GLEN TILT, CAIRNGORMS
The days may be short and the air chilly, but there’s not much that’s more magical than a lochside winter blast through the snow-dusted Scottish Highlands
For this issue’s Big Ride guide, we’ve made our way to the Cairngorms, in Scotland, in that uncertain period just as autumn turns to winter. There’s always a risk of seriously cold, wet weather at this time of year, but the rewards of golden colours, quiet trails and a sprinkling of snow across the mountaintops is invariably worth it.
After struggling up a crowded and crawling M6 the night before, we wake in Blair Atholl, to a whole different world, not least because it snowed during the night. The Cairngorms National Park is twice the size of the Lake District but has a population of only about 25,000, so it feels very quiet up here. With lots of mountains (including five of the six highest in the UK), forests and lochs, plus Scotland’s open access policy for cyclists, there’s an endless supply of superb and epic riding to be had. But the Cairngorms also hold the record for the UK’s lowest temperature (-27.2°C), twice, and for the highest British wind speed (173mph).
Against the clock
We hope it’s not a bad omen as we slip over on black ice collecting our bikes from the van. Temperatures are well below zero and there’s a sprinkling of snow on the hills, with frost and ice everywhere else. At least we’re riding from the hotel this morning, so we don’t have to drive
anywhere. Unfortunately, the cold has left my dropper seatpost stuck down and it refuses to come up. Thankfully, my riding buddy for today, Nick Craig – Scott-sponsored rider, multipletime XC and cyclocross national champion and all-round nice guy – shows up with a spare Scott Genius. Well, maybe he’s not that nice, because he’s keeping a gorgeous Scott Ransom for himself.
With sub-zero temperatures and short days to consider, we keep the pre-ride faffing to a minimum and pocket a few extra emergency items before heading off into the frozen wilderness. We’re tackling the classic Glen Tilt route today, which offers a big ride, deep into the Cairngorm hills. It’s usually ridden in a clockwise direction, but we think it’s best anti-clockwise, so we keep right at the Old Bridge of Tilt and continue the grind uphill on tarmac. In these cold temperatures it’s key not to get too sweaty and damp, which is concerning me, because I’m having to keep up with Nick and our snapper Russell on his e-bike.
Deer and crash debris
Thankfully Nick is a gentleman, which either rubs off on Russell or he’s just worried his battery won’t last the distance! We climb steadily, slowly warming as we head deep into the Cairngorms. The views just keep getting better, with bright autumnal colours and snow-capped hilltops rising above their reflections in the shimmering loch.
There are three possible extra out-and-back trails on this ride. The first is probably more of an alternative route though, because it’s a tough hike up Carn Liath, to just shy of 1,000m, before flying back down. Today it’s covered in snow and clouds, so we continue along the valley bottom instead, on a well-surfaced trail, although the frost has lifted the top surface so it’s soft going and energy sapping. When the path bears sharp left towards the hills, we keep ahead on a faint track through the heather and tufty clumps of grass, sad to leave the security of a prominent track.
The frozen conditions soon help us though, firming up the usually sodden ground as we weave a way through to the river crossing. With the icecold water not an appealing prospect so early in a big ride, we delay, riding upstream in the hope of finding a drier option. It doesn’t come. Eventually we bite the bullet, and with Nick in his new Scott winter boots, Russell and I nominate him to cross first. A few squeals and splashes later, we’re all across and trying to pick up the trail again.
Feeling like we’re not alone, we stop to scour our surroundings and spot no fewer than three herds of deer, each 20 to 40 strong, eye-balling us, as we head to Glen Loch. This is the start of the next optional out-and-back trail, which leads to the lovely Loch Loch – a picturesque setting for a remote picnic and, if it wasn’t so brass monkeys, a mid-ride paddle. It’s also the site of an RAF Hercules plane crash back in 1993, which killed all nine crew members and scattered wreckage over a 150m2 area. Russell is keen to see the Loch, for photo opportunities, so powers off to check it out,
and Nick scampers off after him, while I wait and calculate how comparatively little we’ve ridden, how far we’ve still got to go and how short the days now are. Time is not on our side.
Fortunately, Russell decides we ought to push on too. Unfortunately, it’s because the horizon behind us is being engulfed by a huge black cloud. Back on track (a good, firm 4x4 track at that, too), we race along to the lone house at Daldhu. The new owners are just moving their belongings in, so we stop for a quick chat to welcome them, admire the setting and commend them for their bravery. It’s a long climb back up the valley, but the track is in a good condition and with the ominous cloud chasing us, we make fast progress.
Riding out the storm
Just as we reach the top and stop to put on more layers for the descent, the snow and wind catch us, and everything becomes a swirl of white. Despite already having a merino baselayer and a big, warm Endura PrimaLoft jacket on, I’m still chilly, even after adding yet more layers. By now we’re feeling properly adventurous and truly in the middle of nowhere, but suddenly a van appears, bumping up the track towards us. Ironically, it’s a refrigerated van!
By the time we reach Fealar Lodge, the worst of the weather has blown over us so, as we start to head back, bearing west, we rest in the heather at the top of the valley to take in the stunning view, and revel at the thought of all the miles of descent ahead of us. It seems a fitting time to crack out the emergency Scotch eggs I’d stashed. A lovely singletrack trail winds its way along the top here, before dropping steeply downhill, with some tight switchbacks, to cross the Allt Garnh Buidhe. It’s a stunning spot, even in these conditions, so we stop again briefly. The snow starts to fall once more and when we retrieve our bikes just two minutes later, they’ve left stencils on the ground. Thankfully, the river is still fairly low, so we cross the ford with relative ease before making our way over the Bedford Bridge foot suspension bridge.
The light is definitely fading but gravity is on our side now, and so too, finally, is the weather, so we charge along the singletrack, down to a good, firm 4x4 track that undulates along beside the river. Two herds of deer, one on either side of the valley, shepherd us down, barking as we go. This makes for a magical finish as we ride into the setting sun, which is placed perfectly at the foot of the valley and beams hues of orange and yellow back up it, bringing the best out of the beautiful autumnal colours.
The last of the optional extras is once again not an option for us, because it’s a big climb up from Clachghlas, up Faire Clach-ghlais, before a steep technical descent back at the Forest Lodge. Instead we stick to the valley floor, where the track becomes tarmac and is easy to follow. With numb hands and feet, and the sun behind the hills now, we race on, arriving at the hotel just as it gets properly dark. Perfect timing for an epic ride. I’ve never packed a bike and changed quicker though, before staggering into the bustling, cosy bar, already feeling the warm glow of satisfaction that’s only brought on by a big, cold ride in the wilderness, followed by ales, haggis-stuffed steak and a side order of bike chat.