ROLLING ON THE RIVER
Keen to spread their wings after last year’s lockdown, David Lintern and family take to their saddles for a fun multi-day ‘bikepack’ along the Deeside Way – but soon discover they may have bitten off more than they can chew…
“No amount of snacks were going to get us through the next two hours without a fair amount of sulking. And that was just the adults.”
WHAT TO DO, when the school holiday coincides with un-lockdown and a veritable festival of fevered families desperate to escape the mean city streets?
Here in the Scottish Highlands it’s a whole new tourist ballgame, post-Covid. With international travel off the cards, there’s been an inevitable influx of visitors every time guidance permits, often without the facilities to cope. In the summer of 2020, the news and social media were awash with images of ‘dirty campers’, which helped no-one and triggered many. Thankfully, we’re all heading into 2021 with a clearer understanding of so-called ‘visitor management’ and more rangers, loos and public information; but last year, we were in unknown territory.
My family are very lucky: we already live somewhere beautiful; but just like anyone else we were keen to spread our wings after keeping it local. But where?
The west coast sounded like it was bursting at the seams. “I know,” I said, “how about a bikepacking loop based around a bit of the Deeside Way? Child-friendly, not too busy, not too many contours – what could possibly go wrong?”
We loaded up the wheels at Ballater, and I quickly realised how naive I’d been. It was positively heaving: full of people behaving perfectly sensibly in the warm sunshine, seeking fresh air, an ice cream on the green or a pint in a beer garden with plenty of distance between them. Busy? Yes, after semi-isolation it was a change to see so many people in one place; but ‘selfish covidiots’? I think not. We’d be back for our ice creams later, but for now, our convoy proceeded in a (very!) stately fashion through the village, following the River Dee for a short while by road until we pulled off for a quiet camp near the Cambus of May bridge.
At this point, I’d like to say with an air of smug superiority that we’ve learnt the key with kids is to keep the workload low and the camp spots as leisurely as possible. I’d like to say that, but the truth is parents are often too tired to remember anything. We have to keep learning the simple things over and over, too. There are other variables at play, though. Children will just keep growing and changing, and it’s a job to keep track of what’s exciting and challenging for them, and what’s just a bit too much.
This was the first time my eldest had tried an extended journey with her new mini mountain bike, and coaxing her up the first road climb took my all my partner’s powers of persuasion.
The second variable this time was the pandemic itself. Would informal riverside camping be OK, or would we be met with anxious locals? We genuinely weren’t sure.
Berried treasure
Our first evening and overnight passed peacefully. The only passers-by we saw seemed happy enough to see us, and most of the midges were occupied elsewhere. We saddled up and moved on at our snail’s pace by mid-morning the following day through sunlight woodland, before turning off the road again by a farm, alighting upon the first of our berried treasure. We filled Tupperware (it’s a kids trip, there’s always Tupperware) with the fruits of the biggest redcurrant bush I’ve ever seen in my life and set off up a steep, rough track.