Stubborn is as Stubborn does

"You're supposed to be my FRIEND!"

I'm lying on my back, head down on a 40 degree slope of wet heather above a turbulent River Tilt nearing the end of this year's Cairngorms Loop. My bike is on top of me with my lower leg jammed between the chainring and the bottom bracket. I've been walking this bit because of the wind and still ended up like this. It's actually the second fall, the first saw me fall onto rocks with my elbow. It's not really my bike's fault.

I struggle to push the bike away, any potential injuries to my leg aren't of concern, I lean over the bike holding back sobs.

"Look," I say out loud because no-one's near enough to hear "you are just really tired. Get on with it."

Just sixteen loosely congregated riders were in the car park at the start on Saturday morning. Colin Cadden, who'd taken on the organiser's role from Steve Wilkinson for this year, was trying to get us all ready in time but herding cats would have been simpler. There were one or two who I knew already and a couple who I'd conversed with online so there were bits of chats going on. In the end we rolled out four minutes late, not that it would make any difference over the course of a day or two. Cath had entered but decided her fitness wasn't up to it so was doing the Tour of the Cairngorms which is basically the outer loop less the sting in the tail.

There'd been talk of people going for fast times but Huw Oliver had broken the record a couple of weeks earlier so that particular hare wasn't riding this weekend. My plan was just to get round.

The initial pace was quick but tempered by a decent headwind. I rode alongside Phil Clarke who I'd not seen for a while, he was on a singlespeed Jones so speed was limited on the flatter sections. There was also a rider on a singlespeed fat bike. I'd joked about bringing mine along but decided against it. Pretty soon we were at the crossing of the A9 and Phil pulled away on the climb because, well, he had a single speed. "That's the last I'll see of him." I thought.

The track to Sronpadruigh Lodge was fast, helped by the now tailwind. The burn crossings were low which augured well in comparison to three years ago. Then it was a bit of bog trotting to get to the singletrack alongside Loch an Dun. 

 

This is just ace and all rideable though I did get blown off by gusts of wind a couple of times near the end. A rider caught me here and we rode together as far as Rothiemurchus. The next river crossing which had stopped last year's group ride in its tracks was low and we just rode through it. My companion lived at the foot of the glen so we got the turn off the road right unlike the pair ahead of us who shot past it.

We head into the lower reaches of Glen Feshie and wend our way along the singletrack through the meadows. A slight confusion as to the exact route at Feshie Bridge and we are heading through the woods on Feshie Moor quickly followed by Rothiemurchus Forest. This always seems to take longer than it should. Still we pop out onto the road and arrive at the shop in Glenmore in just 4hrs30mins, really quick and some forty five minutes quicker than previously. I'm surprised to see Phil there, he'd only been a few minutes ahead but of course in the woods even 30 seconds is out of sight. A quick loo visit, a drink and I'm ready to go. Phil leaves at the same time.

Simon and Hamish

The Nethy is low, last time it was a brown torrent, so I refill with water again. Then it's the climb up Bynack Mor, I get so far then get off and push, no point in red-lining just for the sake of it - there's another 220km to go. As I near the top of the steepest section a rider passes me - he's managed the whole climb without dabbing which is very impressive in the windy conditions. I do see him dab once a little later but I think we can let him off with that. "I'm Hamish" he says as I catch him "I'm waiting here for my mate" - he spent most of this section as intervals, riding off and then waiting for his mate.

I struggle on the next section to the Fords of Avon (pronounced A'an) and take one OTB where I bash and bruise my legs. The first burn, the Uisge Dubh, is crossed dry, last time it was waist deep! The fords themselves are low and the crossing is easy. 

Compare the above with these shots from 2017

 

 

I don't think I rode any more of the section from there to the Lairig an Loaigh on the Spearfish as I did last time on the rigid Solaris, maybe the wind played a part but I just couldn't get going. Four of us reached the pass together and then it was the blast down into Glen Derry. The others were quicker than me but I catch one up, Hamish's mate, - "puncture or valve playing up" - he'd got kit to sort it so no point stopping. Further down we pass a chap on a gravel bike heading to the Fords, we think he was under the misapprehension it was rideable!

Once in the glen floor it's very quick riding again apart from the occasional water bar. Most of these have now got bypass lines to ride but there's still one or two "big" ones that can catch you unawares, I'd taken a tumble on one last time as then the light was fading. We reach Bob Scott's in full daylight, in fact I'm nearly two hours up on last time. I've now just one companion who introduces himself as Ian. "You rode that glen smoothly" he says "you just swept away from me." - I'm confused as he must mean me since there's no-one else around.

Straight through the Linn of Dee woods and the long drag up to the Geldie Burn. This is straight into the wind and I begin to struggle but we're catching another rider. It turns out to be Steve Waters and we'll end up riding together to Aviemore. The Geldie looked wide but really low, good news for later. Part of this year's rules was no use of bothies (the MBA have closed all of theirs due to Covid-19) but was surprised to see lights at the Red House. It turned out to be an MBA working party getting it refurbished for future use. No stopping, on over the watershed.

Lights went on at the end of the vehicle track and we managed to ride a surprising amount given that some of the "holes" cast by our lights were rather deep. Steve took a couple of tumbles, no injury as they were into bog not stone. Ahead were a couple of lights but we didn't catch them. Ian noted that he felt quite spooked by this terrain and scenario but having grown up in the country it felt quite normal to me. In fact it felt a bit weird having company on a night section of an ITT, I was totally on my own the last time I crossed here. Eventually the Eidart appeared, or rather the sound of the waterfall began to be heard over the wind, and the rickety bridge was more rickety with a board or two now broken. This time I managed to find the singletrack that winds in and out of the muddy argo-cat trail - much nicer riding. The forecast rain is just starting.

As we are dropping down towards the Feshie my light starts to flash. Surely it can't be running out of juice? Unless it had turned on in the bag and been discharging for most of the ride. My recharging system only really works when I'm not riding so I was stuffed. Fortunately Steve had a spare Joystick! Game back on! Then we came to the Feshie.

"Err, we've gone wrong lads, should have turned off about 50m back". 

