Monster training

Culbin again

We set off from the boy racer car park in Nairn on dry sandy trails into a biting north wind. We followed a mixture of fire roads and glorious single track resembling a BMX track to Hill 99.We climbed the tower just after sunset and then set off. Neil immediately tumbled down the steps at the bottom of the tower, went over the handlebars and into the stove of two squaddies who were brewing up while in full camoflage. It takes some skill to find the one open flame in 40 square miles of forest. As Culbin settled into darkness , our lights went on and we swooped down the rest of the hill and off into the mysterious forest with only the screaming of thousands of geese for company. We reached the cars wanting more of this wonderful place.


Night terrors

Spring's frigid easterly winds continue but gave us a fine evening for a 10 mile walk up to the Orrin dam. This is a strange stretch of country - wild yet partially industrialised with the tarmac road giving rapid access into the lower reaches of the wilds of Ross. Walking up to the dam gave the feeling of entering a different country where the wildness grew with each step. Strange and empty under a bright moon. We puzzled over a light circling, disappearing and reappearing in the western sky, strange lights on the dam itself and eery noises and screams in the woods. At the dam the wind cut through all my layers and I shivered all the way back to the car. It may not have been just from the cold.

Doon the water

April brings blizzards with the Clyde coast particularly badly hit. The following week I had a fine run of 7 miles of trails on the island of Bute in spring sunshine with views out to a snow plastered Arran. Despite the sun the wind remained biting and enough snow lay on the trail to require some comedy postholing. Variety is the spice of life - but now can we have some warmth?

Four outings to kick off another winter

December now and the sun hits the horizon at just after 3 in the afternoon.  We have had quite bit of snow and the temperature has hovered around freezing for two weeks now. Time to man up and face the winter.

Run

I headed out to the pass of the fair haired lads late in the day as the sun and the temperature sunk low. The trail up to the pass was just covered by snow and was not disturbed by any trace of a boot or a tyre. Occasional fox prints was the closest I got to company. Once at the pass I dropped down the zig-zags on the other side toward the loch. From somewhere out on the water far below I could hear the commentary from the Jacobite cruise boat drifting up in the gloaming. When I reached the forest track I turned and jogged back up with some short recovery stops. Hill reps is the official title but it does not feel much like training when you are out on a path clinging to the side of the great glen high above the loch. The evening was bone cold but beautiful. 

Bike

It took me a good 30 minutes to prepare man and bike for a night out on the snowy trails above the town, I stuck to familiar trails as a concession to my wife's concern at the wisdom of heading out alone in sub-zero temperatures on icy roads. The canal path was a ribbon of silver under my bike light with light snow concealing slick black ice but as long as I made no sudden course changes the wheels adhered well enough to keep me upright. Once in the wood the bike light was thrown around by the powdery snow to create a bright black and white movie of a trail. I stopped at the bench overlooking the town and took it all in for a while. The strange thing was how warm I felt despite the epic frost settling  all around. Every other Invernessian had thought better of it and stayed in to watch River City. I hit some traffic on the rip roaring descent narrowly avoiding a head-on with a deer caught in the headlights and then having to duck to accommodate a quick strafe from a tawny owl. I got back to the house after an hour scarcely able to stop from giggling out loud. Night biking must soon be either taxed or banned - you just cannot have this much fun for free.

Walk

Three of us headed out straight from work to get in a few miles of training for the Monster under the full moon. We headed up the good land rover track from Lynebeg quickly discarding the torches in the bright moonlight. Up on the hill top there was a covering of a couple of inches of crunchy snow giving perfect conditions for night walking. All around snow covered hills glowed in the moonlight as white clouds floating over the jet black valleys. 

It was just too good a night to go home so we trailed out along another track southwards guessing correctly that it would turn back to the road at some point. The detour meant a cold fording of a wee stream and a two mile march up the side of the A9 but it was a small price to pay for such a grand night stolen from the early winter. 

Hills

The exploration of gorgeous Glen Feshie provided another great day out. This one featured 4 sports in one day with cross country and downhill biking, a bit of winter hill walking and the option of a bit of orienteering all provided. 

