April BAM

Not much to report on this one, I did another backyard bivvy made slightly more challenging by my ongoing lawn extension program getting in the way of my pitch. I'd been out for my daily ride earlier so made do with a mandatory lap of the garden pre-pitch up. I guess I could have loaded up for my ride but it would look a mite suspicious disappearing off into the woods with bags on. Hey ho.....

I did at least make the effort to load up properly - actually my typical overnight loadout, pint pot excepted (I've had good results decanting a bottle of beer into a 500ml nalgene bottle) and pretty TLS if I may say.

This is about as technical as it gets. Soon all this will be grass.

The pitch. Normally I'd use the bike instead of the barrow but I'm not about to leave my beloved Jones lying outside overnight, even in this relatively crime free neighbourhood! This is my first night out under a flat tarp. I tried one a couple of years ago but was trying to use it with various bike bits instead of poles, which was too faffy for my liking. Enlightenment came in the use of a pole (the same one I use for the Deschutes) and proper guys and pegs. Even with that it knocks just over 100g's off my deschutes / lightweight bivvy bag combo. It also takes up a lot less space. It won't be quite as weather proof, particularly against wind and rain but it should be more versatile in restricted pitches and woodland. Interestingly this combo is less than 100g's heavier than my Rab ascent bivvy bag and a lot more useful.... 

I think the trick is to work out one standard pitch and use it all the time so you get quick at it. Presence of trees, fences and walls enable variations. So I'll give it a go for real once we get out of this carry on. I've a faint hope that I might manage a proper bivvy at the end of next month looking at what the news up here is saying. I'll probably bag another BYB mid month just in case although I'm running out of ideas for themes!

The Winter

I wouldn't typically write about the kind of things I've been up to in the first two and a half months of this year as they aren't that exciting really, in the grand scheme of things. However given the current situation and the fact that I'm not going to be doing any kind of riding worth writing about for a considerable period of time, and given that I have a lot of time on my hands, I thought I'd put pen to paper.

After my fabulous ride across the Cairngorm Plateau on Hogmanay I had a feeling that this would be the start of a fabulous winter. Hmmm. In hindsight this was somewhat optimistic however we got there eventually. After a couple of good rides with friends after bringing in the new year I headed home wondering what was in store.

Lots of wind and rain as it happens. The trails were saturated and every time I ventured out I ended up like a drowned rat. I had one good ride up the Ochills on one of my usual circuits with a hint of snow which developed over that week but by the time the next weekend came it had all gone and the rain returned. Another respite enabled my January BAM and then the rain returned again.

A dark January night commuting home in some rare snow. It was very wet....

February came with little change. I'd booked a couple of days off work for a long weekend including my birthday. The plan had been to decant to the Highlands for some skiing and biking as well as my Feb BAM. Yet another storm was due to come through which canned that idea. I got the BAM anyway in local woods and got home before the weather kicked off. 

Then the day after it finally looked like it was going in the right direction. The heavy rain turned to snow above 500m and came down heavily. Monday looked like it was going to be more of the same but on a gale force westerly wind. Going north would be pointless so I took a chance on walking up my local hills (the Ochills) to see if there was any snow worthy of a repeat visit on the skis the next day. This day started bright but breezy. Climbing above around 350m I hit the snow line. The wind suddenly ramped up and so began a battle of wind, blizzard and spin drift. I made it up to the summit of Ben Cleuch but this was far enough. I'd dressed accordingly but the wind chill was brutal. 

The good news was snow, lots and lots of snow. Tuesday looked like it would be brighter and less breezy so a plan was hatched.

Walking up from the Castle Campbell car park above Dollar, skis strapped to my back, hinted that less windy still meant 'gale force.' Oh well at least the sun was shining. In fact things went well as the winds had blown a large amount of snow off the plateau and into the shallow valley you traverse above Castle Campbell. So the skis went on after only a mile and up we went. Again the blizzards came and went and great plumes of spin-drift off the summits in the rare bright spells told a different story to the weather forecast.

