A good night’s sleep, an excellent breakfast (thanks to John and his lovely wife Lorraine) and we could set off for the 3rd day of riding in Scotland.
Against all odds, the weather turned out nice for the 3rd day in a row, and short drive brought us to Aviemore, where turned right before going ‚downtown‘ and parked at a nearby camping site. Here the trail - this time indicated by the SatNav feature on André’s GPS device - started on a wide and smooth trail along the camping sites. It takes you along a riverbed through the valley, the Cairngorms looming in the backdrop - a beautiful scenery.
We met a friendly couple and their 2 boys on their bikes. I guess we looked a little misplaced with our rides and gear, so we were asked on where we were going, and upon our reply that we intended to go to ‚Lairig Ghru (having no clue whether exactly WHAT that was nor how it is spelled correctly) we were faced with disbelieving looks. The following conversation and some staring later, it turned out that our attempt would take us only to the foot of the pass being called ‚Lairig Ghru‘, from where we’d descend back again. Somewhere someone mentioned the number ‚11‘ in the whole discussion and so the general belief among me and André was that we’d take an 11km loop. Having settled that we said our goodbyes and happily pedalled on. Soon for the trail cut to the right, but our GPS still telling us to stay on the gravel path. So we did and gravel path some became fire road. Here I think I had the once-in-a-lifetime chance to kill a pheasant by running over it by bike. Fortunate for the beast, I tend not to kill animals if it is possible to avoid (not myself that is, I DO eat meat), and so I approached it slowly and it decided to fly away. Probably the poor bird had anyway just a lifespan of a few days left, looking at the local roads… The fire road taking a pretty steep uphill through the now rockier landscape took us up to a Lodge from where we cut right onto a trail. Still the disgrace of yesterday’s Black Line in FW in mind, a similar mood quickly took hold of myself, as the trail was not steep, but so full of rocks and big boulders that it was unbelievably hard to ride. I had to concentrate 100% on the ground, and so I hit a low branch with full force and completely unprepared. A nasty curse and an equally offensive ringing in my head told me to take a break. For the first time I actually realised the awesome terrain. On that occasion I decided to as well eat one of the bars I was carrying (2 for a day where planned), which turned out to be a brilliant decision as it simnifically improved my mood. So carrying our bikes uphill, we soon reached a junction, here the way went left, further up Lairig Ghru, but our tour should take us to the right and on a great trail down towards where we earlier continued on the gravel road. The trail itself is truly rideable by almost every rider. It can be ridden at high speed as well as there’s no hidden corners or anything and certainly no black features.
Following the gravel path through the valley back to our van, we discussed what to do next. The descent earlier had left me thinking, and after the Black Line disaster in FW, I suggested to close our tour by visiting another bikepark. I checked which one was nearest, and it turned out that Laggan and Glenlivet were both in similar range. That was enough to set us off for
Glenlivet, an hour’s ride being a welcomed rest. So our VW Transporter (brand new by the way, returned with 500mi) cruised us through the truly awesome Spey valley. Passing picturesque Distilleries, of most the names ring a bell because same tolled on that morning after that night were a whisky of the same name MIGHT have been among the drinks… Truly I regret that I was the driver on that stretch (I intend to claim that I am the better wrongside driver than André), I could have stared at the Cairgorms and its snowy peaks for the whole ride.
Laggan and FW had both been easily accessible, so we expected something similar for Glenlivet. When leaving the main road with still several miles to go, André and myself finally found some of the roads of the likes we knew from our trip(s) to Ireland. But seriously, it’s not that bad. Actually it is a nice drive and so we arrived eager and in a good mood, if not a wee bit exhausted on the trail centre’s cafe, parking lot and general facility. Which is parking. And a hut. And a Pumptrack! Would you believe it? Jokes aside, this place is again a great example of how little but well thought-through infrastructure can make such a difference. Said hut contains a cafe, toilets, and provided the weather is on your side you can sit outside on a terrace and watch the scenery and the pumptrack. Thank you, Glenlivet Estate! Before starting off, we decided to go for a drink (guess what, starts with IRN) and a bit (excellent BLT!) to the cafe. There we studied a map of the local trails. There was a blue and red line, both winding around 2 peaks so it seemed. The Red Line being indicated with 22kms in length was a little bit of a shock. Still I could convince André to go for it and so we started of. He never, ever said so, but I know he hates me for it. The trails starts off opposite the cafe right onto Singletrack winding itself to an open forrest, a gravel band almost like a narrow pumptrack, it was great fun, and the temptation to remain calm and not go full speed was hard to resist. Still, knowing there was plenty of uphill to be done, we both took it easy. It turned out that the whole red loop (using some of the blue, too) is mostly meandering trail, both slightly down and up, but all in all easily rideable, some short pieces are on fire road, but those just to get you to next rail entry, which always be close. Still it was hell to get up there. The whole ascent is by far not as demanding of any we had seen the days before, but we were simply done. But with enough power left to go for the fan.tas.tic. downhill. I loved that so much.
Steep is a faraway place in Glenlivet, speed, bumps, berms and turns, that is what you get here. IF you still have the legs to keep momentum. A few black features are on the same line, but they were all within our reach and added to the fun. This was a trail I loved, and if I ever return to Scotland, I am going to start here I think. On the other hand, it was perfect ending as well. The lack of truly technical challenge played in our hands, as the limit of our fitness had been overreached for sure. Knowing to now go home and pack up the rides was actually somehow a relief. We wouldn’t be allowed to be crazy enough to ride another day.In a brilliant mood, counting pheasants dead and alive on the road, we set off towards Kingussie. We still had to pack up, so having washed ourselves we started packing up our bikes and stowed them in the van.
Our good-bye visit to The Tipsy Laird turned out very pleasant, as after dinner an interesting conversation with one of the other guests, an Irishman, began. Somehow that conversation changed topic towards whisky and suddenly we found ourselves in a private whisky tasting with the bar’s owner who shared one or two of his favorites with us.
As with our day’s riding, the evening entertainment ended with nice experience. That night at least.Waking up the next morning was challenging at the least, and breakfast was not something to look for but to dread. Again apologies to John and Lorraine. I hate to waste food, but both André and myself were eating very scarcely that morning. The knowing look on John’s face when we explained the reason for our dampened appetite told us he’d been there, too ;-) So we said our goodbyes to both, thanking for the great hospitality during our stay. We both agree that this was certainly the best B'n'B we each know of (and I really have been in some very good ones), so if you ever feel to go to Kingussie, see if Slemish B'n'B is available.Our trip home should last more than 12 hours, the best of which were spent driving to Edinburgh Airport, drinking in the scenery and discussing our adventure.An awesome holiday has been spent, with some of the best riding I am sure I’ve ever done, and I am grateful to the utmost extend to my lovely wife Nina, which had a tough time tending for the kids alone, while I was off to get myself dirty and bruised. Talking bruises, I am happy to report that neither any technical or other damage has incurred on the bikes nor on ourselves during the whole trip. And we were riding not.a.single.meter. in rain! Seriously! To say that it didn’t rain while we were in Scotland would be a lie, but somehow, it never did so when we were riding. In the text you have just read there’s mentions of trails or features that I did not like. By no means I expect my view to be the only or the only correct one. Each of the trails I have been riding has seen people working hard to build them, or carve them into the mud. So I am grateful for every inch of trails I could enjoy, whether blue, red or black line, whether it was comfort zone or not-there-yet zone, and so to conclude I would like to thank all of these people out there, working to make it possible that people like us can come and have a fantastic time on their bikes.There is many places I would want to go to and ride, many of which I will never see, but still: Scotland, anytime again!
