INTO UNGRADED TERRITORY
The trails in Scotland’s Tweed Valley are preceded by their steep and scary reputation. But you shouldn’t let that put you off, explains Aneela McKenna, as she guides a group of backcountry virgins into the unknown
Scotland’s Tweed Valley has a gnarly reputation but local guide Aneela McKenna reckons that with the right approach, anyone can conquer these wild, remote trails without eating (much) dirt.
Rumours of the steep, rock- and root-strewn testpieces hidden among the dense conifers of the Tweed Valley have spread far and wide, making it the UK’s first enduro epicentre. For some, the lure of these challenges is irresistible, but for others, the idea of straying off the waymarked trails into dark and foreboding terrain is a daunting prospect. However, I’m a firm believer that, if armed with the right skills – and a few gentle pointers here and there – everyone can enjoy the delights of the trail less travelled.
“Ride like a boss,” shouts my fellow Go-Where Scotland coach Jules, as Lisa sizes up the drop ahead of her. There’s a brief moment of tense anticipation, which quickly turns into excitement as Lisa flies through the air and touches down perfectly, wheels level, body poised and head up. She’s taken aback. When Lisa started this weekend, she lacked belief in her ability. Now, after two days of exploring the Tweed Valley’s finest, it’s as though we’re seeing a completely new rider in action.
First-night nerves
The idea behind this trip was to round up a bunch of riders who, by their own admission, weren’t the most experienced, but made up for it with an eagerness to push themselves beyond their comfort zone, into the unfamiliar realms of off-piste riding. When we all met for the first time in the B&B, there was a definite edge to the air. I could sense that everyone was nervous – unsure about what lay ahead and, all being strangers, apprehensive about how their skills would stack up against the others’. Jules’s energy went some way towards diffusing the tension and I did my best with my repertoire of bad jokes, but I could see that the Tweed Valley’s reputation was weighing heavy on their minds.
Fundamentals
Knowing that the best way to loosen everyone up is to get on the bikes, first thing the next morning, we pedal up to the top of the blue trail in Glentress to ease everyone in and work on some fundamentals. In most groups I’ve guided, the range in skill levels is vast, and this time is no different.
Alex and Lisa have done some enduro racing, Jo and Rachel are novices, and we have one ex-roadie (who shall remain nameless), who seems intent on taking a literal crash-course in mountain biking. As we watch her wobbling down the trail, saddle up, rigid as a board, Jules and I give each other ‘the look’.
Breaking down the basics of body position and cornering into simple steps, it doesn’t take long before everyone is flowing through the banked turns of ‘Berm Baby Berm’. I reckon we’re ready for the first proper taste of what this weekend is all about. ‘Ho Chi Min’ is a trail that first featured in the 2017 Enduro World Series. While littered with roots, ruts and line options, it’s not terrifyingly steep. Jules and I stand trackside and watch as the crew take their first tentative runs through a particularly tricky root section. The first time, nearly everyone falls into the same trap, grabbing the brakes and stalling as the rut narrows. The secret, Jules explains, is to “see the way” rather than “see the roots” and so, armed with a few pointers, everyone pushes back up for another go.
the taste of trees
One of the great things about riding in a group like this is that everyone can learn from each other’s mistakes and feed off the enthusiasm. Lisa spurs the others on by taking repeated runs, with ever-increasing finesse, until she’s got it dialled. Her all-ornothing attitude is great, but it does get her into the odd dodgy situation because she tends to skip the advanced braking and come into sections way too hot. “I’m a bit of a speed addict,” she admits, as we look on, hearts racing, “but I don’t like the taste of trees so much!” A couple more glancing blows with the woodwork and it clicks for her that carrying speed isn’t about going
One of the great things about riding in a group like this is that everyone can learn from each other’s mistakes and feed off the enthusiasm
Everyone has witnessed each other’s highs and lows, crashes, curses and tantrums, and we’re becoming a team
all-out, but maintaining control and preparing for what’s ahead. This really is the secret of nailing technical trails. Find the sweet spot and you’ll start being able to piece together sections of trail like never before.
Who likes hot sauce?
Super-fit, but definitely a little more apprehensive, it takes our roadie a little extra guidance before she makes it through the section, but when she does, it’s accompanied by a huge cheer from everyone else. I guess it’s time for something a bit spicier then! From the top of the Buzzard’s Nest car park, we branch off into steeper ground, on a track with a bombhole. I don’t know what it is about that word, but it always seems to send heart rates fluttering. As if in a synchronised trance, a change comes over the faces of everyone in the group. Laying their bikes on the floor, they peer over the edge of the crater with a collective “Oooh…” As if any further pressure was needed, a young lad, just off to the side, who’d been working on digging a new trail, downs tools to watch us with curiosity.
I’m apprehensive, but to my relief, everyone keeps it rubber side down… until we’re halfway down the trail. I catch up with Jo, who’s wrapped herself around a tree. Squeezing through a tight gap, she’d caught her handlebar and washed out, sending her bike cartwheeling down the hill. Luckily her pride is the only thing damaged, but, with a gung-ho attitude that has a tendency to outrun her skillset at times, crashing seems to be a regular part of the learning experience for her. She’s a trooper though and confesses to me that her bruises make her feel proud, knowing they’re a symbol of all the new skills she’s learned. By the end of day one, there are few inhibitions left. Everyone has witnessed each other’s highs and lows, crashes, curses and tantrums, and we’re becoming a team.
Raising the bar
Even so, when the name Innerleithen is mentioned over breakfast the next day, I can see the nerves creeping back in. I reassure everyone that ‘Inners’, as it’s known to the locals, isn’t just full of kamikaze stuff. ‘Angry
Sheep’ is a perfect introduction to this side of the valley. Built by two local legends – Pedro and Janey – it arcs through a series of sublime berms and turns that I challenge anyone to get bored with. First up, yet again, is Lisa. After yesterday’s heart-in-mouth deathgripping, we’re all impressed by the relaxed and controlled way in which she flows through the turns.
Contrary to its reputation, Inners is the perfect place to hone your skills. Hidden in the trees are trails for all levels, and with fireroads crisscrossing through the woods, it’s ideal for repeating short laps, practising and consolidating techniques, and gradually upping the challenge. After making so much progress, stoke levels are at an all-time high as we drop into our final trail of the weekend. As she nails one of the last drop-offs, I can tell from the grin on Lisa’s face, as much as her bike control, just how much her riding has come on over the past two days. She’s buzzing, and so is everyone else. With the solid foundation we’ve built, they can all now go away and conquer their trail nemesis back home. Even our roadie has nearly been persuaded to buy a mountain bike of her own!