I biked in from the end of the public road along the perfect tarmac of the estate road to Feshie lodge where the track deteriorates as it passes out into the beautiful meadow at the where the glen turns east. From there a decent track ran up the hill to a small pass leading eventually west to the Gaick forest. After a toughish climb of about 300 metres I discarded the bike and headed off along the track towards Leathad an Tobhain - a Corbett sitting out in the wilds between the old counties of Inverness and Perth. As  reached the intervening hill I was getting a bit concerned about the depth of snow which was now ankle deep. The decision to wear trainers was looking marginal for frost bite. I rationalised that I would be fine as long as I kept my feet dry and then promptly fell into a patch of unfrozen bog up to my knees. Still a bags a bag and I was too close now to turn back. The summit was frigid with a vicious wind seeking out those wet toes so I lingered only long enough to eat my piece and note that the GPS read an interesting 3005 feet. Not a Munro though. Back to the bike for a descent of only 30 minutes to the car. Phew.

While I saw no wildlife at all I did get passed by two argocats and one landrover on the hill track - an outrageous amount of traffic - they might need to consider dualling it. All three stopped to chat continuing the impression of Feshie as one of the better estates. They are by most accounts trying hard.

Great Glen Why?

During my long run on Friday, I was once again reminded of how poor a route the Great Glen Way is.

Anybody coming from a distance to do this route must be sorely disappointed at the mixutre of tarmac, fire track and commercial forestry they have to trog through. Add to this the almost total lack of views of the Loch and it must be quite a let down. The earlier parts are not much better - Fort Augustus to Drum is the same mix of commercial forestry and B roads.

If you are doing the GGW after completing the West Highland Way it will be the sublime to the ridiculous.  The West Highland Way is a natural line stringing together some beautiful areas in a fine route of continual interest. Add in some great wee pubs and it is a fine way to spend a week.

In contrast, the GGW is a lost opportunity. Had it been taken up the south side of the Loch it would have been far superior covering areas like the pass of the fair haired lads and the river side routes mentioned in previous blogs.

But, as with so much in the outdoor arena in Scotland it appears that the actual route is  a compromise between vested interests - landowners limiting access forcing the route into the publicly owned forest and ensuring that walkers have plenty of exposure to Nessie tat even if they rarely see the loch.

The way has some redeeming features such as the lovely section from Invergarry to Fort Augustus but for the walker who wants to really experience the Glen I would suggest the following. Follow the GGW from Fort William to Fort Augustus to get the best of it but then  get the bus to Whitebridge and complete the walk to Inverness using the lightly trod paths of the South Loch Ness Trail,

It also has its limitations but it tries much harder.

Nipping out for a quick pint

Our upside down spring continues with April resembling January with northerly air flows dragging snow showers down to low levels. The lengthening days mean warmth while the sun shines but when it drops below the horizon winter comes back. Interesting times and it makes packing for a 20 mile evening ride a bit of a challenge. 

I took to the south side of the river again up through the town and climbing out through a progression of suburban woods, farm land, forestry and then moors to a track high above the glen with unique views down the full length of the loch. The south side route meant maximum sunshine as I battered on through hypodermic gorse bushes. It cannot be long before the fashion for shorts in mountain biking dies a death but not before my shins are permanently skinned. 

Eventually, a path dives off to the right into the woods in the direction of the loch. A twisty, flowing singletrack plunges downwards towards Dores; it's a Goldilocks trail - not too hard,not too easy...just right and in the deep dark woods. After a glorious 5 minute rip I emerged grinning on the main road and cruise into the pub car park spattered in mud and a fair bit of gorse extracted blood. You really wonder what people think. 

The English based bike magazines always seem to feature beer but the opportunities on Highland night rides are few and far between. So sitting down in the beer garden of the Dores Inn with a pint in my hand and a view down the loch is a rare and fine moment. As I set out again the sun set over the steep hills across the loch and the temperature plummeted. From here the route roughly follows the River Ness through a mixture of estate roads, the odd baroque castle, some fine winding single track with nice short climbs and swoops through lovely open bluebell woods. I reached Inverness slightly blissed out - if you had a big box of trail building Lego and wanted to construct a perfect midweek ride from your front door this would be the result. 

Pass of the fair haired lads

A longish half run and half hike through a stretch of country on the south side of the loch that was new to me. The route included a fair length of forestry road which rose at a gentle angle to the edge of a green tunnel of trees which only opens out at the tiny pass itself. It barely qualifies as a pass until you get over the brow and catch the wide views down to Loch Ness and beyond to the snow capped mountains north and west of the Great Glen. The view is part pastoral, taking in the fields and farms of Glen Urquhart, part urban out to Inverness and part wilderness out to the Affric hills and the Monadliath lining the horizon. This day it was stunning and I had to to stop to take some photos and drink it up for a while. The air moving gently up from the loch felt warm and smelt of vanilla from the yellow gorse in the woods below.

