Yorkshire Dales Holiday

Well finally a period of decent weather looked like it was going to coincide with one of my holidays. South looked better than north and I figured that the Yorkshire Dales would be a fine place to spend some time. After hammering the YD300 last year I'd vowed to return to do some normal riding and maybe an easy bivvy trip. So I decided to do both. First up would be a tour over three days to ride the bits of the YD300 I've only done in the dark, in the daylight; and to re-visit some other nice trails; then I'd find a campsite for a few days for some walking, maybe a day ride or two and a few beers.

I called in at the folks place and did think of starting from there (near Darlington) to save car parking hassles. In the event I drove to Reeth and abandoned the heap on the village green, studiously ignoring the sign requesting a (voluntary) donation cum parking charge. This sign has been there since I first visited in 1980 something and I (or my parents) have made enough donations over the years. As forecast, it was sunny! And quite hot, to the point that I'd given some thought to dealing with the heat. So obviously starting the day with a humongous climb was a really good idea.... I'd had a pre ride meal of cake from the Dales bike centre so pushed most of the fearsome hill up to Fremington Edge (as per YD300) noting a stiff breeze which would make the next 36 hours most pleasant. A dude on an e-bike pulled along side out of Hurst and chatted for a bit about (my) bike. He seemed a decent sort but I wanted to ask him - "Why are you on that when you are younger than me!" Oh well, it get's people out I suppose but there are an awful lot of these round here now.

On the descent to Langthwaite I indulged myself somewhat as normally I'm starting to feel the distance (on the YD300 that is) so tend to take it canny whereas today, under the circumstances, I gave it some stick! Then more climbing on dust dry grassy trails and the steady pull to Level House.

Old Gang Lead mines and smelter - a huge industry in it's day. Note weather....

I eschewed the precipitous descent down the hush that the YD route follows, in favour of the bridleway up to the top of Gunnerside Gill -

Shades of Glen Tilt and some pretty tricky bits, including a dodgy step across a small burn and ravine. A stream out of an old level provided the bottles first fill up. Keep drinking buddy! Then more fun grassy bridleway followed.

Gunnerside presented a cafe which looked open and a pub. The cafe was empty and the outside seating in the shade so this won. I was determined to use as many eating and drinking establishments as I could on this trip. I'd no stove with me as I knew there would be plenty of choice for food. Sat in the warm afternoon eating soup and drinking tea was most pleasant.

The Buttertubs pass seemed a bit much for a hot day - it had been consistently 30 degrees all day so far. Instead I opted for the slightly lower and more engaging climb up past Oxnop Scar. It's tarmac, just, but after an initial steep pull is fairly steady to the top. I saw a Red Kite circling around me but sadly it didn't get close enough for a good pic. I'm seeing a lot more of these fab birds though which is very nice. Silly speeds were approached on the descent, followed by a pint in the sun in Askrigg. Then another. 

Now what. I did have a notional route plan and a bivvy spot in mind but it was a bit early to be blazing up Cam fell just yet. The Crown wasn't serving food for an hour so I figured on Hawes as it's chippy is ace. A leisurely cruise along the back road followed and then a fine fish tea sat in the sun.

This is a nice thing - a Triumph 500 lump shoe-horned into a Greeves roadster rolling chassis (not a Scottish for the aficionados!) Black marks for oil tightness though. Some bloke wandered up to the owner and started banging on about 'patina' which is a word I hate when applied to a motorised vehicle (and one that is seeming to be applied a lot recently) as it belongs to a piece of furniture not something with an engine. 'Rat', 'Nail', 'f*****d' are fine or even just 'well used.' 

Anyway another huge climb beckoned. There are four ways up to Cam fell from Hawes so obviously I chose the easiest one. Along the road to Burtersett and up the wee road over to Semer Water until it crosses the Roman road, then up this, much hated on the YD as it's an 8 mile grind. For me it was a four mile grind into a stiff headwind which was a blessing to be honest. In fact I made a few route choices based on doing the climbs into the wind, in order to keep cool.

Bivvy locus reached but too early so I sat on a small hill and watched the sun steadily sink to the horizon whilst reading and sipping whisky. Then I went back aways and.... rolled out my bivvy bag. No faffing looking for a spot or worrying about shelter, just roll out the bag on a level piece of grassy hillside! Yes! Finally I was bivvying without a tent, tarp or shed!

Sunset over the lakeland hills

Oh look, it's sunny again!

This had all worked out well, I would ride down the roman road and Pennine Way to Horton in Ribblesdale, have a huge breakfast in the Pennygent cafe and then proceed east then south, back west then north. Easy, and with a great length of trail, last tackled in the early hours of the morning on last years YD. Except I was horrified to discover that said cafe was shut. In fact shut down by the looks! What's that all about then as it was a goldmine. And Horton had precisely Hee Haw in terms of other shops or eating establishments. Hells bells, now what. And why didn't I bring my stove! There was no way I was dong 7 miles of road riding to Settle so I figured on heading to Clapham. This threw my route plans into disarray but eating food was my priority. But how to get there. I wasn't going to go the direct route as that would be dull. I wanted to do the lovely trail from Selside to Clapham past Moughton Scar so up the road (back north) we go, the first of many bits of back tracking, route repeating and random wandering I would do, all thanks to a closed cafe!

Moughton Scar limestone paving

I do like this area and smooth grassy trails are fab. The fast run down to Clapham was ped free so taken at high(ish) speed. The cafe was shut but the excellent shop is actually a better bet as they sell a range of pies and sandwiches, coffee, cake and ice cream. I grabbed an armload and retired to their seating area and sat and ate for some considerable period of time. But where now! I'd effectively lopped a huge loop off my planned route but didn't want to miss out the trails I'd cut. So for starters, east along the fine network of lanes and trails that the various YD200's/300 have used.

Fab clapper bridge.

Back roads took me to Settle and I decided that I should probably stop again and eat more food sat in the sun, this time courtesy of the 3 Peaks bike shop. There were loads of bikes around but no bikepackers, oddly. I felt a bit out of place as it's roadie central round here. One turned up and I couldn't help noticing her quads which were big enough to have made Chris Hoy run away crying. I guess it's the many hills hereabouts - if you do any distance you are going to grow a set of impressive climbing legs, and probably why so many pro roadies have come from Yorkshire and it's environs. Anyway enough of that, lets get up another mega climb, wishing my quads were that big.... 

Not that I needed them as I was single speed, therefore pushing....