We find the track leading to the landslip and drop into the tracks in the glen. "Your mudguard is flapping around" I'd wondered what the buzzing sound was, turned out a couple of the zip ties holding the Mudhugger on had snapped. A simple fix. Hmm, bad luck comes in threes?

Then we drop into the Feshie river bed, err, this is wrong. We back track through the undergrowth and get on the track. Then my chain breaks! Fortunately I've a quicklink so we get that fitted. While getting out my tools and spares I notice I've no spare brake pads, I'd moved them to the Solaris for the YD300 and not moved them back. I say nothing. Lights appear, "Who's coming up the glen at this time of night?" It turned out that we'd set off on the track in the wrong direction and it was us going the wrong way. The lights turned out to be Sean Belson, Hamish and his mate. The glen is mostly a blast, we pass the bothy, this turns out to be "locked" by the simple expedient of the estate renting it out as accommodation! I notice that two of our group were missing - nothing untoward they'd planned to bivy in the Glen so had stopped. It later transpired that they scratched at that point.

The tracks were fast until we got to the Allt Garbhlach, last time I'd crossed this higher up but now we'd reached the bit where it had really washed out and it involved a steep downclimb and climb out manhandling our bikes. After this things sped up and soon we were on the road. Rear lights on (don't know why we didn't see a single car!) and then it was time trial mode to get to the 24hr filling station in Aviemore.

Where the fuck did all the time go? The two hours I'd been "ahead" had all gone and I arrived here at the same time as last time. Sean had arrived a little earlier and had ordered his grub. You couldn't go into the shop so you ordered at the kiosk, not easy when you don't know what they stock. A coffee and a bacon butty later, oh, and a bollocking from the Polis for using a mobile on the forecourt (actually I'm turning it off as there's only 7% battery left - hence no more shots), and I'm ready to go.

"You don't hang around" notes Sean

"Starting to get cold and I've nothing else to do here."

"Where are you bivvying?" Ian asks. 

"I'm just heading on the route through the woods until I find a dry shelter or somewhere to bivy." 

"Mind if I join you?" 

"Not at all" 

And with that I set off. I turn off the Glenmore road and notice there's no lights behind me, oh well. I need to get some warmth into me before bivvying, fortunately the butty has done its job and I've plenty of energy. I pass where I bivvied last time and turn into the woods. A few km along the tracks and there's an old horsebox next to the track. Perfect. A bit of rearranging of the dry hay on the floor (really) and I'm just settling down when Sean rides past.

"I'm riding through. Steve's light is playing up so he and Ian have bivvied just outside Aviemore"

With that he rides on and I get into my quilt. It's 0200.

"What's that?" Something moves nearby. I'm not sure if it's a mouse or rat nestled in the hay near me or something just outside the horse box. I'm too tired to worry and drift off to sleep.

I wake at 0530 and there's just a bit of light in the sky so back on with my wet cycling kit (euch!), pack everything away and get going by 0550. No chance of using my stove because of all the hay. I notice that I'm only 100m away from a group of houses, shows how close you can bivy to folk. About fifteen minutes later there's a light at the side of the track. It's Phil who was putting away his bivy kit. Again we ride together, noting potential bivy spots amongst general chatter until again he pulls away his single speed being well the single speed he has to ride.

Alone again I push on, little energy in my legs or body, there's a tarp fluttering in the wind up above the track, it turns out to be a guy bivvying but I don't know if he's a rider or not. Quite how his tarp is offering any protection as it's set at about 2 metres above the ground. He waves and I wave back. I catch Phil up in Eag Mhor and we ride on through heather to the Dorbach burn. "One of my favourite bits of riding" he notes. Again he pushes on and I won't see him again.

The Burn of Brown is an easy crossing, it was this burn that was impassable three years ago, I say crossing, you actually cross it back and forth seven times. Tomintoul is still shut, I don't even ease up pedalling and turn into Glen Avon. Breakfast will have to be in Braemar 40km on. "Glen Avon's going to be a bitch in a headwind" Phil had noted. Actually it wasn't that bad for the most part. The worst bit was my drive train, it was making an awful racket. A five minute stop and application of oil sorted that out.

The singletrack around Loch Builg was nice apart from the gusting wind. The loch is meant to be in a wind funnel so if this wasn't so bad then it boded well for the rest of the route. No chance! I dropped into Glen Gairn and almost came to a halt. Even the flat sections along the glen floor were a real effort. Light showers hid the view and added to the fun. I'd already walked sections by the time I got to the fancy shooting hut at the foot of the Cullardoch climb. I walked nearly all of that. I'm at the summit when I notice a figure on the climb, probably Ian.

Even the descent from Cullardoch was a bit dicy with a cross wind but then I was on the descent through the trees to Invercauld, lovely. Braemar looked so close but you ride for a couple of km in the other direction to get to the bridge. Of course you then had that couple of km plus some more into a headwind to get to the village. Straight to the cafe. 

"Only customers using our app allowed" stated the sign. WTF! 

"How am I supposed to know that in advance? Plus my phone battery is dead." 

"Just fill out the card".

While waiting for my food to arrive, Steve Waters turns up. It turns out Ian was struggling a bit and since he'd arrived by train had realised he wasn't going make any of the Sunday services to get back home so was taking it a bit easier. An hour had gone by by the time we'd finished eating and chattering. I needed some medication for my arse which was really sore so headed to the Co-op.

Steve was long gone by now. I ate my ice cream while riding along looking for somewhere I could pull off the road and apply the arse cream. Slightly better. It's all road to the Linn of Dee but it's also into the wind and is hard work. Not as hard as the next section which is the only bit of the route that repeats, Linn of Dee to the Geldie Burn. This takes me an hour. My mood's worsening, I'm screaming obscenities at the wind. Just before the White Bridge I have to walk as I feel the first twinges of cramp. Normally I get this after about twelve hours so to get a day and a half into a ride is good for me. Doesn't do anything for speed though.

Then the Geldie. Yesterday this was benign, now it had risen substantially and was brown with flood water. Nothing for it but to wade across. It wasn't particularly deep, maybe knee high at worst but I knew there was more to come. Almost immediately there's two crossings of the Bynack Burn, the first of which looked really deep and strong flowing. A slight detour to find shallows meant trudging upstream along the middle of the burn until more shallows led to the other side.

