Biking Blues Through The Blair and Bridge of Weir

We decided on an earlier start for this Saturday's bike run, partly because we wanted to get some extra miles under our belts, and more accurately, because we're all running scared of our partners and need to get back home by lunchtime on a Saturday. Well, there's shopping to do, isn't there??? The bright lights and sports shops of Braehead were beckoning for me, and like a moth to a flame, I was compelled to set the controls for the heart of the mall.

Anyway, on a rain-free, if not cold and damp morning, we set off as usual from Dalgarven - Colin, Alistair and myself (Gav was working and Stevie taking a rain check) and headed up the steep hill behind the mill, striking out for the Blair and Garnock Valley on Route 7. This route is so well trodden by us all now, as we've passed this way many times before, but it's familiarity never seems to diminish our enjoyment of this quiet wee country road. Alistair was sporting a new helmet (!!!) due to a fall earlier in the week during his commute to work and Colin was finding it difficult to get a breath in the damp conditions. Yours Truly was just trying to keep up, after a long winter of inactivity and an inclination to consume too many cakes! Bring on Castle Semple cafe!

The weather seemed to brighten up as the morning progressed and before long we found ourselves passing Castle Semple at 8.50, determined to reach Bridge of Weir as our half way point before turning tail to head back to Semple for the culinary delights and coffee of our much-frequented watering hole. Colin was setting a blistering pace by this point in the morning, whilst Alistair and I towed each other along quite a distance behind by taking turns leading and then drafting.

Being able to draft another cyclist by riding close to their rear wheel means that you are sheltered and tucked in an air pocket where you are no longer pushing through the air that the lead rider is breaking (and believe me, Alistair can break wind!). Consequently, you are literally being carried along by the eddy of forward moving air directly behind the leader, and therefore using 20-40% less energy. This technique really worked well for us today and we weren't too far behind Colin by the time we rolled up at the cafe.

After the customary coffee, sweet stuff and cycling banter at the Lochwinnoch pit stop, we set out for the home leg suitably refreshed, if a little cold and tired. By this time the wind was now facing us and fairly fresh, ensuring we were suitably tested on the hilly home strait. Achengree hill proved challenging, providing a stern test of character and weakening the muscles before it's smaller siblings flexed their biceps in the Blair estate, and we arrived again at Dalgarven in dire need of food, liquid and rest - pity we had a serious afternoon's shopping in prospect. Braehead? Bring it on!

New Boots on Ben Lawers

I got up at 4.45am this morning, had a quick porridge and a brew, before heading out onto the extremely foggy road to Killin to climb Ben Lawers. A previous attempt at this hill was a complete washout, with only the summit of Bein Ghlas being reached before beating a hasty retreat, broken but unbowed!

Thankfully, today's weather was cold and crisp - just the way I like it, and as I arrived somewhat early in the car park, I decided just to go for it and see the sun come up on the hill. So, head torch on, I ventured forth on icy tracks out onto the open hillside. I must admit to being a wee bit uptight this
morning, as I was trying out a new pair of boots (Scarpa Manta) for the first time, and they had felt a
touch tight when I tried them on at home. However, my fears soon melted away, as they felt just fine
on the move. I have a couple of other pairs of Scarpas and they are right for my feet, so stands to reason that the Mantas should be okay.

I purchased the Mantas, as I was looking for a winter boot that would take step-in crampons. My Scarpa SLs didn't have the groove above the heel and my Scarpa Vegas were okay on technical routes, but overkill on straightforward walks.

Sunrise across Loch Tay

Early cloud on the summit

So, boots feeling good, body in reasonably good shape, of sound mind and starved of winter action due to crap weather, I breezed up Bein Ghlas in no time at all and barely paused for breath before pressing onward to Ben Lawers. The sun came up in the east, across Loch Tay, which was obscured by cloud from a temperature inversion. Here on the hill, early cloud was lifting, the sun was burning through and all was well with the world. I had the hill all to myself and the only sound to be heard was the Ptarmigan, which due to their winter plumage, I couldn't see. Some spindrift danced magically around the rim of the Corrie below and the cloud that had been clinging to the summit of Lawers scudded away to reveal the mountain in all its winter grandeur - whit a day to be oot and about!