So it proved as on passing 500m I was once again engaged in a battle to stay upright. Leeward slopes had caught vast amounts of snow and even windward slopes were ski-able as its all grass up here so you can slide over it without fear of damaging bases. After struggling west past Whitewisp hill, I eventually ground my way up to Tarmangie and looked west to Ben Cleuch. It seemed to be miles away and despite having done this traverse on a couple of occasions in the fab winter of 2018, it seemed far to far today. I satisfied myself with a descent then a lap of Skythorn hill catching a few big fields of snow on the way. Then back up the way I came and off the end of Tarmangie down a great patch of snow which took me to my ubiquitous Sitka Spruce tree that I'd bivvied under in January. Despite providing a reasonable amount of shelter I didn't linger long - just enough time to eat much needed food and drink my tea - before departing, the fierce wind propelling me along without effort. Better still, thanks to the wind, I was able to ski further down than I walked up, almost back to the car.

The following weekend saw yet more wind and rain, although it was clear that high ground was getting even more snow. All we needed was the weather to enjoy it! Two very wet bike rides were done, one taking me east and back by the recently opened Pilgrims way that I'd followed east on my August bivvy last year. By the time I'd finished the water was pouring out of my pants.....

A week later and finally the weather looked better. I decided to do a bit of a ski recce on the skinny skis and if things looked good, would return on the big skis the next day. I pretty much repeated my tour of a fortnight previously however more walking up and down was required, due to to the fluctuating temps having wiped out the lower level snow. The wind was still pretty fierce however and patches of sun brief between more cloud, blizzards and spin drift. This was becoming monotonous.... 

On a whim I descended off the leeward side of Whitewisp hill to see if, as I hoped, the snow had got blown into this wide area with plenty of shelter and a couple of burn lines. Sure enough as I picked my way down through the heather patches (true Scottish skiing!), a vast snow slope down to the confluence of two burns was revealed. I skied down a ways then exited out, the snow so deep I was able to ski across three fences, one a deer fence.

So the next day I was up there again, but this time on the big skis. It does surprise me the looks people give you when you strap a pair of skis to your bag, in somewhere like the Ochills. People totally underestimate these hills given that they are just rolling bumps rather than the jaggy real mountains of further north. But there is a large amount of terrain above 500m and this is a different world when you get weather like we'd had. Sure enough above 500m it all went white. I'd thought of heading along to see what the leeward slopes of Kingseat were like. There was some rather drastic lines down various gulleys but its all steep. I'd no intention of being the first person to be killed in an avalanche in the Ochills so gave them a miss. Instead I retraced my way back to where I'd been the previous day and hit the big slope I'd found. Wow. It was all firm windslab but you can get a good edge in so many turns followed. Lower down it was softening in the sun but that didn't stop me doing it six times.

Pow day in the Ochills - having this within a few miles of where I live is a good thing.

Finally I traversed back across the south eastern flanks of Whitewisp searching out a filled in burn line I'd spied on the way up. I picked this up at its top and put in a final dozen turns down to where it ran out into the grass. Twenty minutes walk saw me back at the car, several low level dog walkers looking at my skis and bright orange boots in total confusion. One local chap asked me what it was like and it turned out he was well familiar with these hills and their weather so knew where I'd been and was un-surprised at the snow volumes.

So March came along and spring beckoned. But winter was now in full swing. Snow levels were building day by day at the five Scottish ski centres. I'd grabbed a day at Glenshee and on a hot tip skinned out of Tom Dearg into Coire Fionn. This is part of the area but closed this day as the links were wind scoured and bare. There followed two runs in the best Scottish powder I'd every skied. About a foot of fresh over a firm base in blazing sunshine.

Coire Fionn and Glas Maol.

