From Glen to Glen and Down the Mountainside Three days through the Western Highlands from through Glen Affric to Story and photos by Al Churcher It began as a low rumble late August, it’s light by 5:30 a.m., and an of mine to follow the old cattle-drovers’ in the distance, accelerating in pitch and hour after that the sun had cleared the trees “road” through to the west coast. volume, until with a mighty roar it was surrounding the campsite and coaxed us Two hours after emerging from our upon us. As the floor shifted beneath us out of our tents. Starting from the end of tents, we’d left the car keys at the campsite and the walls shook, the corrugated roof Loch Ness, we had three hard days of off- office and were pedaling over the seemed to stretch upwards before shudder - road riding ahead of us. Our plan was to fol - Caledonian Canal bridge, past the yawning ing back into place as the wind tore through low ancient tracks and military roads over motorists waiting for the petrol station to the valley. The next one was louder and two barren and remote moorland ridges open. Reflecting that these were probably fiercer — and the next. And the next. into the heart of the Scottish Highlands, the last cars we’d see for the next Convinced that the roof was going to go at first into Glen Morriston and then Glen three days, we left the out - any moment, my travel-mate Kim started to Affric. Deforested centuries ago, the skirts of Fort stuff everything within reach into his back - Highlands are known for their wild, open pack, but the two would-be ostriches beside mountain ridges and valleys, but above its him buried themselves even deeper into the long silver lochs, the slopes of Glen Affric warmth of their sleeping bags. Gradually are still cloaked with thousands of Scots the wind lessened, its banshee howls giving pines and it had long been a dream way to the hammering of rain that contin - ued almost to daybreak. Two days before, it had all been so very different. In northern , even in Augustus behind and turned north off the trees, a jeep track followed a pylon line over tarmac onto the remains of one of General the crest of the moor and down to the road Wade’s 300-year-old military roads. The in Glen Morriston. A riverside lunch stop in stony track soon turned into grass and grav - the birch trees, then a bit of searching el singletrack winding steadily up through around to find the right turn, and we were the pine trees, and with a long day ahead of back on the trail and heading north again. us and packs stuffed full of tents, sleeping Although it was some yards off the road, the bags, and three days’ worth of food, we were Old Drove Road sign was clear enough, so happy to settle into a steady granny-gear rounding a bend, we were surprised to find rhythm, with the occasional off-the-bike the trail blocked by a six-foot-high gate. Kim push for good measure. Once clear of the used to run problem-solving courses, so he

Ahoy below. Intrepid cyclists pause in Scotland’s backcountry to gain their bearings.

38 ADVENTURE CYCLIST MARCH 2007 ADVENTURECYCLING .ORG stood back and took the photos, assuring us that this was all good team building as we struggled to pass the bikes over. More easy fire roads led over the next ridge, and although the hoped for bivi-spots around the tiny lochans of Beinne Baine proved to be inhospitably boggy, a few miles further on, we found the perfect spot. Sheltered by three magnificent Scots pines, yet open enough for a breeze to keep the dreaded midge away, there was just enough room on either side of the stream for two small tents. Even better, it faced west, and we dozed, cooked, and dozed again in the warmth of the evening sun until clouds gath - ered and the sun finally slipped away behind the mountains of Kintail on the horizon. Tomorrow we’d be right among them. A pleasant shelter. The group stays at Camban Bothy near the Five Sisters of Kintail. Despite the long northern gloaming, we were asleep by nine and slept soundly until onwards, we took advantage of any lull to the clouds appeared, and by 9:30 we were the unmistakable patter of rain on nylon poke a head out of the flysheet, each time back on the trail. some five hours later. Soon the patter finding that not only were the mountains Once in the forest, the logic of keeping became a drumroll, easing only for the first lost in impenetrable cloud and rain, but so to the widest fire road served us well until of a series of lashing squalls that seemed to was the forest a few hundred yards below us. the steepest drop of all (naturally) led round be transferring the entire contents of those Just when it seemed we were going to be a bend to a total dead end. Luckily our next lochans onto our tents. From 7:00 a.m. pinned down for the entire day, a break in choice was the right one, and a long east -