The wind still hadn't let up and was pushing me around making what would normally be easy riding very hard work. As I approached the Tilt watershed there was more and more walking involved. I note the Tilt flowing down from the opposite side of the strath, I'm finally on the home stretch, just the Tilt to cross to get to the Sting in the Tail.

Then the wheels came off. By the time I got to the Tilt crossing I was in no mood to continue. Looking down the glen there were black clouds heading my way. I really didn't want to be up high in that lot, I really didn't want to have to cross the Tilt. I headed down the glen.

Even this was hard work - normally you'd do a couple of pedal strokes and freewheel for a minute or two. Not today, half a dozen pedal strokes and you got maybe three bike lengths before you had to pedal again. Plus my sore arse meant that I had to do all this standing up! It took nearly an hour and forty minutes to reach the car park. Cath had got there about ten minutes earlier. We got changed staccato due to all the dog walkers going past then headed to the pub for something to eat. Even the pint felt heavy.

I think my lack of mileage showed. The first 80km to Glenmore were really fast even accounting for being on a full suss rather than a rigid with the amount of road involved. Even with the high winds the section over Bynack Mor and Lairig an Loaigh I was over half an hour faster. Mechanicals and faffing/getting lost then ate up all that time gain. I ate reasonably well but probably not enough given how I felt on the second day, I should have stopped somewhere sheltered and cooked the food I'd brought with me rather than just pushing on.

Went the Day Well? No!

There's the saying "Fail to plan, plan to fail!" but sometimes even if you do come up with a plan and gone over it a hundred times, things don't turn out quite how you'd wished.

But quite how I ended up in an en-suite bedroom free of charge takes some explaining.

Last year on the HT550 I finished in 5 days 2 hours and 38 minutes. Not bad, actually now I look at it it's a decent time, but I knew I'd made mistakes and that with very little extra effort I could get under five days. I made a plan.

Then I threw it away and made another. And another. And, yeah, you get the idea. It wasn't until a few days before I was due to head north that I had a lightbulb moment. There was one point where I'd messed up my timings, I just had to get to that point two hours earlier and I'd be fine. What's more I wouldn't actually need to ride any faster than I had last year. I made another plan and went over it in my head again and again. The plan seemed good. I went to sleep. The plan still seemed good the following day and the next. Good!

Leaving the rain of Northern England behind I headed up the M6 and into Scotland with a live version of Led Zeppelin's Trampled Underfoot blasting out of the car stereo. Sunshine, Led Zep, (thinking of) biking, doesn't get much better than that. The plan was still in place.

Familiar faces and new at Tyndrum. We rode over the hill again for a drink and chat by the burn. Back into the village for something to eat then bed.

5am and it's fully light and there's people moving on the campsite fettling their bikes. Eventually I join them then it's time for breakfast.

Craig Thomson, Matt Mcwhirr and Jenny Graham at the Real Food Cafe

Alan (Goldsmith, the event organiser) is somewhat amused by my luxury item. Useful I insist, so it would prove. At 8:45 we wandered up to the start by the village hall.

A bit of milling around, some words were spoken and then Jenny sets us away. Usual plan, let the fast riders head off then ride at my own pace. The advantage of this is that the first technical bit isn't then a crush as you head down to the railway.

I get the correct right turn this time and it's a long drag up and over to Glen Lyon, not helped by a headwind. I'm riding around various riders I know and we chat away - basically if you can chat then you are going at the right pace.

The track along Loch Lyon

But something isn't right. There's a number of fords along the track and at each rise out of the ford I feel a distinct lack of oomph. There's just no power in my legs. We drop off the track and head down the glen on tarmac but with the headwind it's hard work.

Past the cafe, a bit early to stop plus I'm drinking and eating OK. I manage the climb out of Glen Lyon in one this time but I notice that I can't get into bottom gear. I'll fix that later. (of course I never did) Alan G passes me at the top of the climb and notes "This heat will cause some riders problems". Whether it was aimed at me or not it was about then that I felt the onset of cramp. After just three hours!

What followed next wasn't pleasant. All power in my legs began to go, even on the flat I was struggling. At the start of the next climb not only were my legs a worry but so was my stomach, I felt distinctly "queasy". A couple of riders pass me, "Are you OK?", "I feel a bit ill and I might pu..." with that I was retching but nothing really came back up.

Heading to Ben Alder

So it continued. A bit of riding, a bit of retching, a bit of walking as the cramps were now taking hold. By the time I was crossing the first hike-a-bike (actually mostly ridable this year as it was so dry) to Benalder Cottage my retching was now vomiting. A couple of riders suggest I get into the bothy and out of the sun and have a rest for a while. I'm in a bad way.

At Benalder Cottage

A while later I set off on the singletrack around Ben Alder. This is one of the highlights of the first day but I can't do it justice, I've no energy to hop the water bars and soon enough there's a "pssst" as my rear wheel hits a particularly sharp edge. I run tubeless but I've dinged the rim and the tyre isn't holding air. Out with the spare inner tube.

I'm on 29" wheels and the inner tube is 27.5"! Still it will stretch. Except that the sealant makes everything ultra slippy and the exertion makes me want to vomit again. Another rider passes and provides a third hand and the tube and tyre are on. Inflating the tube is another matter, I just want to throw up. Eventually I'm on my way again but it's for all of five minutes as I hit another water bar and the tube goes. Instant thought:

"Ride over"

How to get back to Tyndrum? Just over the first bealach is a glen that heads down to Loch Ossian and Corrour station. There's a stalker's track by the burn in the glen. That's plan B, not had one of those before so might as well use it.

I plod on, easing the back wheel of the bike over any rocks or water bars trying not to do any more damage. I rest by a burn and bring up the last of my breakfast. Whatever disagreed with me is now gone and I don't vomit again.

Ben Alder singletrack

There's no path down from the bealach it's just plough down through heather and bog and wade across the burn. The path is rough, almost unridable even if the bike had been in good order. Just keep plodding.

After a couple of km there's two women camping by the burn, Munro bagging of course. They offer me a cup of tea and we chat a while. Maybe nine miles to the station they reckon, at the most. A couple more kilometres of the path then it's hydro or estate road.

