I've noticed that hill walkers always seem to want to stop for lunch on the summit of a hill, even if its blowing a gale. This has lead to much building of stone shelters on hill tops across the land in order to try and find some comfort when cowering from the wind and rain. Personally I like to eat lunch in comfort and this was a perfect spot. I sat in a patch of dry grass, the sun beating down and reflecting off the snow around me, with not a breath of wind. Apart from the lack of tea I spent a fine hour sunbathing and eating and wondering what to do next.

Easy, do it again, and again. Skinning up enabled a bit more surveying of the slope to find a much better line than my first run. There was a steady stream of walkers on the summit and heading up to Ben Udlamain - a well trodden munro baggers route - but my personal ski slope was entirely free of others. This is all tremendously hard work of course and my legs were fair aching by the time I finished the third run.

Skiing uphill?

Despite the popularity of ski touring and its various nordic variations, the concept of skiing uphill is still something that non outdoors type seem to struggle with. Skins are the answer - a modern analogy of strips of seal skin that stone age inhabitants of Scandinavia strapped to the bottom of the long carved planks used to travel across deep snow. These days they are either wholly synthetic or use mohair (poor bunnies) to form a dense knap of fibers all pointing backwards. So pushing a ski forwards means the skin glides across the snow but it stops the ski going backwards (thing stroking a cat the wrong way). This enables you to slide up quite a steep hill in order to then bomb back down it again. They attach to the ski base via a self adhesive surface - sort of like extra sticky post-it notes - and straps or clips at the tip and tails. Managing these is a royal pain in the backside, particularly if its windy, as they try to stick themselves to you, the ground, your rucksack and each other. Also in Scotland is the ever present threat of grass which if it gets onto the sticky backing, takes endless hours to pick off. Ask me how I know! 

How much grip uphill depends on the area of the skin you have, your weight, the snow conditions and the gradient. Problems arise as a gradient increases and suddenly (always without warning) your ski shoots backwards as grip fails. In certain situations (an icy Fiacaille ridge in my case) this can be dodgy as you always seem to be beyond the point of safety when grip fails. If you're on a narrow ridge or slope you need to engage plan B. Plan B involves getting off the skis and into your crampons (you have remembered them haven't you?) which can be a challenge in the kind of conditions that lead you to this point in the first place i.e. steep, icy and exposed. 

On wider slopes its just a case of cutting across the slope at a shallower angle and zig-zagging your way up. At the end of each zig (or zag) you do what's called a kick turn. This involves a ballet dancer-esque move whereby you kick round your uphill foot so that its pointing the other way, then you swing round the other foot in one balletic movement. Unfortunately this results in feet pointing in opposite directions, obviously whilst attached to 6 foot long planks. The strain on ones groin is immense and I therefore tend to adopt a less stylish but more age friendly approach by shuffling one ski, then the other, round to face the new direction, the difficulty being its easy to end up with one ski pointing up the hill and therefore sliding back down, generally dumping you on your backside (again). 

For narrower nordic type skis a pattern of rear facing 'fish scales' molded into the middle third of the base provides grip for going along and up easier grades. In theory this is much better for varied terrain as you can progress without any kit changes and can make for very fast going. The problem is that the gradient you can get grip on is a lot less than a skin and they tend to be a bit unpredictable in soft snow, leading to more flailing about and falls. The narrow skis are also harder to turn and if you are really going for the true Nordic style you also need leather boots which makes holding an edge solely down to will power. Fishscale bases are finding their way onto wider and wider skis however.

Looking across my personal ski area

On this slope the skinning had been easy. I've seen plenty vids of people negotiating narrow couloirs, steep burn lines and even full on climbing but my preference is for an easy time and some nice skiing. Its why I've skied my local Ochills so many times. Nice grassy rolling bumps just make it so much easier and you don't have to worry about errant rocks wrecking bases if the snow is a bit thin.

So now what. I was tired but the sun still shone and I had a suspicion this may be it for winter 21/22. So I decided to ski up to the point I'd reached earlier to get one more view of Ben Alder before making may way back. I noted that someone else had been down my slope but I was pleased that my visible tracks indicated some nice even turns. I paused for one final look at the view and then turned for home. Three people on skis appeared coming down towards me. We stopped to exchange route notes and they headed off. I was pleased to see they all had freeheel bindings, two on nordic skis and one heroically using leather boots. I felt slightly self conscious on my fancy (and nearly new) skis and hi-tech bindings as I watched them effortlessly glide away.

Its not always so nice - this was a wild day in 2013 on the summit of Cairngorm....

I headed back roughly the way I'd come, less the walking thanks to a better route choice. It's always good when you peel the skins off for the last time and start the final run down. This is also something that for us Scottish ski tourers differs somewhat from what our European cousins have to contend with. For them its just a case of making the best of the last run, right down to the car park, off with your gear and into a bar for a post ski beer. In Scotland its a case of trying to get as far down the hill as possible before the snow runs out and you are back on shanks pony. This led to another ace run as the snow lower down was lovely and soft. Several turns on some big patches linked by narrow bits through the heather got me back to my start point. 20 minutes of leisurely walking later I was back at the car, looking up into where I'd been with a huge grin at having bagged such a fabulous day.