The lovely moorland traverse of Gorbeck followed then more route rumination. Mastiles lane was the obvious choice but I've done it a few times in recent years and it would lead into the southern section of the YD300 route - all fine stuff but I got a view of Embsay Moor (last climb on the YD) and thought "there is no way I'm climbing that!" so instead took the byway / bridleway to Littondale. This is a fair old traverse with a few ups and downs but its another lovely trail with another high speed descent. As expected the clouds were starting to build, the slow beginning of yet another weather system entirely at odds with the forecast. At least I would no longer have to worry about sunburn. At Kettlewell I had to stop to eat a large amount of food and drink more beer. The menu indicated 'Sausage and onion roll' which I figured would be a good mid-afternoon snack to take me to Sedburgh where I would get a bigger meal. It turned out to be a large plateful of sausages, onion rings, and monster chips. Food and drink are cheap round here. Less than four quid a pint and this plateful was £9. Scotland is a rip off! There I've said it, but it's true. Eating this lot took a long time and removed any possibility of me doing the hideous climb up to Cam Head and a possible trail to Scar House Reservoir I'd not done before. 

Instead I twiddled up the road, ignored a couple of other huge climbs, and along to Cam (there are a lot of Cams hereabouts - he was a Roman) woodland and more route reversal back up the roman road, past my bivvy spot and down the Pennine Bridleway to Dent head. I checked out the wee hut, me, Bob and two others had kipped in in 2016 on the YD300. It had looked a bit dilapidated when I passed in the dark last year and sure enough, the roof is partially gone and its covered in sheep shit.... I screamed down the Dent road, no traffic at this hour, Sedburgh my destination. Which was a major disappointment. There was no Spar, Co-op or anything open apart from a posh hotel and one pub which looked busy. No chippy, no nowt! Bloody hell, now what. I had some food left (and actually quite a lot in my belly) so I just cracked on. 

Next up was a fine trail....

Up by the Howgill Fells. Plan A was the route right over them but I couldn't be arsed with another monster climb. So this trail was plan B but it's a beaut and very reminiscent of some of my local trails. Time was rolling on however and I was starting to feel a bit weary. Where the route crosses the burn coming out of Cautley Spout looked good for a pitch up but the wind was dropping and I was paranoid about having a midge fest. No I needed some height and a breeze. Oh what an idiot I am.

This came in the form of the Pennine Bridleway from it's end point and up the flanks of wild Boar Fell. This is in the middle of nowhere which is somewhat odd. In fact the whole of this route seems like a colossal white elephant. True it's opened up some great new trails but calling it a long distance route was a strange move given this end point at an A road well away from any civilisation. They threw a huge amount of money at it but it's clearly received no maintenance since the trails were done up back in 2006-8. By the fancy stress laminated arch bridge over the Ribble I'd crossed earlier, the trail was quite overgrown and clearly gets little use. A lot of it is now on the Great North Trail / GB Divide so bikepackers are using it but several sections are a bit obscure unless you are following your own route, like me! 

I figured there would be some good spots up the trail, well away from the farms at the bottom so hopefully no chance of an early morning visit by an irate farmer, given I would be breaking the law! And such a spot did appear - just below a bit of a limestone escarpment and so sheltered but hopefully drafty enough to keep insects at bay. It had properly clouded in so I figured I'd deploy my new DCF tarp. Up in jig time and into my bag, a few midges around. No whisky tonight but I'd been out for 14 hours (and done 90 miles!) so after reading a bit I turned in, eyelids drooping.

*Sigh*... I had actually nodded off when a large gust of wind made the tarp flap. DCF is like a crisp packet so it's a bit noisy. I got up to tighten guys and settled back in. But the wind got stronger and stronger (I was actually able to view a forecast as I had a signal - 8-9mph all night...) and the tarp flapped and cracked louder and louder. Sometimes it would press down against me as the wind dropped over the adjacent scarp, sometimes it looked like the tarp was about to take flight. It was now dark so getting going was not an option as I didn't have lights. I was cursing as I'd expected to have two really warm, still and dry nights out. I couldn't even drop the tarp as there was a bit of rain now in the forecast for first light. At 3am I gave up. It was starting to get light but I couldn't stand it any longer and I was worried I'd be about to lose my new and expensive tarp and pole on it's first outing. Then I had a sleep deprivation induced bad idea....

The worst tarp pitch in the world. Basically I pegged out all four corners at the tie points, pulled the two mid panel guys out to the bikes handlebars for a bit of lift, and used a large rock to lift the middle edge (i.e where I usually have the pole) then wriggled under it and back into the bag. The tarp was touching the bag but there was still enough breeze around me to hopefully minimise condensation. The best news was that the noise was much less and I dropped off soon after. 

That said, at 5.30 am I woke to even more wind and thought "To hell with this lets go" It was light so I packed up in jig time (all dry so actually this was a good idea and a top tip for you flat tarpists if the wind gets up), ate the last of my food (crisps and two snickers) and plodded up the last of the climb. Of course at the top was a large wall with a nice sheltered bit in it's lea. And on the fun descent a number of other sheltered spots presented themselves. This is becoming a habit....

Funky sculpture at the top of the big climb up Lady Anne Clifford's Highway.

This is a great trail and despite the spots of rain and cloud, my general feeling of wabbit-ness and annoyance at not using one of the many good bivvy spots I passed, I enjoyed the smooth grassy trail. But lo, what is this? A barn at the side of the trail. It's full of sheep. And sheep shit. But the wee shed next door isn't and has a stone floor. Out came the bivvy bag, off with shoes and in. Bang, out like a light for an hour and a half. I could have stayed longer but I didn't want the farmer to appear as it was now after eight. Off again and down the fast and little used descent to the road. Hawes again and it's spar shop but first, breakfast in the posh cafe at the bottom of the High Street. I'd have preferred the pennygarth cafe that all the bikers use as it's cheap. But, in keeping with the trip so far, it was shut. Still, I ate lots of fried things and a very large scone so that was alright. Spar provided a couple of snickers and a bottle of coke for the last few miles and climbs. 

Back along the road to Askrigg, with a strong tailwind, and then the YD300 route on the fine byway above the dale, the climb out of Bolton Castle and then the big tracks through Apedale and round into Swalwdale and a final precipitous blast down to Gunnerside and Reeth. As I was cruising along to Castle Bolton a chinook flew past and then 10 minutes later flew back, right over head. I wonder if they had forgotten something. The phrase "sitting duck" sprung to mind as these things are huge, and slow. I pity the poor buggers who have to fly in these monstrosities in this day of military hi-techery. Funnily enough one of those American things with the two big rotors on its wings which can pivot flew past the following day - it might as well as had "shoot me" and a target painted on it... You see a lot of this as Catterick Garrison is just up the road and various branches of the military (and the yanks by invitation) use it as a training area. Looking down at low flying harriers and getting waved at by the pilot, as you stood on a hillside, was a key feature of my childhood.