I plod on, the path ends and I'm on decent track. I get to Loch Ossian and there's a choice of track to either side of the loch. I go left.

I'm out of the woods and a couple of kilometres from the youth hostel when I hear bike wheels rolling along the track behind me.

"Bob!"

I turn round, it's Phil Clarke who I'd ridden with on the Highland Trail last year, he's out for a weekend loop taking in part of the old and new HT start sections. He gives me an inner tube so at least I can ride the last bit to the station. We chat away until his route heads towards Rannoch and I try the youth hostel to see if they've any cans of pop (no).

It's only a couple of km now to the station. It's late and I know the cafe will be closed so I'll doss down in the waiting room and get a train in the morning back to Tyndrum. Sure enough the door is locked but the kitchen windows are open so I stick my head inside:

"I know you are shut but do you think I could buy a couple of cans of pop?"

"Sure"

I sit on the bench outside slaking my thirst and I can hear mutterings from the kitchen. A moment later a head leans out:

"Do you want a pie?"

"Err, yes! How much?"

"No charge, it's on us."

The old signal box

Wow! Some proper food rather than snacks and sugary stuff. I ferry my bike and kit over to the waiting room on the platform and get my bivy kit out. I take my time and finish the last of the pop and am about to get stripped off and into dry clothing when a bloke appears at the door.

"We've been watching you go back and forth. You look knackered! We are stopping at the old signal box and there's a spare room with en-suite shower you can use"

I did offer a little resistance, honest, but I roll my bike one last time for the day along the platform, get what I need and stagger inside. Bliss!

Your bed for the night sir!

One shower later and I'm clean enough to think about getting in to bed. Sleep doesn't come easily, the cramps see to that.

In the morning time to use my luxury item - a shoe horn! Makes getting tight shoes on when you have cramp quite easy. To my suprise there's even breakfast included with the room. I buy a bottle of wine for the kindness of random strangers. The rest of the morning is lots of pots of tea.

The train is at 1230 and I hope that I can get the bike on without a pre-booking, I do and the first thing I notice are three bikes with SPOT trackers. I'm not the only one having problems. Severe cramps, heat exhaustion and a mechanical are their scratch reasons.

So what went wrong?

I think the lack of power has its roots in a chronic fatigue I've felt since last October/November. I've struggled even on my commutes. This meant that my long distance power output was actually very close to my current maximum which then led to the early cramps. Rather than tapping away at 60-70% I was at 90% from the off which is why the cramps started so quickly.

I'm pretty sure that something in my breakfast disagreed with me - as soon as I'd got rid of the last of it whilst I didn't feel "fine" I certainly didn't feel nauseous. Once you start being sick and losing fluids in heat like that there's only one outcome if you carry on.

The plan is still there, I think one or two of this year's successful completions may have implemented it for me. Congratulations to all finishers and commiserations to my fellow scratchers.

That plan is going to bug me now isn't it?

A River Runs Through It

Questions, oh so many questions.

A few years ago when I was just thinking about bikepacking (or whatever it was called then) a couple of friends rode one of the early editions of The Cairngorms Loop. My interest was piqued and I'd many questions for them: what did you carry? How? Did you take cooking equipment? And so on and so forth.

I didn't get round to actually asking the questions, instead I went on a learning curve.

I put my name down for the group start for May 2016 but that was cancelled due to heavy snowfall in the week preceding the event. This year's May start was a bit hampered by being close to the JennRide and not too far ahead from the HT550, we ended up reccying the Northern Loop of the HT550. Steve Wilkinson the organiser had obviously got a little fed up with the weather gods messing him about in May so had announced a September group start as well.

For a while the start list looked very meagre but on the day around twenty appeared at the car park at Old Bridge of Tilt.

At the start in Blair Atholl. Steve Wilkinson, the organiser, is in the blue top.

At ten o'clock Steve announces "Go!" but it seems as if we are as reticent at actually riding as at signing up for the event and it's a minute or so before the first of us puts foot to pedal and sets off.

As usual a group blasts off at the front. Let them go, I'll ride my own pace. I catch a couple up at Bruar as they strip off outer layers. It's all tarmac until the crossing of the A9 (easy peasy, there was nothing on either carriage way) and then fine estate track leading to the first of the river crossings just before Sronphadruig Lodge. No way were you going to complete this ride with dry feet!

Some moorland bog led to the first bit of singletrack along the edge of Loch an Dùin. I really liked this section, not too technical but still required thought. I caught one of the tail end of the lead group but Ian Fitz passed me about halfway along it.

More easy track (with one very deep burn to cross) then road and some nice singletrack to Feshie Bridge before diving into Rothiemurchus Forest. Easy to get lost in such places so just follow the line on the GPS. After Loch an Eilein I got in among riders on an "adventure triathalon", quite what they thought of me blasting past them on a laden bike I've no idea.

Early evening light in Ryvoan Pass

Cafe stop at GlenMore where I temporarily caught up with another of the front group then through the rather nice Ryvoan Pass and a question: straight on to join up with the outer loop or right for the inner loop?

Right it is!

The Nethy was looking angry at the footbridge which might not augur too well for what was to come but first there was Bynack Mor to deal with. This is the biggest climb on the route, chatting to Philip Addyman in the pub on Friday night he'd commented on the water bars and cuts - some just too wide to contemplate riding. Unweight, hop, push, ride. I was doing fine until "Bang!" My rear wheel clattered against a particularly sharp looking rock on the upper edge of one water cut. The tyre held but later inspection showed a very new and prominent mark on the wheel rim. I was walking and pushing from about here anyway.

A sharp shower causes the rider I'd temporarily caught earlier to stop and put on a waterproof. More plodding and pushing. Once on the top the route is more rideable though still with a few water cuts that require dismounting. A pair of walkers comment on a rider ahead:

"She just waded straight into the burn and waded across. It was up to her waist!"

That'd be Jenny Graham then. We reckon there are three riders ahead of us: Philip, Jenny and one other who we are unable to name.

Soon enough we get to the burn, Craig notes that he's never seen this burn so high before. Doesn't bode well for the crux of the route, The Fords of Avon, a couple of Km ahead. The route ahead might as well be a burn, it's that wet that we are rarely riding out of water. The burn before we reach the refuge at the Fords is also high. This is one of the remotest places you can be on the British mainland.