By now the crisis was looming. I'd been stressing about flying abroad so when the ski holiday was canned, at the 11th hour, I was relieved. That weekend the weather didn't look great so the bike was dragged out with a view to seeing if a further Ochills ski trip was justified. This turned into a typically brutal fat bike on wet snow and windslab day leaving me wrecked by the end of it. A poor forecast for the Sunday meant a low level route was in order. We were making plans for the week and Scotland look like the place to be - in fact it was then the only place in Europe where lift served skiing was available. We took full advantage of this with a day at Glenshee, two ace days at Glencoe and three nights away, the Clachaig providing our final pub served beer for what now looks like months to come. We felt redeemed for our missed holiday but the future looked black.

Alpine Ski conditions in Scotland

Rare to see Ben Nevis in winter, particularly this one!

Coire Adair leading into Creag Meaghaid

Coming back from our trip north revealed a stunning winter vista. I felt an overpowering urge to head back the next day with skis in order to experience what would be truly awesome conditions. But the message was out - stay away, as you might not get rescued if it goes wrong. I wrestled with my conscience but common sense prevailed. Skiing mountains alone, even in these weather conditions was too risky. Plus I couldn't be bothered with another drive north. A trip south was considered then discounted so the local hills beckoned once more. The temps had risen and the big patches I'd skied in previous weeks were now shrunken beyond what was worth dragging a pair of skis up for. Not so for a fat bike and I spent several hours hunting out and joining up patches of iron hard snow. 

The next day was sunnier still and I felt the exploration bug. Time was running out for long rides and I knew I had to get as many in as I could before the inevitable happened. My route took me east and north on various wee roads and then up into the hills above Milnathort. These too are technically still Ochills but are around half the height of the main area above Clackmannashire. They are also extensively forested and it was into the woods I headed after the steady climb out of Dalquiech. I've had a few goes at tracing routes across these hills. There are various forest tracks and a few paths to boot but so far my trips had involved a lot of fighting my way through clear fell and windblow. There is a core path route through further north but this is a bit rubbish. On a hunch I followed a large track west which went beyond what was marked on the map and looked like it might lead to a ride which would link into another track.

Wa-hey, at the track end there was a vague but identifiable path up a steep climb between new planting and an established forest. This continued to a low ridge and turned west right up to the track. I went off route to sit in the sun eating lunch before descending quickly down to Dunning Glen. Down the road aways is Glen Devon forest, I headed in and spent an hour or so tracing tracks and finding a few further bits of single-track. Bivvy spots were appearing thick and fast on this ride and plans were being hatched for the coming weeks. If only I knew what was coming.....

Looking north east across north Fife and Angus to the Glen Shee hills

This is my personal ski slope of three weeks previous, now much reduced in size.

I dropped down to Glen Devon itself and then traced a final loop into Glen Quey, over to Common edge hill and finally a long descent back to the road above Dollar. Following my usual mix of back roads and trails home felt that I was coming to the end of things. I still hoped that the next weekend would enable further expeditions but a premonition that this would not be loomed in my mind.

Monday 23rd of March, 9.30pm. The lockdown started.

March Bivvy

This one didn't quite go according to plan....

The plan, such as it was, was to head out on the last weekend in March - basically depart the house on Friday evening after work and head north-ish, returning by the Sunday evening. This was premised on being away every other weekend in March. The long range forecast looked promising and it was all looking good.

The ski holiday I'd meant to be going on the previous week was the first thing to fall by the wayside. A relief really as getting stranded abroad (or confined to a hotel for a week) is my idea of hell, not holiday. So in fact I could have done the bivvy sooner, and in hindsight should have. Me and two friends substituted Austrian Skiing for Scottish Skiing for a few days and managed a final pub night before the restrictions started coming in earnest. I still could have grabbed a night out that final weekend but I was toying with heading south to visit parents and by the time it was clear this would be a bad idea it was too late to get out. Then came the lockdown.....

Like everyone else whose into disappearing into the wilderness I had plenty of thoughts and options to get a proper bivvy done but it didn't feel right. Like as not if I did head out I'd be so worried I'd not sleep and end up having a crap time. I hemmed and hawed but then Stuart on the Bearbones forum changed the BAM rules given the emergency. Back gardens were in. The bivvy was on.