Anyway I was done. 275k and more climbing than I care to recall, some fab weather and some normal weather but bone dry trails and lots of good food and beer.

A nice TLS loadout given the climbing. It's kind of essential to keep the weight down, given the hills hereabouts. Touring on singlespeed might seem a bit arduous (two people made comments along these lines) but actually is was fine. I did push a lot and a couple of climbs I've previously treated as climbing challenges had to be walked but given the heat I was actually quite happy with that. 

So now what? Well a campsite first up. The place my parents had the caravan at had gone 'up market' and was full of bloody glamping pods and chalets but the dales has quite a number of low key farm run campsites which are cheap and cheerful. I had a leisurely drive up the dale and over the Buttertubs Road to Hardraw and hopefully a fine site. And it was - one largeish field, a basic but clean toilet / shower block and only £10 a night. Best of all, the Green Dragon Inn was practically next door! So up went the hexpeak (first trial outing) in the now blazing sun and I crashed out for a couple of hours before eating lots of food and heading next door for some fine ale.

Wednesday dawned cloudy but bright with sun in the offing. I was walking today on a route I'd first done with Dad many years before - up the Pennine Way to Great Shunner Fell then cut across to the buttertubs pass and up to Lovely Seat before descending back down via Stags fell. The path up to Great Shunner used to be horrendous with large peat hags and various attempts to sort it with rolls of chespale fencing laid over the marsh. I actually rode my bike over here, in the days when nobody really minded you cycling on a footpath, and it was hard work. Today it was a breeze as it's all stone flags over the swampy bits. There were people on the climb and summit so I marched past them, took in the fabulous views for a bit and then carried on.

The next bit was fine until I missed a turn along the boundary fence and ended up in a large area of bog and a substantial valley. Not what I remembered from the last time and hard going until I rejoined a good path. So much for my nav skills! Anyway the climb up to Lovely Seat was easy and I sat in the sun eating food for a long time watching the views.

View south and no-one else in evidence. The Dales are fairly benign landscape-wise, compared to, say, the Lakes but it's all very pleasant and makes for some fine walking. I descended to Staggs fell and the escarpments overlooking Hawes and sat in the sun again reminiscing on the many, many times we'd walked up here as a family and looked at this view. My Dad is probably past this walk now and Mum would struggle so we won't be up here as a family again. But it's why I'll keep returning to the Dales as they hold so many fine memories. And provide some great bike riding of course!

Speaking of which, that's what I did on Thursday. The forecast was a bit damp looking but in the event I set out under a cloudy but rain free sky with hints of sun around. My route was a slight variation on my classic dales circuit, done loads of times over the years. Pennine Way to Horton (again!) Foxup road to Littondale, over the big climb to upper Wharfdale and then more climbing up to Stake Moss and down to Semer Water, finishing with one more huge climb back up to the Cam road and then a fast descent to Burtesett. 

A fair bit of pushing took me to Cam fell but on the descent I took a turn off signed as a new Bridleway through Cam and Outershaw woodlands which looked like it would link up with the trail I'd passed the other day. It did and a fair few other bridleways were signed, all new.

Horton was blazed straight through and it was off up the long, long climb to the foot of Pennygent, much loved by 3 peaks CX riders. The plan had been to lunch at Hull Pot but a large gang of school kids were running around the place so I kept on the Foxup Road in search of a more tranquil spot. This trail has had a checkered history as it used to have vehicle rights. It was fine for many years until trail riding became mega popular in the '90's. then it rapidly turned into a horrible boggy, rutted mess. The NP did up one section in the early '00's and it lost it's vehicular rights in 2005. Since then it's recovered to a lovely grassy BW once more with some fun sections. At a suitable spot I stopped to eat lunch and laze around once more in the sun.

The descent was a hoot and the next climb not. Still, despite the cloud coming and going and a few spots of rain here and there it remained dry and the trails were bone dry....

I diverted to Buckden for fizzy drinks and ice cream before monster climb number 4 to Stake Moss. Down again at high speed, though Stalling Busk and across a river come track to Marsett. Spraying water over my feet was most pleasant!

Then one final road then BW climb back once again to the cam road and finishing a great day out down the stony track to Burtesett. After a pint in the sun in Hawes I returned to the campsite to find a bunch of DoE youths just arrived so dived into the shower quick, followed by food and many pints in the pub. 75k done and 2000m of climbing! 

The next day it was wet but I was homeward bound so for once I'd scored a week of good weather overall. Right, I'm off again tomorrow, this time north!

Midsummer Ride

Every year I try to do some kind of midsummer bike ride involving riding until last light and bivvying. This dates from my university days when the cycling club did an annual midsummer ride involving setting out from Edinburgh on a Friday evening and heading off in the direction the wind was blowing until we dropped, the train then taking us home again. This year I was working on the 21st which was a pity as if I'd gone out on the 21st/22nd I'd have been roasted. As it was I had to wait until the 24th, the nearest Friday to the solstice. Of course the weather for the Friday afternoon and evening was looking a bit dubious after the usual dry week. I was committed however as I was heading, once again, to my friends place on lower Speyside for a BBQ planned for the Saturday. Key to my decision making was another friend who would be driving up for some mountainbiking, so providing an opportunity for a lift home. Weatherwise, the good news was a southerly breeze to help me on my way with a possible shift to the east on the Saturday.

I'd (as usual) ruminated on various routes, including doing it in a oner starting early Saturday morning and bashing up the famously hilly A93 and A939 (around 125 miles.) But in the end I went with the Friday evening / Saturday morning plan in order to get another bivvy in. I'd wanted to go via Perthshire and the Spey valley as this would give easier hills for the singlespeed but the forecast suggested it would be much wetter this way - a repeat of the torrential showers of my last trip up north. So instead I trace a similar route that we'd used on a couple of occasions on those club midsummer rides - up the A93, including the Cairnwell pass which at 665m is the highest public road in Britain. This would get me to Deeside and lots of options to get to the Spey valley.

Straggler looking fairly svelte although with a few last minute wet weather additions to my kit.

It started well - after a sunny day spent shouting at the computer I got away just after 4 with the sun still shining. I'd plumped for an oft use route over the hills to Dunning and then various back roads skirting Perth to take me to the A93. As I summited the Dunning road behind me a wall of black cloud was building, however ahead all was blue and sunny.

Looking across the wide vale between the Ochills and the Perthshire hills, the Trossachs in the distance.

Meiklour Beech Hedge - possibly the tallest in the UK / Europe / World.

A short section of the A93 got me from here to Blairgowrie and an evening snack courtesy of the Co-op. This gave the clouds a chance to catch up and as I started the long, long climb to the Spittal of Glenshee, a few spots came in. I took a short section of the old road just out of Blairgowrie which is still accessible but getting somewhat overgrown. This bit was always a pain when driving up as there was a give and take over a Bailey Bridge installed to span a section that got washed out in the '80's and remained in use until they re-aligned the road about 12 years ago.