Questions

I've never been too comfortable around water, too much capricious power for my liking, so when we finally arrived at the Fords of Avon I was none too happy at what lay before us. The A'an was at least 30cm higher than in shots I'd seen of people crossing and the prominent island in the middle was partly submerged and looked like being lost for good in the maelstrom with most of the "stepping stones" merely hinted at by their addition to the foam and eddie.

We pace up and down the bank looking for chinks in the armour, I'm for heading down to Faindouran bothy but that means recrossing the burn we've just struggled across and perhaps unknown ones to deal with. Craig decides to go for it, I'll wait on the bank as "safety" though quite how I could be of much use without a line I'm not sure, maybe recording his last words for posterity: "Whoops! Aaagh! phht! Glug!"

Craig on the first section of the crossing. I crossed from mid right to the head of the island then took a line above Craig's head to the far bank.

He reaches the island fairly easily but the next section takes some five minutes of battling the current and controlling his bike in the flow. I don't fancy the line he's taken so head upstream to where I think there's a shallower line to the island and beyond. So it proves, but it's at the limit of what I can cope with in terms of resisting the power of the water.

As I reach the far bank Ian Fitz turns up and we guide him via the route I've taken.

Ian Fitz crossing the A'an.

He seems happy enough!

Once across the doubts begin, not of myself but of Cath who'd been very nervous about the river crossings and the reports of the water levels in the week leading up to the start. I'm hoping that she's chosen to do the outer loop. This part of the 'Gorms is known for having no radio contact let alone mobile phone coverage.

The first half of the climb up to the Lairig na Laoigh is mostly rideable if somewhat tricky at times but the last Km is more pushing. The descent into Glen Derry is again enlivened by water cuts and the crossing of the Allt Glas Mor. Ian pulls away then eventually I pull away from Craig. By the time I get to the path to the car park at the Linn of Dee it's dark and time for lights.

This part of the route is used by both inner and outer loops, the track up to the point where they part is easy angled and fast. Ian's rear light flashes in the distance, I nearly catch him before the junction. Then it's over to Glen Feshie, once the vehicle track ends and the path begins it's mostly walking, in the light I could have ridden most of it but black peaty holes when on your own in the middle of the night isn't wise.

I spot wet tyre prints across stones, someone isn't too far ahead, no lights to be seen though. I'm unsure if there's one, two or three sets of tyres. No point, press on. Somewhere on here is a big burn, the Eidart, with a rickety bridge to cross it, after hearing several small burns it finally comes into earshot. The bridge isn't too bad but you really wouldn't want to fall off.

Eventually a vehicle track is joined so some riding but still with some pushing where things are too soft and I spot the path leading away from the vehicle track. This leads to the landslip and through bushes to the bothy at the head of the main glen. Time to push on.

This is another glen that just goes on and on. I take a fall trying to avoid one of the pines that is part of the estate's regeneration scheme as I remove a hand and the tree grabs my handlebars. Tarmac is joined but it's still twenty minutes of riding to Feshie Bridge and another half hour to Aviemore.

Checking my phone whilst scoffing grub at the twenty four hour garage. No text from Cath but an email from Steve stating that the Burn of Brown is impassable. Hmm. Can't do anything now, time to find a bivy spot. A field with an open gate will do.

Fuzzy shot of my bivy

Questions

Where's Cath? There's no contact by morning.

Which route to take? I don't know Abernethy Forest so finding a bypass should I come across a swollen burn won't be easy. I decide to head round to Tomintoul by road. On a bike with 3" tyres this wasn't as easy an option as it might sound especially with some climbs of 20% thrown in the mix.

I get to Tomintoul just as the village shop is opening. A quick grab of chocolate and something to drink then I notice that the cafe is open so a chance to get out of the dreich. There's no rush now that I've deviated from the route.

The ride up Glen Avon is steady especially with a tail wind. A few short steep ramps lead to Loch Builg and some techy singletrack then some bog before more estate trails. At the top of the climb up Culardoc I replace the batteries on the GPS but forget to restart the unit until I get to Braemar.

The descent into Deeside is, hmm, interesting as my front brake is almost down to the metal. Once in Braemar I find a cafe and check my phone. There's a text from Cath - "At head of Glen Feshie". Relief. I need a pair of pliers to reset the brake pistons but the bike hire place is of little use. Oh well.

Back up to the Linn of Dee and the track to the Red House. The Geldie Burn is only ankle deep and not a problem to ford. I elect to walk the singletrack at the top of Glen Tilt. Having not done the correct route to this point and with basically no front brake I decide not to head to Fealar Lodge and just freewheel down Glen Tilt back to Blair Atholl.

I'd just grabbed some grub from the village shop when I get a call from Cath: she's in Aviemore and is going to scratch. She'd got to the Fords of Avon at 2100 with a couple of other riders and decided not to cross in the dark. They crossed in the morning, the other two headed down the Tilt and she carried on to the Feshie alone. Her text was from the Geldie-Feshie watershed, basically in the middle of nowhere!

So not an outright success. Physically I was there but mentally I was at a bit of a loss. Worrying about high water levels and how Cath was doing took its toll. Still the route's there for next year.

Success doesn't force you to ask questions in the way that any sort of failure does, it's just I don't know what those questions should be.

The Strava or it didn't happen bit. The straight lines between Aviemore and Tomintoul and just north of Braemar are due to me not restarting the unit.

The Highland Trail 550

Keep pushing on! We can make it! Focus is concentrated by the circles illuminated by our lights. Riding has become easy: we ride lines that aren't there; find traction where there is none; obstacles move out of the way as if by thought alone. This is easy!

Riders getting ready for the off.

My strategy for the ride was: "Let the fast riders get out of sight then ride your own pace." and that's pretty much how it played out. I'm nicely trucking along by the side of Loch Lyon and then down the road to Bridge of Balgie. There's a couple of riders around me, sometimes ahead, sometimes behind. Too early to worry about losing or gaining places at this point. Lee Craigie appears as I refill my water bottle, she'd dropped her GPS so had headed back to find it. One minute she's a hundred metres ahead then as I rise a crest she's just a dot in the distance.