View from the summit, looking north

There are two pillars at the summit of the mountain, atop a raised section - I think the story goes that
they tried to artificially elevate the hill to 4000 foot status - idiots! That aside, Ben Lawers is
officially the 10th highest Scottish mountain and really should need no outside assistance to display its beauty. Additionally, easy access to the hill from a high car park, coupled with NTS status has
meant that a lot of path work has been undertaken, leading to high visitor numbers. And as I began
my descent, I discovered that many others had opted to shake off the Christmas turkey and try out all the new gear that Santa had bestowed upon them. Can't really complain though, the solitude was good while it lasted.

Bright enough for shades!

Finally, lots of tricky wee icy bits on the path, cleverly disguised with a sugar coating of snow, ensured that getting back to car was eventful, as I was too lazy to get the crampons on. All in all, an excellent day and well worth a re-visit outwith monsoon season. Ben Lawers - winter garb suits you better than a raincoat!

It's So Worth It!

The first pitter-patter of raindrops had just started rolling down the window. The sky had clouded over and changed into a dark shade of grey as I changed into my bike gear. The house was warm, there was football on the telly, the Sunday newspaper lay invitingly on the kitchen table and the smell of fresh coffee permeated my cosy, secure, living space -  it was enough to make a person decide on discretion being the better part of valour and choose to stay put. But we're made of sterner stuff in this household - oh yes! As I made my way to the garage to collect my trusty steed, I took a deap breath and reminded myself that choosing to be outdoors was, more often than not, the correct decision and I would always feel invigorated and alive after a challenging bike ride in adverse conditions.

I opted for the most traffic-free route I could dream up, which meant venturing onto the back roads and countryside between Kilwinning and Barrmill - undulating rural Ayrshire: hardcore! And so, rolling across the viaduct towards Dalgarven, the journey began promisingly, as bright sunshine pierced the dreaded cumulo nimbus, illuminating the way ahead and pulling me magnetically towards Highfield (I say 'pulling me' - what I mean, in actual fact, is that there was a fairly decent tail wind!).

It was one of those days when it was a bonus just to feel that the correct decision had been made and that the great outdoors really was the only place to be. I felt fresh, happy, excited and curious all rolled into one. The surface water sprayed up my backside and the slippy road surface toyed with my nerves on the steep downhill sections, but, undeterred, I sped on, swerving adeptly to avoid a perilous pothole and steadying the handlebars as I rounded a sharp bend, praying I wouldn't take a nasty tumble. On reaching the halfway point, it was time for a selfie:

Taking time-out

The rest of the journey passed in a flash, as I was 'in the zone'. I had found my own personal rhythm, where momentum was seemingly effortless and my bike ate up the miles like a two-wheeled Pac Man, even though I was now headed into a stiff headwind. At times like these it's hard to wipe the smug grin from your face. You feel nothing but pity for the rest of the non-cycling world, realising that bikes are indeed the only way to travel and that you wouldn't miss out on this experience for anything (okay, well maybe the snow-covered Carn Mor Dearg Arete, or Buachaille Etive Mor……or new tarmac from here to Coylumbridge, or a new pair of Scarpa Mantas!). Well...almost anything!

Happiness is a warm bike!

One Fine Day on Conic Hill

Sometimes the best hills are the wee hills.

Sometimes the best weather is bad weather.

Sometimes the best company is the underdog.

And sometimes, just sometimes, the combination of all of the above leads to one fine day.

Well, one wet and windy day I took a bunch of guys on a trip to the Bonnie Banks of Loch Lomond, meaning to walk part of the John Muir way between Balloch and Croftamie. The route between Balloch and Croftamie is a pretty mundane stretch of the Way, consisting of winding tarmac back-roads along what is Route 7 of the national Cycle Network. Today's weather consisted of frequent very heavy showers and a touch of wind thrown into the mix for good measure. It didn't seem like a good day to be outdoors and during the journey north we discussed altering our plans. By the time we reached Dumbarton we had decided that a short hill walk was a better option than trudging along a monotonous road for four and a half hours. The decision was made to head for Balmaha and climb Conic Hill, which would take no more than an hour to the top, even when age and fitness were factored in.