The whole of the A93 is something of an oddity in that various sections have been improved but much of it is still on the original line of Wades Road and somewhat hilly / bendy as a result. This dates from when it was a trunk road and so got sporadic funding for improvements with the intention for the whole lot to be done up. Of course it then got de-trunked and cash strapped Perth and Kinross Council will not be spending money on a road that takes people out of their area, so its unlikely to get any further improvements. Which is a good thing as it's a hoot on a motorbike of course but somewhat arduous to pedal up. Occasional sprinkles of rain persisted all the way up the road. That said it was warm and the wind made the cycling a breeze. The fab scenery helped - I'm usually motorised up here and tend to be focusing on the road rather than the view. On the two passes by bike with the Uni cycling club it was dark... By the time we got here in those days, the miles were telling and it always seemed like a drag, especially knowing that the monster Cairnwell pass was at the end of it. It's also a bit of a strange place in that their are quite a few properties scattered along the road, including an old primary school that only served the glen (now long closed) and two hotels, also long since closed, and lend the place an air of the land that time forgot. 

I'm always slightly bemused by this in that for all that Scotland seems to be a tourist Mecca, and this road a key way into one of the hot spots, as well as accessing Glenshee ski area, it's not possible to make a hotel viable. The tourism dilapidation theme continues as you reach the Spittal of Glenshee. There was a large hotel there for years. In it's latter days it was getting a bit run down until succumbing to the inevitable fire, so obviously an insurance job. I noted that a machine was parked up and a lot of the ruins have been cleared, so maybe someone is going to make a go at it again. In the eighties and nineties, hotels across Scotland seemed to decline into a state of unviability. This appeared to be due to being run by insouciant management, probably paid a pittance by an uncaring estate, driving people away and so eventually having to close. Ask anyone who travelled around Scotland during this period and they will all say the same - Scotland is great but the pubs and hotels are over priced dumps. I suspect that the landowners always resented the fact that their clientele had changed from rich Victorians up for the hunting and fishing to bourgeoisie tourists up for the hill walking and sight seeing.

Ironically in the last ten years, tourism has become massively popular and many hotels that were on their last legs have been turned around. So whilst pricy they are at least decent. I guess this is what is happening at the Spittal so it will be interesting to see what they come up with. Of course this was of no interest to me as I had a fine sheet of nylon to sleep under!

Climbing away from the Spittal the clouds receded and the crux was revealed: The Cairnwell.

It's one hell of a climb - others may be longer and / or steeper but this steady 10% grade over 2k, after 30k of steady climbing, has destroyed many a cyclist over the years. The sting in the tail is the last half a k where the gradient notches up to 12%. Again this seems trivial but after the effort so far it fair wrings you out, particularly on single speed. The tailwind blew me up to the start but the first section across the southern flank of the Cairnwell turned me into the wind until the road swung back north on the final pull. I figured I could walk it but managed to grind away at a steady 45rpm. The worst of it is that it's arrow straight and this makes the distance deceptive as it looks like only a couple of hundred meters at first, but just keeps giving. Passing the 12% gradient sign my pace slowed but I had the bit between the teeth by now. Again the distance is deceptive looking like a short hop to the summit but it's actually another 500m to go and takes a subjective age. 

Finally the gradient eased and I cruised down to the ski centre for a breather. Looking north there was much in the way of blue and red skies, hinting at the forecasted nice weather for the next day. Behind the sky was also clearing somewhat so my next thought was a bivvy spot. It was coming up to ten so progress had been good but I wasn't in for riding beyond nightfall and I fancied a decent kip. The woods of QE2's back garden would offer shelter but I was determined to avoid a repeat of my mozzie experiences of the last two bivvies so figured somewhere a bit more open would be a better bet. 

The cafe was shut of course but they leave the loo open which is mighty handy for passing bikepackers.

The descent was hammered with speeds in excess of 60kph and I cruised along the flats of the Clunie water figuring that if I stopped along here, I could get breakfast in Braemar. A lot of road side camping goes on around here so I was going to be fairly selective but, as predicted, the huge numbers of folk doing this during the pandemic have largely disappeared to foreign climes. There were a few camper vans but on turning off the A93 onto the backroad to Braemar there were only a couple of tents. I avoided these and headed off the road to a level area, ideal for my needs. Up with the tarp and in sharpish as the breeze was dropping. It was 10.15 so I'd been going for 6 hours, 125k done.

Well so much for the weather forecast, quelle surpise.... After sipping some whisky I turned in, only for a large rain shower to come through. These persisted over the next couple of hours so my sleep was interrupted and brief. At the beginnings of first light the rain eased but now the wind was on the rise - so much for the weather saying winds would be light and south easterly - this was brewing a south westerly gale! Then the rain came back on. 

Oh dear - much as I love tarp camping, I've always been careful to use a sheltered spot when wind or rain was incoming. Here I was on an exposed space in the middle of a glen that ran directly in line with the wind. I shuffled about to make sure my bivvy bag was in the most sheltered bit of the tarp and tried to ignore it. Sleep came and went but eventually, at 6.30, the now gale and heavy showers were too much. I munched some food, got dressed, got packed up and got out of there.

I'd actually remained dry, apart from some water that had splashed onto the bivvy bag from the tarp edges, and despite a fair bit of flapping, the tarp had remained in one piece. Best of all - no midges, no mozzies! Also, by the time I got going blue sky was breaking out ahead, it was warm and the wind would be behind me all day.

After a co-op breakfast, eaten in the Braemar visitor centre (actually an open shed that had I known was there would have been slept in!), I rolled out of town into clearing skies and hints of sunshine. I left the road at last for the fine track through the woods to Balmoral. Of course many bivvy spots were revealed and I suspect the wind would have kept the winged menaces at bay. Oh well....

Queenies Scottish pile

From Balmoral I left Deeside on another long and steady climb over to Glen Gairn. I hit 68kph on the descent. Could I break 80 before the days end? Before my next chance of this was another long, steady and singlespeed killing climb. But the gale behind me took the pain away and I whisked up it in good order. 

Grinning as I've got a massive descent to come

76kph was the best I could do before braking hard for the turn off to a nice section of Wades road that cuts a huge corner off the road.