I decided to do it properly. The Ice Cream Truck was dragged out, bags strapped on and stuff put in bags. It was due to be a cold one - around zero - so in went the winter bag and the soto muka stove. Also in were a few beers and food for the night.



My 'departure' was timed for last light. For forms sake I did a lap of the garden (front and back) and then pitched up in a nice sheltered spot (on my back lawn next to one of my sheds)


Tricky rock section thanks to some earlier gardening

Must cut the grass next week

Apart from a vague concern that this would confirm to my neighbours that I was bonkers, it felt right. In fact it was a laugh. I tried a different method of putting up the deschutes which avoided laying it on the grass (if its raining this immediately gets the inside of the tarp wet - not ideal when you then get in yourself), laid out the bivvy bag, got into my PJ's and into my bag. It was only 8pm but what the hey, I had nothing else on. So I heated up a couple of boil in the bag meals, had a few beers, read my book and listened to the night sounds. Living in a small village surrounded by countryside means this is a rewarding pastime - owls, distant far animals and passing cars (oh well can't have everything)



Tea up!

I eventually turned in and....went out like a light. I'd not slept well all week, largely down to various worries indirectly relating to the crisis, and had visions of lying awake for a few hours before giving up in disgust. In the event the next thing I knew it was dawn accompanied by a cacophany of singing birds. I've never experienced anything quite like it. My many bivvies of 2018 and the few I've done since all seemed to be in places away from your typical small bird habitats so the dawn chorus had been a fairly muted affair. Normally at home I have two layers of glass and walls between me and the birds so it rarely wakes me. What a joy. It went on for around 15 minutes and then I nodded off again. The next thing it was 9am and time for breakfast (technically 8am as the clocks had jumped forward). I had a cuppa then packed up and after one more lap of the back garden headed in for breakfast proper.

Morning view

So - my shortest ever ride to a bivvy but it was worth it. It got me out of the house - even if it was only by 12 feet. I got some valuable kit-sorting and tarp erecting time and it felt like an entirely appropriate thing to do.

Looking at the current situation its clear my April bivvy is also going to be in the back garden and unless there is a radical improvement in the crisis May's as well. Not what I'd thought when I started my 2020 BAM campaign but if there is one thing I've learned in this life you never take anything for granted. So I'll be back with another backyard bivvy soon enough but I'll be staring into the future for when we get back on track.

February Bivvy

As I departed work on the motorcycle, it was still chilly. Not the misty frosty cold of the morning but definitely colder than what had been forecast. My plan was to grab my Feb bivvy that evening ahead of the apocalyptic storm that was forecasted for Saturday evening / Sunday. As usual I was deliberating over kit choices and which bag to take, as well as where to go. The temp forecast was for 6 degrees overnight minimum making the 3 season bag the ideal choice but my usual paranoia kicked in as I was throwing stuff at the bike so the quilt went in as well.

It was 7pm, dark and as it happened, not that cold when I finally departed the house. I followed an oft used mix of back roads, cycleways, trails and tracks to enter Devilla forest just before 8. I'd scoped out a likely bivvy spot which should be far enough away from the usual dog walking routes to avoid being disturbed the following morning by someones ill-disciplined mutt. On arrival, the clear square in an area of new planting was bit tussocky so I embarked on what would hopefully not be the usual bivvy spot finding faff. I did pass a couple of likely looking spots as per but pushed on a bit further into an area of deciduous woodland and level grass which seemed nigh on perfect. The only question mark was on how sheltered it would be when the forecasted over-night wind kicked off.

Up went the tarp in reasonable time given that the last time I used it was last July. As I got in a brief sprinkle of rain passed through. This was in the forecast but for later however it was short lived so I settled in with my book, a couple of beers, food and whisky. People talk of many motivations for going out into the wilds, usually related to such nebulous concepts as finding oneself, connecting with nature, dropping out of the rat race etc. etc. My motivation is more basic:- escape from the mayhem that is my work, ride my bike, eat food and drink beer.