I'm struggling in the heat. I feel nauseous as if I've drunk some bad water, if I try to force the pace I feel like throwing up, If I don't then I won't make Fort Augustus in time for food. Worse, my vision is blurred. The singletrack around Ben Alder is hard work when it's like this. I'm glad when the rain starts and while it's light don't put a jacket on to help cool myself down. 

Ben Alder Singletrack

No stopping at Laggan, keep moving. Cramp strikes on Corrieairyack Pass and I am forced to walk most of the ascent. The descent is longer than I thought as well. I get to the pizza cafe at 8:30pm and manage to get the last pizza! Two pints of SevenUp just about slake my thirst. Another rider catches me up on the trails through the forest to Invermoriston. It's dark now and we look for a bivy spot. Underneath a semi-trailer will do.

Keep pushing! Five days is within our grasp but the clock is ticking. Dawn light begins to give form to the land, darkness losing its grip. The bike is forced to one side by a rock and the hips imperceptibly flick it back into line, we are just floating along the rough track.

A big pull out of Invermoriston towards Loch ma Stac and I leave my companion behind. Loch ma Stac is a mixture of riding and pushing before a big downhill on a new access road. The next climb is up to the "track of a thousand puddles" though I only count 351. I pass another rider but at the turn towards the Hydro bothy he catches and passes me. The headwind makes reaching the bothy hard work and we pause there for a rest. Then it's a blast down to Contin and refuelling.

Pete McNeil and Phil Clarke in Strath Vaich

Old fighter planes in Gleann Mor

The pull up Strath Rannoch is one of those that just drags, it's not steep but just goes on more slowly than you'd like. The view into Strath Vaich is stunning but there's another drag to get over to Gleann Mor. Two riders pass me and as I'm closing a gate I hear engines, I look round to see two WW2 planes heading towards me. I get the shot below. Alladale and Croik seem to take forever as does the glen up from Croik. Eventually the northern Munro of Ben More Assynt comes into view and it's basically downhill to the Oykel Bridge Hotel.

The northern hills

There's four riders there and we debate where is best to bivy for the night. Enough talking and eating, time to press on. Glen Cassley is pretty in the evening sun but it's just as long as last time. The climb out over Moavally is just as steep. I should have put a top on for the descent as I'm freezing by the time we reach the bottom. Phil decides to camp here, I press on. I spy a woodshed, there's room for two and there's only me. 

A bit of road to start the day. I pass Pete, one of the riders from last night, who'd slept in a pipe! The track over to Gobernuisgach Lodge passes quickly enough and then it's time for Glen Golly. I make good time on this, only pushing the steeper and looser parts. All too soon I'm at the junction with the old stalker's path heading to Bealach Horn. Good lines and I ride a large part of it, avoiding all the bike sized holes. The descent to the Allt Dubh is still a bit of hike a bike though and it's still a bloody steep push up the other side. 

The descent to Lone is a blast and I'm soon at Achfary ridding my shoes of gravel. The whole of that section has taken just 3 1/2 hrs. The next climb feels like hard work though. As does the bumpy road to Drumbeg. There's two riders at the stores: Pete and Ian, we chat whilst eating, they leave just as Phil arrives.

The coastal singletrack around Achmelvich is lovely but I'm getting fed up of "one more rise" as I want some grub. Lochinver comes into view and I head for the pie shop. Ian mentions that my SPOT tracker isn't working as apparently I've done zero distance. Try telling that to my legs! I've no phone signal so no texts to try and sort it out. While eating Salmon pie and mash I try to reset the device but no joy. Time to head on.

The next bit is one of the hard sections: The Ledmore Traverse. I ride most of the way to the end of the first loch then it's time to take the bike for a walk. An hour into the traverse it begins to rain, with the headwind it's a bit grim. Another hour and I'm back on the road heading back to Oykel Bridge. Time trial it as best I can.

In the hotel there's talk between Phil and Ian of staying there the night. I'm wet and cold and let their decision influence mine and I decide to stop in the bothy as well. A hot bath and dry clothes for the morning.

It's on! We can do this if we get down to Kinlochleven in good time. We are feeling strong and will make short work of the ascent on the other side. I point out a spot that Cath and I used as a bivy then fall over. Every time I move and try to get up I slide further under my bike due to the nylon windshirt. We are both in fits of giggles. Not good for time.

I'm up and away by 4am just riding steadily towards Ullapool. Estate tracks lead to a sublime bit of singletrack traversing a steep hillside above a curious black gorge. Then a rapid descent into Glen Achall and more easy spinning along this before a frustrating detour over the hill behind Ullapool. I'm too early for Tescos so seek out a store on the harbour front and throw my money around (literally) to get breakfast. I ring Cath and get a text about the SPOT which I now get working. Ahead lies Fisherfield.

A second breakfast at the foot of the Coffin Road which isn't as bad as has been made out. The track across the top is frustrating and I don't find any flow. I get spat out at Dundonnell. The Corrie Hallie track is loose but steady until the ford then it rears up and pushing is the order of the day.

First view of Fisherfield

The view at the top is stunning, even with low cloud. If your soul isn't lifted by it then there's no redemption. The drop into Strath na Sealga is fast but once the old house at Achneigie is passed the going becomes tougher. I spend twenty minutes in Shenavall having never been there before. Coming out of the bothy a rider approaches - Phil Fraser-Thomson. He'd been forced to wait for the shops to open in Ullapool for spares. He pushes on ahead and crosses the river in front of me. I'd been expecting Shere Khan but got Bagpuss, it's below knee height.

Crossing the Abhainn Srath na Sealga

The proportion of riding to walking changes as you head up Gleann na Muice and by the top it's just a push or carry. Bad weather hits as I reach the top, on with my heavy duty jacket. It's grim and I'm heading into the wind and rain. Soon the path turns downhill and I drop out of the cloud and begin the descent to Carnmore. No time to visit and I'm across the causeway and heading along the track towards Poolewe. Another river crossing then it's time to cut through to Letterewe House and the Postman's Path.