A fine old bridge on Wades road. I paused here to snack and check out the views around. All much less dramatic than the Cairngorms to the west but apart from people whizzing along the A939 very much off the beaten track. There used to be an independent hostel along here that I stayed in with my then girlfriend in 2001. It's no longer advertised as such but seems to have a couple of wooden huts in it's garden that look like bunk rooms. No idea - it was run by an ageing hippy in 2001 and seemed to have links with Findhorn. A nice spot to be sure but likely a midge hell hole so maybe not as peaceful and tranquil as it's clientele would have liked

Rolling out back to the A939 I contemplated the Lecht Road that I could see climbing steeply out of the glen. There would be no way I'd get up this without a walk but the upside would be a chance to hit 100kph on the descent. The alternative was a fine through route to Inchrory lodge in Strath Avon and a fine run down to Tomintoul. No contest, I've done the Lecht road before (and hit 100kph) so off I went up the glen.

This is a very nice route. The first couple of miles are actually tarmac, accessing a couple of remote farms. After this it's a good track and fine for a gravel bike, in case you were wondering... The wind caught me a couple of times, funneled into my face by the twists and turns of the glen but as I dropped down to the lodge, and the mighty River Avon (a trickle!) it swung behind me and I barely pedaled all the way to Tomintoul and a fine late breakfast in the Fire Station cafe. A couple of roadies turned up just after I did, complaining of brutal headwinds on their ride up from Alford and over the Lecht. I eyed up there uber light aero bolides and we had some banter about our respective machines and routes. On learning I'd had tailwinds for most of my 190k ride they were less than pleased although I pointed out they would get a blaster of a wind behind them all the way back. I refrained from mentioning my lift home. Texting my friends to advise an eta I learned they were actually at the nearby trail centre and Iona wanted to ride back to their house on the road so we joined forces for one of the easiest 27k of my life - a steady downhill and a gale force tailwind!

The wind and sun dried the tarp in about a minute as I snoozed in their back garden, then we had a fine barby which ended a fabulous ride. 215k in total, most of which was with a tailwind. This will probably set me up for some terrible headwind karma, given my lift home. That said the weather was horrible heading down the A9 on the Sunday so I'm perfectly happy that I didn't have to battle through that!

Grampian Wanderings

You don't hear the name 'Grampians' much these days, people just tend to use the more generic Highlands; however the Grampians neatly describe the area I've just ridden my bike round covering the hills of Perthshire, the hills around the Ben Alder area and the Cairngorms. As usual for a holiday my plans had been fairly fluid to make the best of a typically variable weather forecast. A couple of days of wet weather were predicted for Monday and Tuesday, followed by (apparently) wall to wall Sunshine. Monday ended up being fairly dry, signaling the inevitable difference between the forecasted and actual weather. So of course on the Tuesday it looked to be much wetter. I held off for an afternoon departure from Dunkeld in the Tay strath as I wouldn't have far to go to a small shed in the woods I'd scoped out that would allow a dry and bug free sleep, whatever the weather did. My route took me up and over Griffin and Grandtully hill through forest and wind farm - a route I've done a few times before so easy to follow. As it happened I seemed to be surrounded by large black clouds but in a break with tradition, above me it was pretty clear and even sunny! 

I paused by Loch Kenard for a while noting the many fire sites and rubbish, this being only a mile from the road. It would make a good bivvy spot but only if you knew there was no-one else around i.e. just such a damp evening as was forecast. But it was too early for me and I needed food at Aberfeldy. After a fast descent I followed the narrow path alongside the silvery Tay (that river again) that was looking decidedly gray as the rain started. Aberfeldy was reached just as it got heavy, with monster clouds rapidly building. Fortunately a decent looking pub presented itself (the Fountain bar) just as the heavens opened. I grabbed an expensive but good beer - Schiehallion obviously! - and watched the rain increase to a full on deluge. So much for a dry night so I ordered food and then had another pint and checked out progress on the Highland Trail group start. I spent a pleasant 2hrs doing this, reflecting on my own progression round this route last year. From the reports it looked like they were getting much drier weather than I was...

Finally it dried up and the sky cleared. I figured on a fast getaway to try to get to my chosen bivvy spot before it clagged in again. The plan was to find the trail that I had failed to find on my July 2020 bivvy trip. I'd scoped it out properly and even put the route onto my GPS to ensure no repeat of the frustrating too-ing and fro-ing of my last visit here. Its actually fairly obvious and a good trail to ride down. I was going up of course and it was saturated thanks to the rain, but thanks to single speed I was pushing in any case. Finally I reached the forest track and reversed my route of two years previous.

Looking up to Loch Tay and the receding clouds. 

More incoming behind...

This lead me to the woods of Dull (they were) close to my bivvy spot of July 2020. That year I'd actually been making for tonight's destination - a tin shed in the woods - but missed the turn and on trying to get in from the other side just decided to bivvy on the track. On trying to find the hut the next morning the track had stopped me at a large swamp. This time I'd figured a better way via a forest track and a fire break. Of course I'd no idea if this track was any good or covered in wind blow; or if the route to the hut along the fire break was also blocked with fallen trees or a bog. I hoped the hut would be a fine shelter from the elements but it could easily be a dump, demolished or occupied by drunken neds. The last was extremely unlikely as the track through the forest pretty rough and with a large climb. But I was experiencing that feeling you get when your in a slightly dubious situation, with the potential for it all to go horribly wrong, that seems an intrinsic part of bikepacking. However things were looking up! (in a break with tradition) There were no fallen trees on the track and the fire break I had to descend was also tree free, had a quad track down it and whilst wet, not too boggy. Thank god for sturdy boots and gaiters! Then the hut was revealed.

Finding this place was a relief as the rain was just starting again.

It pre-dates the forestry and was clearly an old stalkers shelter as there was still gunracks in it and a couple of rough benches and a table.

Being objective it was a bit rough and ready but compared to pitching a tarp in the soggy grass at the mercy of the winged menaces, luxury. Having said that my wanderings around between showers revealed no midges, despite it being fairly mild, totally still and very damp. Odd. I sat reading by daylight then candlelight, glad of my whisky to keep out the chill. Eventually I rolled out my bivvy and had a reasonable kip. I was variously disturbed by the sound of rain on the tin roof, the creaks and cracks the corrugated iron made as it cooled and contracted and then was rudely awoken by an ear shattering dawn chorus (bloody cuckoos!) I was still feeling pretty bleary and it was only 4am plus it was quite cold too. Eventually I nodded off again and awoke after 8. Breakfast was leisurely as I contemplated my onward route options before packing up and departing into a bright day. That said there was plenty of big clouds around, somewhat at odds with what the forecast had stated the previous day. Sound familiar?