The bunch of guys I brought along were a collection of unemployed men from the Garnock Valley area of North Ayrshire, ranging in age from 18 - 60, all of them more than keen to get outdoors (even in today's lousy weather I had a full minibus!) and all of them in good spirits. Despite the nasty weather, none of them complained.

We rolled into the car park at Balmaha, got everyone kitted out and fired up the stoves for a brew, before heading into the woodland and onto the West Highland Way. The weather, at this point, was fairly benign and as we climbed through the mature woodland we stopped frequently to ensure the group stayed together. Morale was high, even if fitness and inclination were less so, and as we emerged laughing onto the open hillside and began to negotiate a steep set of steps, the heavens opened. The ensuing deluge resulted in some very wet and bedraggled walkers, two of whom had disregarded advice and left behind the waterproof trousers they'd been issued with back at the car park.

Counting the growth rings : 220

However, before long the rain subsided and the guys really started to enjoy themselves. And as we reached a particularly prominent vantage point, the clouds parted, the sun came out and the views across the southern end of Loch Lomond were nothing short of magnificent. Everyone, including the more experienced members of the party, were suitably impressed.

"How glorious a greeting the sun gives the mountains" John Muir

On the descent, just as we were ambling through the mature woodland again, one of the guys said to me "It's great this, innit?" "Yeah," I replied, "This is Scotland. This is your country!"

It's days like these that make all my work worthwhile. Struggling through wind and rain, heads down, digging in, before the big yellow ball in the sky decides to burst through the grey canopy of misery to reveal creation in all its glory - bang! There's light at the end of the tunnel. Bang! The way ahead becomes clear. Bang! Life ain't quite so bad after all. Its all been worthwhile and everything combined has been leading to this one beautiful moment of clarity and freshness.

Now, the challenge is: to create something similar in all of our lives. Let's make it count! Let's keep going when the going is tough and circumstances combine to make the pathway ahead difficult and unclear. Let's not give up and let's strive to climb out of the dark tunnel and into the light

Biking the John Muir Way: Section 2, Balloch to Strathblane

The John Muir Way is a new long distance footpath running through the central belt from Helensburgh on the west coast through to Dunbar, Muir's birthplace, in the east. What I like about this route, as opposed to other long distance trails, is that it's very accessible for a huge percentage of the population and should hopefully encourage more people to get outdoors and appreciate nature as a result. I've decided to cycle the route in stages, as it's all negotiable on two wheels.

For section 2, I started out just around the corner from Mcdonalds in Balloch, in a steady drizzle, hopeful of drier weather as the day wore on - the forecast said so anyway. This point was where I left off last time after section one from Helensburgh to Balloch. From here the route runs through the Loch Lomond Shores shopping centre (ouch!) and skirts the side of the loch through Balloch country park, where it heads steeply uphill to bypass the front of the castle.

Heading up the side of the loch into Balloch Country Park

It's well signposted, with wee John Muir Way stickers, markers and way posts at regular intervals along the route. The only danger is if you're travelling too fast on two wheels and lose concentration, which I did a couple of times. But for the most part you're following National Cycle Network's Route 7 on back roads, and wending your way toward the throbbing metropolis that is Croftamie,  a one-horse town, where the horse just died! Still, a charming wee spot to stop for a banana and an isotonic boost.

JM Wayposts in Balloch

Show me the way to Croftamie

Not long after Croftamie I was faced with a narrow steel bridge over Endrick Water. At first glance I was all for just battering across it on the bike, but on second thoughts I dismounted and walked over. Well, you never know if a bridge is safe unless you've tested it first, and that's much easier to do on foot. Anyway, it was solid enough, if still a wee bit unnerving, and I resolved to go for broke on the way home.

Hairy Bridge

The route continues along Route 7 until around Gartness (shortly after which I zoomed past the bit where the route joins the West Highland Way - my excuse is that an inconsiderate motorist had parked in front of the gate and sign!!!) and then it's 'Gate City' on the WHW for what seems like ages. It was also really busy with walkers heading north for their eventual destination of Fort William and I was thankful for my bell, especially on the return leg as I was approaching people from the rear - at least some kind souls held the occasional gate open for me.