I'm tired and the technicalities of the track frustrate me. A French lad who catches me at the gully learns some new English phrases as I have a sense of humour failure. Eventually the path deteriorates to rubble and it's a push. A steep descent and a bridge and things become easier but it's still a long way to Kinlochewe. Eventually the track becomes tarmac. Time for food.

There's bikes outside the hotel. "Whistle stop cafe has shut for the night." I'll eat here then. Four pints of Orange and Lemonade go with the meal. I was thirsty as well as hungry.

I'm riding out of Kinlochewe wondering how far I'll get tonight when a Pine Martin runs across the road, if you can call the mustelid gait a "run". Never seen one before. Quite makes my day, well that and the fact that I've just done the Queen stage of Fisherfield. Eleven hours for just thirty kilometres of distance, hard work, amazing views, rough weather, perhaps even a sense of humour failure on the Postman's Path. One of the most amazing places on the British mainland. A plan is forming, with luck I should make it back to Tyndrum in under five days. Tiredness is taking over though and I find a bivy spot debating whether to set an alarm, I haven't used one so far so decide to forego one and just set off when I wake up.

More taking gravel out of shoes at the bottom of Kinlochleven descent. We head up the steep and loose landrover track that's the start of the climb. We are still finding traction. My legs aren't struggling and my lungs don't feel like they are going to burst, alien like, out of my chest. Can we still make it? Progress seems so slow. I've been going since 4am yesterday, I should be tired but I'm not. I've a goal, we've a goal. Five Days.

I look at my purchases spread along the wall: a bottle of Sprite; a black coffee; a tin of sardines in tomato and chilli sauce; a block of Wensleydale and Cranberry cheese and a white chocolate Magnum ice cream. Ahhh! Breakfast! Torridon pre-dawn and Glen Ling done (with a truck that had been forced off the road for good measure), Glens Licht and Affric to come. Never been to either of them. The climb to the viewpoint is taken steadily, the main road is quiet and soon I'm spinning my way up Glen Licht. 

A rider is catching me very quickly. Am I moving that slowly? It turns out he's out for a day ride and meeting his mate at the hut at the head of the glen. I leave them chatting and begin the push and carry over to Glen Affric. The two catch and pass me as they are unladen (and fresh) but ahead I see another rider. It turns out to be Jenny Graham. She'd ridden through the night to Dornie and only set off from there about half an hour before me. We chat for a while before she decides to stop at Camban bothy and I head down Glen Affric.

Glen Affric is long, very long. I hardly touch the brakes as the track improves as it heads down the glen. At the last bridge I catch up with another rider and we start to ride together. Looking good for the sub five day now, the weather's fine and the only difficulties are in and out of Kinlochleven.

"What's That?" 

Something slides out of my front harness. Groundsheet. Where the hell is my dry bag with all my bivy kit? No choice, I'll have to go back to look for it. This could be a long day now. I ask walkers if they've seen it but no luck. It's there by the bridge, phew! Some repacking and I'm on my way again. Only a kilometre or so back but I'm now on my own again. Glen Affric is very long.

"Fuck!"

I'm at a junction in the forestry track but the line of the route is nowhere to be seen on the GPS screen. I zoom out. I've taken the first left when I should have taken the second. Other than the expletive there's no anger, it will only use up energy. I roll back down the hill to pick up the correct line. Pizza will have to wait a little longer. There's the soothing sweet smell of broom as I pedal uphill again to find the old military road. The descent is fast and ace and I emerge onto a street with kids playing around. "Mummy! there's a funny smelling man on a bike!" For a moment I consider heading north again, keen to prolong the experience, but pizza calls.

I'm the only rider at the cafe this time. "Soup for starters please, a 12" veg pizza. Oh, and a pint of 7Up and a pot of tea". The pizza doesn't stand a chance even if it is unexpectedly laced with Jalapeno chillies. Neither does my navigation as I go the wrong way again. By the time I'm back on track there's Jenny about to set off down the Great Glen. We'll ride together to the finish.

The Great Glen is still, the waters of the canal are mirror smooth reflecting the fading light. We swing from one side of the glen to the other. Easy riding, a 50Km time trial in the middle of the ride, sit and spin and chat easily. Slowly the light dies and we turn on our lights. We are near Clunes now, not far until Fort William. It's 1AM when we raid the 24hr garage. It's not a pretty sight.

"Come on! We've 30 minutes in hand. We can do this!" Coffee drunk and food pouches restuffed we're away again.

Past the youths drunk on Buckfast and turn left into Glen Nevis. We pedal steadily upwards on fire roads until the WHW leaves them and brains have to be switched on. Dips, rises, bends, waterbars. Keep going!

We reach the top of the Devil's Staircase and our time buffer is up. In fact more than up, even riding along the road wouldn't get us back to Tyndrum before five days is done. Might as well take it easy now. 9am passes as we reach the ski centre. We just ride steadily now, avoiding the walkers heading the other way a fall on this surface would really hurt.

At the top of the Devil's Staircase

A chat with some mountain bikers just after Bridge of Orchy and then it's the last climb, really, honestly, the last climb. We both struggle to get our bikes over the gate by the railway and push up the other side. It's a roll down the other side but there's a bit more pedalling before the final gate and we head down to the finish.

We'd expected one or two to be there but there's about twenty people cheering us in.  A handshake and a beer. We've done it!

5 Days 2 hours 38 minutes

Ah, that thousand kilometre stare. Jenny and myself at The Real Food Cafe.

Just a couple of things to do:

Eat.

Sleep.

Repeat.

Preparing for the Highland Trail

How do you prepare for something that's outside your current knowledge and comfort zone? Not easy to answer, in fact I'm not sure I'm asking the right questions or even if I did that I'd fully understand the answer. Is it the mental equivalent of "If you need to ask the price then you can't afford it"?

It's entirely possible that you can't prepare for it, you can only hope that you've found sufficient pieces of the jigsaw to let you recognise the full picture.

Physical training will help but only get you so far. You need to know that you can repeat that 100 mile ride tomorrow and the day after and the day after that and ...

We'd done a recce of the Northern Loop at the beginning of the month over three days so a nod towards multi-day rather than simple day trips or overnighters, there's no point in doing full 200Km days as the stresses on your body and mind will take some recovery. I'd done a full refit of the bike: new brakes; new drivetrain; seatpost; very nearly a lot of money of new bits. Summer tyres fitted so all this needed some shakedown rides to ensure everything worked as intended. The first was a quick 80Km ride around the Dales but the second was the second edition of the JennRide in the South Lakes.