As I turned in the rain came back on in earnest. It was warm though and the quilt redundant. This is probably the most urban bivvy I've done. Just to the south is the former Longannet coal fired power station, now closed and in the process of being dismantled. Beyond that is the Forth  estuary and then Grangemouth oil refinery, the roar of which was an ever present sound. In comparison, the patter of rain on the tarp was most pleasant and served as an ideal substitute for my tinnitus hearing aids, resulting in an almost instant descent into the land of nod. (or maybe that was the beer)....

I woke later noting the rain was off but the wind was up. There was much noise but my abode was peace and tranquility. In a break with tradition my spot was sheltered so no need for a midnight relocation as per my trip last June. I lay awake for a while listening to the rise and fall of the wind and looking at the moon shining down on me before again nodding off, daylight being the next thing to wake me.

It was 8am and the dawn chorus was in full flow. I'd heard geese and swans on the nearby Peppermill res the previous evening but now it was a variety of small birdies, giving it their all in response to the rising sun. Joy. Its such a relaxing noise and better yet I heard a woodpecker hammering into a nearby tree. Breakfast was a leisurely affair as I was in no rush. A brief sprinkle of rain came in but as I packed up the sun was shining.

It was breezy though but in light of the (rare) sunshine I figured on a longer ride than just heading straight home. I followed more familiar trails north, eventually landing in Dollar, now home to a very welcome Stevens bakery. A steak and haggis pie plus a large cup of splosh made a fine second breakfast whilst I contemplated my next move.

Clouds were hanging around up top so a lower traverse of my favourite range of hills seemed a better bet. Of course I was on my newly single speeded Jones so this would also serve as a test of how I could deal with a loaded one gear bike over rough and steep terrain. 

Up and up I went, climbing on road steeply out of Dollar before picking up a track that loops round a block of forestry. Ride a bit, walk a bit, ride a bit, walk a lot. This is the single speed rhythm. On a whim and a desire to scope out future bivvy spots, I diverted off the main drag into a fire break. As usual, this ended in an area of clear fell through which I battled before discovering a cleared single track up the hill. This topped out at a spot I hoped to bivvy at but someone had beaten me to it. Bits of old tarp, bottles of water, a fire site, litter and spades. Obviously a trail building base camp but somewhere I would avoid on spring or summer evenings as the locals would likely be in residence.

A bit of faffing saw me follow a trail which I then lost but I managed to descend through the trees back to the fire road. Then it was across the moor to Seamab hill on a great trail which was a challenge on one (wrong) gear.

Back on track and looking down to Glen Quey res.

Seamab hill with the Lomonds in the background, home to the right.

Down then up followed by a lot of down (I mean a lot, this is a great descent with some hairy off camber bits) to Muckart. Then it was a leisurely roll back home by my usual route of trails and back roads.

My only free weekend in March is the last one so it should be lighter, warmer and drier!

January Bivvy

I'd high hopes that this would have been a snowy one and it could have been if I'd headed north. However the prospect of making my way across the Cairngorm Plateau or any other unknown high ground in the dark didn't appeal. Maybe it was because of having just read an account of the Cairngorm Mountain Rescue team's operations over many years ('Cairngorm John, A Life in Rescue' - well worth a read), most involving winter, crap weather and darkness.

Anyway after some thought I decided to head for a spot I'd scoped out the previous weekend in the Ochills. I did a (snowy) January bivvy in Glen Quey a year ago so this seemed appropriate. I departed at 4 into the fading light and made my way by various trails and back roads to the hills. It had been frosty that morning but the sun had thawed most of it so there was a fair bit of mud in evidence. I took it easy not wanting to spray mud all over the bike only to have it freeze. Eventually as I started the long climb up to Innerdownie hill I was on firm, frozen ground.

This is a solid push but about the quickest way to my destination. After Innerdownie the trail follows a wide ridge line and passes a small plantation. I had a quick look for a plan B bivvy if my destination proved too drafty. The wind had got up substantially as I gained height and with the just below zero temps it was chilly.