There's a really rough, steep section on the route, somewhere near Arlehaven and some standing stones (although I had my head down and didn't see the stones - even on the home leg - there were enough stones on the track to negotiate, and this required some concentration) and there were a couple of points where, I have to admit, I got off and walked - luckily enough no one was around to witness this act of cowardice and I made short work of the downhill sections, with a couple of close shaves here and there thrown in for good measure. I hang my head in shame after watching Neko Mulally's 2014 World Championships chain-less downhill ride in Norway - check it out on Youtube.

Looking towards Dumgoyne, Campsies

Thereafter, it was a rather wet and bedraggled soul who hurtled doon the Cuilt Brae into Strathblane, with the rain still steadily falling and not much shelter in sight. On arriving at the A81, I did momentarily consider the comforts of a local hotel for lunch, but settled instead for a nice bus shelter, as I needed a quick turnaround and time was of the essence. Ah well, at least I'd had the foresight to pack a spare base layer and a nice wee Montane Pertex windproof top.

                                      

Time to start the return journey and head for home, with dry clothing and the rain abating - happy days! The only issue with this route is that it's linear, with not many opportunities to loop back to your start point, if you're doing it in individual sections. I suppose it's meant to be undertaken linearly anyway, as one long 134 mile route, so no point moaning about it Stewarty boy - geronwithit! The return journey took somewhat longer than the outward leg, owing to a pair of aching legs and a less than comfy bike seat, and I meandered my way slowly back through Croftamie and headed again for Balloch.

A few miles the other side of Croftamie, I was joined by a fellow cyclist heading for Dumbarton and decided that a wee blether would be just what the doctor ordered, seeing as how my legs seemed to be made of lead at this point. My new biking buddy goes by the name of Leah, and we struck up a great conversation on the way into Balloch. Cycling can be such a sociable pastime and there's always plenty to talk about and I was grateful for some company on the home strait.

Leah

Tough Cookie: Beinn Nan Aighenan

A favourable forecast Thursday afternoon into Friday prompted me to head for the hills and squeeze in a wee wilderness camp before the weekend proper. So, I packed enough grub, stove, sleeping bag and tent and headed north straight from work on Thursday, as I had Friday off seeing as it was my first week back. A gentle introduction back to work always helps, especially as Monday - Thursday had gone particularly well, and I zoomed up the A82 in a good mood and very much looking forward to what lay in store.

"Climb the mountains and get their good tidings" John Muir

Similarly, a gentle introduction to my wee micro-adventure meant that I headed into Glen Kinglas from Forest Lodge, only as far as beautiful Loch Dochard, where I pitched ma wee wan-man tent in a bit of a hurry as the bloodthirsty midges were intent on mainlining my supply of RH Negative. Once inside and armed with a copy of The Times, I whiled away the next hour reading by torchlight - very civilised! Then, once the hungry cloud of Culicoides Impunctatis had dissipated, I got the stove fired up and tucked into a very tasty chilli from Mountain House, which was nearly as good as the pasta lasagne I'd sampled recently on my Lairig Ghru trip. Consequently, it was a very full and satisfied adventurer who climbed into his sleeping bag at the ridiculous hour of 9.00pm to get some shut-eye in preparation for the morrow. No need to set the alarm, the early dawn daylight of late summer would rouse me from slumber for the prompt start required on an epic day.

On the walk-in, at dusk

An idyllic spot! Loch Dochard.

Beinn Nan Aighenan is usually tackled from Glen Etive, as part of a smash and grab including Ben Starav et al, as other approaches involve a rather long walk-in. Makes sense really - drive all the way down the tortuous Glen Etive road and make things easy for yourself. Unfortunately, however, I wasn't in the mood for an easy ride and planned to head up Coire na Caime to the col between Glas Bheinn Mhor and Beinn Nan Aighenan, before heading in a southerly direction to the summit.

A glorious day in prospect

I woke around 6.00am. The combined efforts of dawn and a squadron of ducks undertaking take-off and landing procedures on Loch Dochard put paid to any hopes of a lie in on my super-comfy Thermarest (getting the correct level of inflation is key!). Instead, I got a brew on and scoffed an apple and cinnamon cereal bar, followed by a Fredo (chocolate in the morning, I hear you say, aghast!). However, normal nutritional rules don't apply when I'm on mountain manoeuvres, as I relish the opportunity to break free of the strictures of normality and resurrect old school rules, namely - the spirit of 'custard before main course' (lest it gets cold). It's a state of mind!