I followed the track out I'd failed to find two years previous. It was actually dead obvious so I must have been day-dreaming that day (which had been a long one to be fair) and the best way into this place should I ever need it again. I stopped to fire the phone up and check on the progress of the HT560 and text Bob to say where I was going. Bob and Cath were in the general vicinity (i.e the Grampians) and we had a very vague plan to meet up if our paths crossed. A longish bit of road riding down to and along Loch Rannoch took me to that classic traverse from Bridge of Gaur to Dalwhinnie via Ben Alder. Climbing up through the woods lead to a certain amount of introspection of my previous visit on last years Highland Trail, as well as idle curiosity as to how this years lot had got on with the next section, it being my favourite of the route. It was much colder back then and my body was about to object to the high pace I'd set leading to my spectacular bonk and near bale out. 

Looking ahead to a largely snow free Ben Alder, somewhat different to the winter wonderland this area was on my ski trip in March

Looking across to the West Highlands with Ben Cruachan in the far distance centre. It occurred to me that the fast folk on the Highland Trail would be passing through this area as I took in the view.

I was in no such rush so the boat house veranda at the end of Loch Ericht provided a fine lunch stop whilst a light sprinkle of rain came through. This persisted to the boggy approach to the cottage, which was very boggy, not helped by the passage of 70 bikes four days previous. I guess I've been lucky through here the last few times as it's been pretty dry above and below. 

Ben Alder Cottage. As I took this pic a woman came out and we chatted a bit about our routes. It seemed far to early to stop and she looked like she was for chatting but I had a ways to go to get within a reasonably easy ride of Rob and Iona's the next day. So it was off up and away up the singletrack climb 

Looking back down the fab trail to Loch Ericht and the Perthshire hills behind. No energy issues this time round, in fact I rode a fair old bit of the climb.

The descent was the usual blast and lo and behold, I passed a chap doing some work on the trail a few miles up from Culra. Whilst Ben Alder Estate is stinking rich, they do carry out regular maintenance of this path, solely at their own expense. I'm not aware of any other mountain path in Scotland that gets anything but token maintenance, mores the pity. Mind you he gave me a funny look so I wonder if they are aware of the Highland Trail coming through. The steeper part of the descent is getting a bit loose these days and it's down to this routes growing popularity with bikepackers.

Rolling along loch Ericht, the sky was starting to clear considerably with a light breeze to keep me cool. Dalwhinnie garage provided food eaten whilst sat out in the sun.

Local wildlife

Now what? I knew of a few bothies and huts hereabouts but getting up into the woods of Inshriach or the Baden would make for an easy day tomorrow. There was plenty of daylight and for once I was riding in pleasant evening sunshine. So off we go. I went up to loch Cuaich and a good track over to Phones Lodge. I noted its been done up over the climb but the bit by the loch is still a nice basic landrover track. I think I need to start a campaign to preserve these as they are getting thin on the ground thanks to windfarms, power stations and stalking access needed for cars rather than argocats, leading to most estate roads being motorway standard.

This odd sculpture is on a low hill overlooking this little used track but not much else - its a large arrow stuck into the ground. I've no idea what this signifies and there was no sign to explain. I've since done some web searching and drawn a total blank - very strange...

That all said from Phones lodge you end up on a corker of a track. The old military road is a nice set of parallel lines through the heather and for the most part good going. As with all such tracks there are a few soggy bits but this is all part of the fun.

I'd an idea to stop at Luibleathan bothy but a curl of smoke out of the chimney put me off. It might have been fine or it might have been idiots in residence but I was keen to get a few more miles in, in any case. So I cracked on, on this fine track, the Kingussie chippy my destination. After a fine fish tea (and a beer, drank whilst sat on a park bench, it's come to this!) I headed back aways and into the forest above Drumguish, on the Cairngorms loop route. There are a few bothies around Newtonmore but this would be in the wrong direction now. Jack Drakes hut in Inshriach was another option but it's pretty well known and likely to be occupied. Instead I headed for a spot I'd passed a few times and figured would be a good 'un. It was - a bit grassy and tussocky but I found a reasonably level bit and pitched up. Again there was not a midge to be seen so I figured on a fine night. Then the mozzies appeared. Oh for f**** sake, not again! There were only a few and fortuitously I had head net, smidge and my nano mesh mozzy tent thing so after a lot of faffing and running around I got installed into the bivvy eventually. Then the rain came on....

The sky had completely cleared by the time I'd started to pitch up but suddenly clouds rolled in from the east and a light rain started. I read and drank the other two beers I'd bought and then got my head down. The rain kept on and off for a few hours eventually clearing out at about 3 am. I knew this as uncharacteristically, I couldn't get to sleep. The rain didn't help, or the incessant buzzing of the mozzies, plus my bladder drove me up and out three times, requiring a large amount of finesse (faffing) to get out of the bivvy, out of the mesh screen, into boots and jacket and then reverse. Finally when the sky cleared, a snipe appeared with its siren warble which seemed to calm me and sleep followed.

A clear dawn is always a good thing. I packed up in double quick time but fathomed that the nearby track was mozzie free thanks to a bit of a breeze (it wasn't and I got stung several times) so made and ate breakfast and contemplated my onward moves. Given the improving weather it occurred to me to do another night out and head to my pals place in lower Speyside the next day. But to be honest the thought of another night getting savaged by those sodding buzzing, flying, stinging things was far down my list of wants. So a quick text to let them know I would be there mid afternoon and off I went on the fine route up through Inshriach forest, Rothiemurchus and Glenmore. I noted two tents outside Jack Drakes Bothy so this would have been of little use to me - hey ho. I had a proper breakfast of fried things at the cafe and hammered Ryvoan pass in the now warm sunshine. Of course this meant I had to stop at Nethy Bridge to lie around on the grass eating ice cream and pies (in that order) Further rumination suggested I should give the Speyside way a go to just past Grantown. As advertised there were multiple gates but most are new self-closers, two were being held open by a school group out on bikes and the remaining old style walker gates had field gates next to them which were unlocked and open enough to squeeze through. A bit of nosing got me on a trail at Cromdale bridge to miss some more road out and I finished with a leisurely twiddle down the road to Blacksboat.

Lazing around followed but rain swept in which kyboshed Barby plans (this was entirely un-forecasted, even whilst it was happening!) Just as well I wasn't sleeping out as I'd have likely had a colossal sense of humour failure. The next day finally looked like it was going to be a roaster so.... I lazed around all day chatting (we did go for a brief bike ride) and we finally got our BBQ in the late afternoon.

So homeward bound at last. I'd various ideas to extend my route and throw in another bivvy but I actually fancied getting back to Dunkeld in a oner as it's a great route - back road to Tomintoul then the Cairngorms Tour route to Blair Atholl, fun riverside path to Pitlochry, finishing with back roads and cycleway of NCN7/78. It's also 90 miles but that seemed a fine way to end a good trip and would allow me a lazy Sunday to recover. As it happens this was a fortuitous decision...