ADVENTURE CYCLIST MARCH 2007 ADVENTURECYCLING .ORG 39 ward zig took us cruising down past the hilltops covered by mist and cloud, there nothing on the man-eating Scottish Hilton Lodge and its gillies’ and foresters’ was a total absence of wind. And, when the midge. Nowhere else have I seen cottages to a westward zag down to the rain returned, the midges came too (so cartoon clouds of insects obscuring peoples’ blacktop at the tiny hamlet of Tomich on much for the “either, or”). Now, having vis - heads, nowhere else do white-skinned town the River Glass. Follow the Glass northeast ited northern British Columbia, the Yukon, dwellers receive instant “suntans” when for some ten miles to Erchless Castle and it Alaska, and the southern tip of New every exposed inch is covered by connected becomes the River Beauly — flowing ser - pentine-like on to the Beauly Firth, Inverness, and the sea. Follow it upstream and west as we did and it becomes the River Affric, linking the longer fingerlike lochs of Beinn a’ Mheadhoin and Affric itself, and lending its name to what many believe is the most beautiful of all Scottish glens. But despite the alluring combination of open water, valley sides cloaked with miles of native Scot’s pines — the most noble of all British conifers — and bare mountaintops above, we were hardly seeing it at its best. After my last August trip to Scotland (more years ago than I like to remember), I’d sworn never to return again in what we jok - ingly refer to as summer, when you’re either Extreme protection. The lads were somewhat prepared for the mighty Scottish midges. being eaten alive by midges or hiding from the rain. Today the pines and lochs had Zealand’s Fiordland, I can swear that black midge bites, or demented vacationers run their own somber beauty, but with the lakes flies, sand flies, and all the other indigenous screaming to immerse themselves in any more often than not hidden by trees and the insect swarms of those far-flung regions have available stretch of water, before they tear off

40 ADVENTURE CYCLIST MARCH 2007 ADVENTURECYCLING .ORG their skin with their own nails. It took some time for them to find us — as long as we were pedalling we were as unaware of them as they were of us — but as soon as we stopped they were upon us. (Sniffer dogs have nothing upon the olfacto - ry abilities of the humble midge!) But we were prepared and within seconds had donned our net hoods — well, two of us had — mine had hidden itself in the nether regions of my pack, and it took several, very long, expletive-muttering minutes of rum - maging before I too was safely screened. The problem was that it had been some hours since breakfast, so we’d stopped for a snack. Somehow evolution hasn’t prepared us for eating with faces covered in netting, and we A little R&R. Wild camping among the heath and streams of the Highlands. seemed to take turns at taking mouthfuls of nylon along with our cereal bars. The fire mile or so on and we seemed to have left the bridge, the gravel road continued for anoth - road above the lochs rose and fell easily ravening hordes behind, but within minutes er three miles beside the river’s twists and above the shoreline, and although I was a lit - of removing our nets they were back. At turns. Although the sky was still predomi - tle claustrophobic, I could see perfectly well least the rain had stopped, so instead of a nantly grey, the cloud ceiling had lifted through the netting — or I could until we coco day (coats on, coats off) it became a above the jagged peaks that now dominated started to climb, when my trapped breath nono (nets on, nets off) for the next five every horizon, and every so often a patch of immediately steamed up my glasses. miles, until we left the forest and Loch Affric blue lit up the bare grassy slopes, along with Cleaning them off without stopping was behind us. our spirits. A small wind turbine continued even trickier than eating under the mesh. A From the stalker’s cottages and the to turn behind the green iron walls of the