Morning has broken!

An epic day it turned out to be too, as there was no path up Coire na Caime and I found myself following the Clashgour estate's all-terrain vehicle tracks - an extremely boggy experience! In fact, I think that this corrie is the wettest place on earth! No, really! 

Additionally, the fact that, in my haste I'd forgotten to pack my gaiters, meant that my lower legs were saturated pretty much from the off. Thank goodness for Gore-Tex boots! Anyways, almost three hours later I crested the col, located a proper path and made a beeline for the summit.

Summit pic

Only half an hour later saw me summiting what proved to be a tough cookie. Elated, I strode the final few yards to the top, when something caught my eye: a laminated sheet of paper, folded and stuffed under a boulder in the summit cairn. I removed the paper to discover a rather touching tribute to a young guy who had passed away - he obviously loved the hills, and the person who laid the tribute had gone to a lot of trouble to reach this remote spot. Turns out it was his dad - made me quite emotional. Oh, and the Golden eagle circling the summit added a certain poignancy to the occasion. Wow!!!

Touching tribute

However, the only trouble with long and troublesome walk-in is that you have to walk back out again, so I turned tail and headed downhill into Coire na Torture and re-aquainted myself with deep, tussocky grass and the Tolkienesque 'Dead Marshes'. By the time I'd re-located the tent and trekked back out to Forest Lodge, I'd been on my feet for over eight hours, with a quick ten minute lunch stop.

A Day of Two Halves on Ben Vane

It's been quite some time since my last blog and it seems like ages since Rach and I were on Arran to climb Goat Fell. Weather was a bit different from the day on Arran, at least the first half of the day anyway. The forecast was for rain and wind to hang around most of the morning and vacate the tops by early afternoon. However, due to a prior engagement, we were due back in the real world by 5.00pm and had to make an early start. So, having left the house at 6.45am, we found ourselves at Inveruglas, ready for the off at 8.15am. The weather was pants, but this is what it's all about: the desire to head for the hills is strong, there's an excitement about heading up the Loch Lomond road, craning your neck to see where the cloud base is. Or even not having to crane, as the base is so low, as to require no extraordinary neck manipulation - it was an in between sort of day today. On a scale of 1-5, with 1 being clear blue skies and 5 being cloud almost at loch level, we were sitting somewhere around a 3.5.

Hill Happy!

Today's outing was to climb Ben Vane (last blogged about in January, when I ventured out on my own). This was Rachel's 5th Munro and we couldn't wait around for good weather any longer, forecast or no forecast (we had a prior engagement and had to be home by tea time) it was now or never, and so we strode up the tarmac track past the dismantling of the old electricity sub station and replacement of same with another, highly modern, installation.

To be honest, there's not a lot that can be said to describe the first half of our outing, enveloped in cloud and drizzle as we were for the entire morning. Suffice to say that we struck up another 'name that US state and it's capital' game again, idling away the time as we slowly gained elevation. And as we rose to the challenge of reaching that higher state, geographically speaking, we simultaneously scaled the heights of our combined (limited) intellect, as the game morphed into alphabetical lists of bands and names (yeah, really!!!).

At the summit

Plenty of false summits later, and with some tricky wee crags negotiated, despite the slippery wet rock, we emerged at the true summit, happed up against the wind and rain and looking for a quick turnaround. We managed a couple of photos before heading back downwards to find a more sheltered spot for lunch.

Selfie at the summit

And then, on our descent, the clag slowly started to lift, revealing the beautiful day that had remained hidden from view all morning. Good things come to those who wait!

Blue skies up yonder

So bright now, my eyes taking time to adjust.

Needless to say, the way down was a tad more pleasant than the ascent, and we managed to scoff some rolls, crisps and lashings of chocolate - it's all good!

Sporting some go faster stripes and soaking up the rays

Sometimes the rewards are hard-earned, but they're always welcomed and appreciated, and a wee bit of sunbathing was in order before we headed back down the track from Corriegrogain to Inveruglas.