Last year I'd used this to test a different bivy system. Suffice to say: I've not used it again! This year I considered riding the route in one go but this would depend on how I felt, weather, etc. Bikes all packed up and into the car on the Friday night, drive up Saturday morning.

The rain began at Ingleton. Then stopped. Then started again. Ah, one of those days eh? Faces familiar and not milling around at the start, lots of talk. Then the shout goes up "Five minutes to go!" except we are in front of the start line so ride round to the back of the group.

Then they're off. Which is all well and good except we aren't as in riding round to the back we'd stopped at a line of traffic cones! No rush, steady away and we head up the first climb. A goodbye and good luck to Cath and I press on. I'm chatting to George for a while until he decides that he's now overdressed and stops to remove a layer or two of clothing.

Soon I'm in a group of three heading over to Longsleddale with not many in sight in front of us. Hmm. Things come to a halt at Sadgill with a hiss as my back tyre deflates, no idea what I'd run over. One of my companions has some of those olive/anchovy/string repair things and with a bit of elbow grease trying to reinflate the tyre I can continue. At the top of the hill I put more air in, the fix seems to be working.

Down into Kentmere, then up and down and up again before easier going gets us round to Troutbeck. We catch the edge of a shower as we approach Jenkin's Crag, a bit of dithering about whether to put on a jacket, I decide not, but we all decide discretion is the better form of valour on the descent as the rocks are very greasy. The next discussion is whether to stop at the Co-op in Ambleside, the vote is "no" but I decide to pop into Ghyllside Cycles to borrow a track pump to get my tyre up to full pressure. I'm on my own from now on.

The Coffin Road leads into the tourist trap of Grasmere, I'm glad to leave, but out of the frying pan into the fire as Loughrigg Terrace is heaving. One big climb onto the southern shoulder of Loughrigg then it's easy going as far as Stickle Barn. This is the only really easy bit of the whole route, everything else is ground that needs constant attention to ride.

I fail to notice my earlier companions having a snack at Stickle Barn so head on over the horrible path leading across the bottom of the fell to the ODG. More easy riding leads back to Elterwater, one stiff climb - sometimes I clean this, sometimes I don't. Today I'm on a roll and nail it, including avoiding the walkers. Little Langdale is over far too quickly then a new trail for this year, Iron Keld. This puts in one of those frustrating loops where after half an hour you end up five minutes from where you were.

I get into Hawkshead and check the pub - there's two bikes there, decision made. It's Burty and Martin so we chin-wag while waiting for our meals,  Martin's had a couple of nasty falls and is looking rather stiff in his movements. Just ten minutes waiting time for the food this year. More riders arrive and take a seat. Eventually I'm getting cold so make my excuses and head to the Co-op to refill my trail snacks then away again.

I find the start of the North Face trail this year, somehow I'd missed it last year, but it's not nice riding and it takes concentration to avoid sharp rocks and pinch flats. The climb out of Grizedale leads to the lovely but easy track to Parkamoor with its spectacular views across Coniston Water. I'm riding in and around another rider, sometimes he's ahead, sometimes we are together. Parkamoor is the furthest distance from Staveley so heading back now. On the climb out of Satterthwaite he has problems with his gears and falls behind.

It's just a case of pedalling when you can, which is most of the time unless there's a steep loose section when it's easier to walk. There's already riders bivvying out on Claife Heights, they made one or more of the many short cuts that the route offers to get to this point. "You are continuing?" "Yes, there's still a couple hours of daylight". The temperature is cooling as the night descends and fast fire roads aren't ideal at the moment. A more technical descent leads to the road. I startle a deer who had been standing in the road, obviously not expecting a smelly cyclist to be there at that time of day.

I skip the climb back onto Claife Heights as I know the descent is going to be really greasy and on pitched stone. Instead I zip down the road to the lake shore and ride along the path to the church at Wray, wash from a passing boat lapping at the shore.

With luck I'll get to the filling station in Ambleside before it shuts at 10pm, a coffee, text Cath to let her know how I'm getting on. Except it shut at eight! My phone's flat as well. Lights go on and it's a quick spin along the main road to Brockhole and a BW that I never knew existed. This leads ever upward in the night to rejoin the outward route at Town End.

High above I can see a flashing red light on the track over Garburn Pass, another rider! No way am I going to catch them, it's too close to the finish. My turn, it's uphill but there's only one more hill after this one. Again I ride what I can but in the dark the rougher bits aren't a goer. I start to ride down the other side but after only a hundred metres or so I get off and walk - I'm on my own, it's nearly midnight and the rocks slippy as hell, no time for heroics.

The angle eases and I'm back on the bike then almost immediately off it but not in a controlled way. Sod it! Just walk. By the midway gate it begins to chuck it down so on with both jackets. Fortunately the rain doesn't last long and by the time I'm in Kentmere it's clear again. The climb back up onto Green Quarter is frustrating, it's rutted and in my tired state I keep catching the sides and coming to a halt. More Jelly Babies, more walking. Finally the top.

The Jelly Babies are kicking in and the track across the fell goes easily. One descent and it's road to the finish, I remember that there's one drop in the track that in my tired state isn't rideable, fortunately I spot it in time. Down to the road then start clicking up the gears and head for Staveley. I get to the finish at 0045. 15hrs15.

Back in the field that's the car park and my first attempt at using the cuben fibre tarp and bivy bag. It goes up not too badly. Time to sleep.

As a shakedown ride it went pretty well. I've figured out most of what will and won't work and whether I've enough space (or even too much) on the bike. I've decided not to use the Lioness front pouch, the use of the small double ended dry bag in the Lion harness meant that it occasionally came loose as the straps worked their way over the ends of the bag. As a result I'm going with a top-tube bag instead. This will require a little rejigging of where stuff goes but one advantage is that the weight is now more evenly balanced on the bike with just over half the weight carried being between head and seat tubes.

So a week of rest before the drive north to Tyndrum and the group start at 9am on Saturday morning.