ADVENTURE CYCLIST MARCH 2007 ADVENTURECYCLING .ORG 41 securely locked Alltabeithe youth hostel, but often sadly the case even in such a remote whole place to ourselves. The larger of the from here on out, it would be singletrack location, full of rubbish, with its furniture two rooms was completely empty, and with right through to the west coast. That could broken up and used as firewood, we’d its bare stone floors and walls, freezing cold wait for the morrow, it was already 3:00, and planned to camp close by. Luckily for us, an — although this didn’t seem to bother the two more miles of uphill with a fair bit of altruistic hiker had only left that morning, midges who streamed in through a small pushing would be enough for today. having spent much of the past two days hole high up in the wall. But there were Huddled into the hillside facing the great cleaning up and burning rubbish, even leav - enough nails for our dripping rainwear, and ridge of the Five Sisters of Kintail is the ing a stock of damp firewood. With the with bikes safely garaged, with the aid of fire - Camban Bothy, a tiny mountain refuge. cloud right back down and the midges gath - lighters and kerosene, we soon had a fire Expecting to find it either locked, or as is so ering, we were more than happy to have the blazing and stoves roaring next door. Not that it ever got warm enough to take off my waterproof trousers, but it’s miraculous what a bowl of instant pasta and a dram or Nuts & Bolts: Scotland two of single highland malt will do. Thankfully the midges decided not to crash Maps: the party. The whole route described Having made roughly 2,000 feet of is covered by Ordnance ascent and descent on each of the previous Survey 1:50,000 days, we had less than 100 feet to climb up Landranger Maps 25, 26, from the bothy to the 1,000-foot pass sepa - 34, and 35. www.ordnance rating the Glen Affric and Glen Lichd water - survey.co.uk. sheds. From this mountain pass (or bealach ), it would be all downhill to sea level and the Guidebooks: shores of Loch Duich. After the winds and Peter Koch-Osborne’s excel - torrential rain of the previous night, every lent nine volume series of hollow in the path was a pool or puddle, and hand-drawn guidebooks for as we closed the door of the bothy, the walkers and mountain bik - sounds of running water filled our ears. ers: The Scottish Glens Nothing compared to the night’s excesses, (Cicerone Press), and Ralph but the wind was still gusting playfully as we Storer’s Exploring Scottish made our way along the path, although for Hill Tracks (David and now we were sheltered from the worst of its Charles) contain enough force. In any case, the trail was so twisting, material for a lifetime’s steep, and rocky, that after a mile of repeated exploration — the latter sup - 100 yards on, 100 yards off, the wordless plying a wealth of easy-to- decision was made to walk it. This, however, read historical background was no ordinary walk — sections of the nar - and some inspirational pho - row path zig-zagged steeply down above pre - tographs. cipitous grass slopes and the glistening, ver - Drover’s and General tical walls of waterfall-filled gorges. Even Wade’s Military Roads . without bikes and the ever-present wind, Seems that one of Al’s companions has wandered far off the beaten Until the early eighteenth- you’d need to keep your eyes firmly on the track. century, most highland path’s slippery rocks. Drovers used to bring roads were little more than Major-General George Fortunately others remain cattle up this climb a century ago, en route tracks — many of these Wade, constructed a net - unpaved for us to explore. to Glen Affric and the east. I don’t know owing their existence to work of properly surfaced Scotways www.scotways. how long it took the drovers (nor how many centuries of cattle droving. roads. Ironically, in 1745 it com, [email protected]. A animals were lost on the journey) but it took The continuing Jacobite was these very roads that nonprofit established to us over two hours to come down the three rebellions created the aided the Young Pretender, protect and develop access miles to the Glenlicht climber’s cottage at necessity for better roads Bonnie Prince Charlie, in his to the Scotish countryside. the head of the gravel road to the coast. to facilitate the movement rapid march south into General Travel Info: Four almost flat miles of gravel should of English troops, and from England. Many of these mil - www.visitscotland.com and have been plain sailing, but with the wind 1724 to 1739 the command - itary roads have become www.scotland.org.uk. roaring up the open glen, it was anything er in chief of the army, today’s highways. but. Even in our lowest gears, we sometimes

42 ADVENTURE CYCLIST MARCH 2007 ADVENTURECYCLING .ORG had difficulty moving at all, and it was a head-down struggle every pedal of the way. Some way in front of the others, rounding a small rocky bluff, I was caught sideways by a sudden gust and blown right out of the sad - dle. I struggled to my feet just in time to see the same thing happen first to Kim, then Andy. Somehow we avoided a repeat on the next bend, and suddenly there were the old 1960s Shell petrol signs welcoming us to the town of Morvich. From now on, it would be tarmac all the way. Perched on its rock, the magical castle of Eilean Donnan was only five miles to the north, with the Kyle of LochAlsh bridge over to Skye just beyond that. But our road Classic Scotland. Doubletrack trails crisscross the backcountry of the Highlands. led eastwards — although first we had an urgent appointment with the all-day bacon- Kim’s front rim from early in the second lap of the gods. I don’t care how tired I am, and-egg breakfast at the Kintail Lodge. Then day, and now his rear rim was showing signs how difficult the riding is, or in what condi - it was forty-three miles of mostly tail-winded of splitting, so we opted to follow the tion our rims are, the next time I’ll follow the main road (and two more café stops) back to Inverness road back along the shore of Loch off-road trail. Even if it means the start, crossing our outward route in Glen Ness to Fort Augustus. Narrow, and far too walking the whole way. Moriston. From the head of the glen at slow for impatient holiday drivers anxious to Invermoriston, we could have followed a overtake us at any cost to get up to the Al Churcher is an adventurous cyclist and is the author rough section of the Great Glen Trail exhaust pipe of the next car in front, these of many UK guidebooks including Peak District through the forest back to Fort Augustus. last five miles of busy road were the only Cycling Routes and The Yorkshire Dales . But we’d been concerned with the state of ones where I felt our fate was purely in the

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