I was aiming for a lone spruce tree which I'd discovered on one of my ski expeditions up here in 2018 and had become a lunch spot on the several other ski trips I made that year. I'd stopped off the previous week on the bike to shelter from a brief snow shower and noted that in amongst the branches there was space to lie down, hidden (hopefully) from the weather. I got to roughly where the tree is and headed off path to find it, conscious that I wasn't totally sure where I was going in the dark. After a couple of false starts the tree loomed suddenly in front of me.

A bit of a kit faff ensued, thanks to this being the first bivvy I've done for a while, but eventually I was settled into my bivvy bag (no tarp!) A groundsheet strung between two branches provided a bit of a wind break but it was pretty bloody chilly. I fired up the stove - a petrol soto which I've hardly used but I wanted something more controllable than my mini meths burner - and made tea. I then lay back reading and drinking the two beers I'd hauled up with me, finishing with a dram or three of whisky from the hip flask. Despite the noise of the wind I went out like a light. I woke briefly at one point to note the wind had dropped then flaked out again. Next thing I knew it was 8am and dawn was breaking.

Morning view, sleeping in the middle of a tree is a new one on me but highly recommended...

Hmm. The stove wasn't playing, I'd just about managed to bring water to the boil when I knocked the pan over. Grinding my teeth I ate a cold breakfast, packed up and got out of there.

The tree. Its self seeded from a large plantation a hundred yards downhill which Ironically has now been clear felled so its all alone.... I've never really seen a sitka on its own as they are usually in the middle of thousands of other ones. They grow much wider and the lower branches are huge.

Looking down to Glen Sherup. There was an inversion which was lifting as I departed leading to much view obscuring cloud appearing.....

In light of my stove incompetence and lack of my usual morning cuppa I headed for Whitewisp hill and an oft used descent down towards Dollar, turning off to pick up my outward route (now frozen solid) back to the house for a much needed breakfast and tea. Total distance only 30 odd miles in about 4 3/4 hours but not bad for a season opener. Hopefully I'll be in the snow next month!

Not Bivvy a Month, 2019 fail...

After a promising start, this year has been a bit of an epic fail. I got my first bivvy in before my knees let go big style just before the Rov. Looking back, this was my only triumph of the year, pushing through knee pain to finish the route in style. However the HT was a fiasco and in hindsight, I should never have even started it, regardless of the weather. At least my trip the following month was a success and by this time, I'd figured out I needed to lower my seat to ease the knees, not raise it. What I should have done back in February was to go straight to a good physio. Instead I persevered through the year, knees varying between OK-ish and very sore. So I didn't get onto the healing until the autumn. Finally a good physio, nigh on two months off the bike but on foot, and plenty of determination to do the right exercises got me back on track and on the pedals.

After a largely snow free winter, we got a bonus dump in April. This was taken on a fine ride round Ben Alder, feeling more confident my knees were on the mend.

One of two fine bivvies I did do, on the shores of Upper Glendevon Res. Actually in it as the water levels were still very low after a run of dry summers.

First ride along the recently opened Pilgrims trail, running across Fife, with many fine trails. This ended up with a nice bivvy in the Falkland 5 star shed, whilst the rain hammered down!

I'd no reason to give up on BAM in truth, just the usual injury depression keeping me in. The hill walking was a bonus though and has re-awakened my appetite to do more.

Plus finishing the year on a high - the Cairngorm Plateau no less - has motivated me for 2020.

I'm in for the HT as we are due a dry one (cue wettest spring in living memory), I'm eyeing up Wales and the infamous BB events and I've a few ideas for trips to tick off some of the routes I've been procrastinating about for a few years. Plus after a good start, I'm hoping the winter will recover from its currently doldrums as a good season of skiing seems to do wonders for my knees, something I did none of in 2019. More later...