And it was sociable. Tomintoul seems to be bikepacking central these days. A chap was just leaving as I arrived and 6 more turned up as I ate an early lunch on the village green. Heading up the glen, after fighting my way past a large family group on bikes with two dogs (which were wholly out of control, thank god for 29+,) I slowly reeled in the chap who had left Tomintoul as I arrived. This turned out to be Steve who was on the Bearbones forum and recognised me (well my bike anyway), doing the full Cairngorms Loop. We chatted for a while and he tapped me for some route info until my antisocial singlespeed cadence took me away up the climb out of Glen Builg. The sun was blazing....

Loch Builg looking across to my March Bivvy spot

Ben Avon - similar sky to March but snow largely gone - I think we are heading for an entirely snow free Scotland this Summer

Heading out past Linn of Dee presented a stiff headwind (I passed a further two bikepackers along here) which was somewhat at odds with the gentle easterly breeze forecasted. After an easy and dab free crossing of the Geldie I paused at the ruins of Bynack Lodge for a late lunch - I actually took the trouble to boil water and do a freeze dried meal and coffee, sat in the cool shade of a Scots pine looking at the fine view.

On the singletrack descent I met another ascending bikepacker who is also a Bearbones forum poster. Again we chatted for a bit about our respective routes before I headed off on the fab descent (again!) This was much easier than in 2020 so me and the Jones have put that experience to rest. Another guy on a Genesis longitude was filling his bottles at the burn by the path end and rolling out to Bridge of Tilt I came upon a guy wearing a BB jersey who with his partner had just done the Cairngorms tour. Bikepacking central indeed!

So much for my excellent Lake winter boots. I'd gone with these in view of the weather and the terrain and they'd been ace. They are so much more comfy than the Shimano MT91's / XM9's and despite being advertised as good down to -10 are in fact fine for plus 15 and only a bit warm at plus 20. I'd finally found my perfect cycling footwear. Except on leaving the Blair Atholl Spar shop I became aware of something catching as I walked. Both soles were coming adrift and flapping uselessly about. Most annoying and it had only just happened as they had been fine on the various scrambles across side burns on the Tilt descent. Just as well I didn't opt for a longer route as I'd have had to bodge them. I'll send them back for a replacement or repair and hope these are just a Friday afternoon special.

Anyway I had around 25 miles to do in the warm evening sunshine. After a bit of old road I picked up the riverside path from Killiekrankie to Pitlochry. This was a hoot as it was ped (and dog) free so I could let rip with impunity. The final easy miles down the road to Dunkeld provided a great way to reflect on and finish up a fine few days.

Logierait Bridge on NCN 7 - private but publicly accessible.

A fairly light load out this week although I really should have gone with the deschutes and mesh inner as this would have allowed a much nicer sleep on Wednesday. It will be midge world until September at least now so this will be my go to for the summer bivvies.

Adventure Commuting

A chap on the Bear Bones forum recently announced he'd done an 85 mile commute to an agency nursing job, only turning up a few minutes late for his shift. On the face of it this sounds a bit optimistic but if you considered driving (or training or bussing) 85 miles to a job the chances of arriving at a specific time would be very slim. Traffic, broken down trains, cancelled services etc. etc. could stop you in your tracks. If you commute on a bike however, journey time is easily planned and it's reliability will be pretty much guaranteed. So whilst a non-cyclist (or even a fairly keen cyclist) would be appalled by such an undertaking, in reality it's actually a pretty sensible option. Not only that, it will be fun, enlightening and add substantially to your weekly mileage quota, so what's not to like.

My own bike commuting hasn't been anywhere near that distance in one outing, although timewise I've come close, thanks to a large amount of snow between my office and home on one occasion. I've commuted by bike for a lot of my adult life, either for all or part of the journey between house and office. Two jobs have prevented me for various reasons, leading to massive frustration. You tell yourself you'll get out for a ride when you get home but inevitably a late finish or crap weather leads to the couch magnet doing its work and welding your (increasingly fat) backside to its warm embrace.

For many years I've taken the shortest route between home and work to minimise the time it takes. However since getting into doing the long distance stuff, the need to get the miles in has lead to me add in extra distance to the commute. This has taken me over hills, through forests, down dales, through bogs, puddles, rivers and (of course) vast amounts of snow. So this piece is dedicated to turning a boring journey to or from work into an adventure. Yes that oft used (and oft hated) term which in my case is fair, given that on more than one occasion there has been a very real possibility I'd disappear somewhere en-route...

It all started when I got a job with Fife Council working at Lochore Meadows. I was living in Edinburgh at the time, just next to South Gyle Station. Having spent the previous two years driving to Alloa and back this represented an opportunity to use the bike for at least some of my journeys to work and a refreshing change. I settled for getting the train out and riding home - some 25 miles. A mate sold me his old MBK road bike which was ideal for this. When it's frame rusted through (on just such a commute) my mate Derek turned up an old Peugeot Tri frame which served until I actually bought a brand new road bike, the start of my roadie love affair. My miles and fitness soared, plus you were out in all weather, at all times of year so I refined kit and got better at judging what I needed to wear. Plus it was the first time I was doing bike rides going full gas for the whole journey. Why? well you were going home of course! A house move to Fife removed the need for the train and added some forest trails into the mix. Suddenly, my commute could be a mountainbike ride.

My next job lead to a gap in commuting as noted but a return to Fife Council meant the long distance commute was back on - 17 miles each way. This was when I started doing off road options as the roads weren't that great. Then an office move to Glenrothes lead to a period of crazy road riding.

My route was now 20 miles dead and I became fixated on doing it in an hour, or less. 52 minutes was my fastest time on breezy days but this was leading to increasingly dubious moves to get through traffic which even on rural roads tended to get in your way. Give ways in particular could be a cause of crucial delays so timing moves through them was critical, as well as the need to stay ahead of glaikit car drivers who seemed determined to stop at every available opportunity. Worst was the final roundabout from one dual carriageway across another, which was busy, being the A92. The best way to do it was to keep your speed up and merge with flowing traffic. Drivers in Fife aren't used to cyclists filtering so this lead to a certain amount of consternation. Not only that but work colleagues were also using this junction and a not a few commented about the suddenness and speed I was appearing in front of them. I finally got my time to below 50 minutes (48 actually!) but realised this nonsense was only going to go one way. So the road bike was ditched and I started using the train to get (most of the way) in. Going home could then be done by means of various routes with varying amounts of off road and little in the way of busy roads. My favourite took me round the outskirts of Glenrothes, and then across the Lomond hills, finishing with the quiet back road from Cleish. This was around 30-35 miles and took me between 2 1/2 to 3 1/2 hrs depending on weather, wind and time of year.