The route plunged down into the woods below on a ladder of zig-zags where the path did not appear much travelled and was mostly grassed over. The steeply pitched curves eventually gave way to a long downward rake of green forest track getting deeper and darker as it headed down towards the lochside. Then, tucked in at the edge of the path I saw my first wild primroses of the year and was forced to stop for yet another photo. These wee Scottish wildflowers always instill a sense of hope in me - their colour, their timing and the way they respond to sunlight make them a concrete proof of spring.

The forest road opened out into a more prosaic commercial forest for a few miles, passing old ruined crofts moss covered and half submerged in the larch and Sitkas. The road then branched into a wide route running downward and a more over grown upward trail. I was heading up but stopped first to treat a wee blister at the broad junction. Above and behind me was a margin of the forest which had taken a real battering in the recent gales with at least half the trees leaning over or blown down completely. The remaining trees creaked, cracked and groaned like wild animals. Even in midday sunlight it was an alarming noise and I mentally crossed this route off my list for winter night outings.

The forest and the wide road ended at Erchite farm which is split into an abandoned wester and a thriving easter which both share an unrivalled view up the glen to the Moray Firth and down the loch to Drum and beyond. I followed an increasingly boggy and sketchy path up through new scraggy forestry clinging to the crags. The road eventually just ended in what looked like a turning circle hanging above a gorge. There was no obvious route but I could just see some open moor a few hundred meters up through the forest. No choice but to bushwhack up through the ripping and tearing wind fall until it eventually opened out into equally tricky steep heather. I wheezed upwards to a small summit and then on to the cairn of Beinn a Bhataich. It had turned a fair bit colder as I climbed but it was still a surprise when a squall rose over the shoulder from the loch and fell as a short but dramatic snowstorm.  

From the summit all that remained was a short rough descent to the road and a 2 mile jog back to the car in the warm westering sun. 

A nice round for the first half with much to like - the wee pass itself, the rocky conglomerate crags which point to the violence of the formation of the Glen itself, 3 seasons in 3 hours and the all pervading scent of spring. 

However, I plan to look for alternative endings for next time.

 

A night run with Nessie

I spent the working day window gazing as the February sun made a short arc across a sky of clean, inviting spring blue. On such a day the only answer to the tedium of work is to plan your escape and shortly after 4pm I was in my running gear and in the car.

I pulled up at the Clansman with a full 60 minutes of daylight for an 80 minute run but with the insurance of a really, really bright headtorch. The path climbs up steep and straight through beautiful winter woods of oak, pine and birch in a diagonal rake for just over half a mile before it opens out on the right to views of the loch below. Beyond the loch a creamy three quarter moon had risen over the Monadliath and was starting to cast light and shade through the trees. Not a breath of wind stirred the woods as I jogged up the green path.

A rougher section followed, snaking a steep but simple path through the low crags at the top of the wood ending at a grassed over track where the climbing stopped for a while. I could run for a few minutes until a right turn onto a footpath pointed me upwards again, climbing with hands on thighs and burning lungs. The path was wetter now and ice cold melt water seeped into my shoes. Then across the fire track and onto a rough path across the open hillside where views of the deepening shadows down to the loch and out towards Dores opened up, The blue above deepened as first Venus and then Jupiter winked into view. Head down and feeling good I battered on for the top of Carn na Leitre ignoring the broadening views to secure the big reveal at the summit. I made an effort up the last slope and then stopped the watch, got jacket, hat and gloves on before I looked around.

Half the Highlands were laid out around me – Wyvis floated in the north, a white whale in the ink blue shadow ocean of the Aird. To the west the usual jumble of peaks were silhouetted against a thin strand of yellow horizon beyond the cloudy edge of the warm front forecast for the weekend. To the south Orion had risen with Sirius snapping at his heel. Silence thickened around me with the gathering dark. I tore myself away form it all and ran down towards the Great Glen Way where a thin layer of hard snow still lay across the trail. Ten minutes on I had to accept that night had fallen and turned on the torch where the path left the fire road and dived down into the wood of Corryfoyness.

Five minutes running under full beam brought me out at a small bench seat poised on the edge of the crags above Loch Ness. I sat down and took the night in. The moonlight fell unimpeded on the rumpled blanket of black water. It was 6 o'clock on a Friday night in February and absolutely no one else was out here. Inverness showed orange beyond the northern arm of the loch where people were making meals, gathering in pubs, driving home. I had this glorious place completely to myself with the likely exception of whatever was causing that wake across the water 1000 feet below. But night running makes any such view a cold comfort so I shivered off down the rocks into the trees where the mineshaft steep path led me down into the dark woods to the lochside.