The Plateau

The Cairngorm plateau is the biggest area of terrain above 1000m in Britain and has an accordingly grim reputation thanks to the severity of the weather it experiences. I've been up there a few times on feet and boards but I've always fancied it on the fatty. A couple of weeks before xmas I was thinking of what rides I wanted to do over the holiday. One day in particular was occupying most of my thoughts - my annual run up to my pals place in Speyside. On the way you pass through various mountain ranges and a high level fatbike ride seemed like just the thing to finish the year off. Since then the weather went all over the place - heavy snow, low temps, high temps, high winds, rain, more snow, more wind, finally with rain at all levels on the Monday 30th December. But the forecast for the Monday night was clear skies, lower temps and a clear forecast for the Tuesday. So, Glas Maol or Cairngorms......

A final check of the Mountain Weather Information Service (www.mwis.org.uk - a very useful resource if you are planning on going up high) clinched it - 90% plus chance of clear munroes all day, light winds, sub zeroes in the morning but a steady climb all day. I've twice been up Ben Macdui on shanks pony, both times in the pishing rain, high winds and zero viz. So today was the day. I cruised up the A9 in the early morning and was ready to go at 9am in the Cas car park.

My route would take me up a good path across the bottom of the northern corries and up the long ridge above Coire an Lochan. The biggest surprise was the number of walkers - literally dozens. I'm not used to such numbers on my rides so this came as a shock. Despite Aviemore being fat bike central and despite many people having ridden the plateau, I got many of the old 'check out the tyres on that' comments. In return I checked out what kit people were carrying. Many were carrying the full monty - axes, jaggy feet and plenty of gear. Others had minimal kit, jeans, cheap jackets and no sharp metal things. Given the reputation of this area, especially in winter, this seemed somewhat baffling. As usual I'd totally over thought it, with plenty of warm gear, plenty of food, a bivvy bag, GPS, phone, map and nous. I rode most of the way to the ridge on the path that was extensively upgraded a few years ago, the only cause for concern were the rime ice covered stepping stones across two burns. Eventually on the steady climb up the ridge above the coire, I ran out of leg and settled into a steady push up onto the shoulder at 1000m.

Coire an Lochan with a snow free 'Great Slab' This famous terrain feature typically gains a substantial covering of snow throughout the winter which often then avalanches spectacularly.

After this the riding was a joy - a nice easy gravel path climbing steadily. Soon after I hit my first snow patch. Thanks to the freeze / thaw cycles it was as hard as iron and thanks to the previous nights frost very grippy. I was passing walkers rapidly now and often diverting off the path to link up the snowfields for easy riding over a smooth, firm surface. On the final steep I rode most of it on another patch of snow which covered the boulder field that is the summit of Ben Macdui.

1309m, Britains second highest peak.

I stood a while checking out the views which were stunning with pretty much all of the Highlands visible. Redemption! I could even see my own hills (The Ochills) far to the south.
 

After photos and a snack I retraced my route but picked up further snow fields and was able to really let rip down some of the slopes, hitting 30 plus mph at one point. Large areas of hard water ice were of concern but it was still sub zero so these could be ridden with care. Turning off my outward route to head for Cairngorm, I finally left the crowds behind and was able to link several large patches of snow en-route.

Looking back to Ben Macdui, I noted many more snow patches which could have amused me for a couple of hours. I was on a bit of a deadline however as I wanted to get back in time to do some shopping and head to my pals place in plenty of time for the evenings drinking....
 

Following the route along the rim of the northern corries was the most demanding bit of the ride as its one big boulder field. Much riding of beach rock fields helped me here and I rode most of it to the summit cone of Cairngorm itself. Again, a bit of nosing around could have missed this section out and picked up some more snow. Next time..... One hard push got me to the top (more crowds) and then I faced over 600m of vertical descent.

Summit of Cairngorm and the (broken) weather station

I avoided the main drag up and instead descended by the Marquis Well route, bagging some more snow time before hitting the top of the ski area. I was able to stay mostly on snow to the ptarmigan and down the M2 piste until I had to pick up the path for the final section. This is a bit steppy but highly entertaining for all that. Total distance only 12 miles but with 1000m of climbing and some top class riding. I guess doing the circuit backwards would probably be better although the climb up would be hard work.....


As a year end route this ranks as one of my best of 2019. Hopefully next time I'm up here I'll be on the skis....