Looking across Loch Leven and the Cleish Hills in the Westering sun of the endless summer that was 2014. Most commuter shots show some hard bitten cyclist fighting their way through rush hour traffic. I hope this inspires people to find a better way home from the daily grind.

Sometimes I use the train back as far as Lochgelly and then head home by the country park and various woods. I generally only do it twice a week, or three at the most but this adds 4-8 hrs of riding into my weekly routine, and via some ace trails instead of a dull road ride. It's harder in the winter of course but whilst hoards of cyclists retreated to their turbo trainers, I'll be riding the hills on my way home from work giving me valuable training miles, speeding up my pre-ride prep (have to when you are tying in with train timetables) and refining my clothing choices. I vary my route depending on the weather and trail conditions and I figured out a couple of low level routes, including the coastal path, for when the hills are too wild. Other variations are used for dry or wet weather. If it's particularly bad I'll train it back to Dunfermline and do a ride round the West Fife and Clacks cycle and back road networks. 

Of course my work colleagues think I'm mad for doing this but compared to my normal rides, such commuting is straightforward and huge fun. The good days are when the wind is in the east and the sun beating down. Various trail improvements and route refinements meant my route has used less and less road over the years. My best effort covers 5 significant hills - East Lomond, West Lomond, Bishop Hill, Benarty Hill and Blair Adam. In fact I can add a 6th - Ben Glow in the Cleish hills although this needs some interesting route finding through fire breaks. What better way to finish the day with a fab mountainbike ride home, when everyone else is having their tea, trails are empty, the sun shining and the wind helping you on your way.

Singletrack commute

It's not always like that. Brutal headwinds, un-forecasted rain, unusually muddy trails and floods all have been encountered...

One particular ride springs to mind. This was Autumn 2017 after another below average summer. I was on the Fargo and planned to use my low level route home as the hills were likely to be a bit bleak, given the weather. I'd used this route in the January of that year on the newly built Jones. Bizarrely, I'd finished the ride with barely a spec of mud on the bike, the first of several similar rides during two weeks of unseasonably dry and mild weather. This day it was anything but. The first challenge was the narrow trail alongside the river Ore. I noticed the river looked a bit high so it wasn't a huge surprise when the trail disappeared into it. Of course I kept going thinking it would be short lived; and of course it wasn't. So wet feet and a near drowning later (slight exaggeration) I got through thinking my remaining route would be OK, being generally on made paths. Oh dear, forestry work had been going on in the woods near Cardenden and the neat singletrack was like a ploughed field. I ploughed on (it was pitch dark at this point and it didn't look too bad) only for the bike to grind to a halt as mud had totally blocked the wheels into the mudguards. I managed to clear it and eventually pick my way through. But it got worse. A section of farm track was covered with a thin layer of slurry-like water and grit. This is my least favourite kind of mud as it seems to spray everywhere. Then on the trail down the hill to Lochore Meadows I became aware of orange flashing beacons and spot lights ahead. This turned out to be a hedge cutting tractor working on the path ahead. Quite what it was doing out at 7pm on a dark Wednesday is anyone's guess but it had thoroughly churned up the path and spread thorns everywhere. On I went and when I got to the road and streetlights I surveyed the damage. The bike looked like someone had hosed it down with mud and I wasn't much better. No alternative but to keep going, waiting for the inevitable puncture from the thorns. I made it home in the event, the front tyre just starting to go soft as I rolled up the village main street.

But the winter lead to the biggest adventures. It started in 2011 when the bike seemed to the best way to make progress given the huge volume of snow clogging up the road network. Car drivers thought I was mad by the looks they gave me but I had the last laugh when they got stuck and I kept going. That year also highlighted the disadvantages of living at 140m above sea level. I'd leave a cold and snowy Dunfermline, and head west along the cycleway. But on the climb up the hill to home, the weather would get worse and worse. On the last section you were in full on winter mountain weather - blizzard conditions and brutal wind chill. Home and a hot shower was only a mile away so this was hilarious but I didn't particularly want to be the first person to die in a snow drift in West Fife....

Not the usual bike you see on a morning train...

When I got my fat bike this all became even more fun. Winter 2018 was the one with several periods of heavy snow. I've written about this before elsewhere. Suddenly there was no choice (well I could have skied) as cars were going nowhere. A fatbike is generally unstoppable in lowland snow conditions but I did test that theory to it's limits. Again work colleagues thought I was mad but I had the last laugh as their cars were buried and they were house bound. Funnily enough when I was in Finland the next year, the snow conditions were comparatively benign...

Freshies on the way home!

Wild weather on the way to work

Not my best look - after 4 hours of blizzard and headwinds

Not so nice - dark, wet and snowy...

The pandemic scuppered commuting obviously but finishing up in my home office, throwing my gear on and going for a blast round the dusty trails locally was a fine way to end the working day. As office working re-commenced I soon got back to my old ways however. I'd used the gravel bike a few times on various commutes and soon started throwing in some longer rides into the way home when I'd brought the Straggler in.

I did one the other day - a fine gravel trip home after a mixed ride / train ride in. Annoyingly, Scotrail have changed the timetable so I have to get up even earlier, and it looks like more changes are coming thanks to the Government's balls up of taking over the company. In fact I often joke I'm on the Scotrail cycling training programme. The way it works is that if Scotrail think you aren't doing enough miles, they cancel a train so you have to ride all the way in (or home), thus adding valuable extra training time. Maybe not but it did seem that cancelled trains always coincided with me deciding to take the easy option....

So I got in early and therefore obviously left early to cash in on the sunshine. I'd used the route last summer so no need for any nav. There is one busy bit up and over to the Markinch cycleway and then back roads, some cycleway and easy trails are the order of the day. A stiff breeze was blowing but across the Howe of Fife its pleasant, flat farmland with hedges and trees to shelter you from the worst of it. A reasonable road climb took me up to my route of last Saturday but I kept on up the hill to do a full traverse of Pitmedden Forest. The forest was devoid of other people, it being tea time across the nation. My stomach was rumbling a bit but it would have to wait. 

I picked up a hitch-hiker when I did this route last summer!

He seemed remarkably reluctant to let go. I could feel his claws digging into my finger!

From the forest I followed my usual route of back roads and an odd bit of trail home. The clouds had come in as it happened and I even got a spot of rain, but the last few miles were done in the westering sun. Total distance for the whole day was nigh on 60 miles. I got home at just after 8pm and relaxed in the warm glow of self righteousness that all cycle commuters feel. Not because I was single handedly saving the planet but because I'd just fried about 2000 calories over an above my 'normal' day load so could tuck into lots of food and cake, knowing I would still be behind my bodies energy demand as it recovered from the effort of a fine ride home.