Loch Ericht: a cycling expedition

In Dalwhinnie, when you get off the train, you are already almost in the middle of nowhere — a few houses and a distillery seem to warrant the existence of a train station there.

On the train, a lovely Scotrail conductor gave us tips on how to secure the bikes, while noting that “the weather is the weather”, meaning that cold or rain should not stop us from going outdoors — we wholeheartedly agreed!

We pedalled in to the more remote areas of Loch Ericht with relative ease, until our progress was slowed by fords — stream crossings where we had to get off the bikes and carefully step over the slimy stones and the fast-running water. Our pace was further hindered by the terrain getting rougher and rougher as we went. We were far from the usual walker’s route. It was raining on and off all day, but it wasn’t too cold.

At the treacherous corbett of An Dún, we finally came to a complete stop. As we learned a few days later, “An Dún” means “The Fort” in Gaelic - a fitting name, for our efforts to conquer it were futile. The rocky hillside was steep and slippery, even without having to manage a fully loaded mountain bike from boulder to boulder. Swarming midges pestered us which contributed to the feeling of us not being welcome there.

Not wanting to risk slipping on the steep rocks, turning back seemed like the only option. We navigated back, painstakingly retracing our steps, loosing morale and our progress.

Approaching the evening hours, we found a wide stretch of pebbly beach. We decided to camp there, where we found relief in the temporarily calm weather and beautiful, long sunset. The shore of the loch was by far the best option for sleeping: being far from the wet vegetation, midges were relatively few. We pitched our tent, cooked and ate dinner, then fell asleep almost immediately.

The following morning, we pressed on in pouring rain and strong wind. We left the Pass of Drumochter, the highest point of the National Cycling Network in Scotland.

A problem, much bigger than rain, manifested itself in Eszter having no brakes on her bike, at all. The rubber brake-pads were absolutely obliterated from the heavy use during the trip, and they provided no stopping power. Downhill rides are risky business if you can’t slow down, so this was a somewhat stressful period.

We could hardly believe when we arrived to Blair Atholl — a familiar village with a small train station. Sadly, we could not take our bikes on the train, the train being “full” with one other bike (this particular Scotrail service only supporting 2 bike spaces per train — a disgrace to a country which strives for a more sustainable future), so we were forced to leave our bikes on the platform and took the train home.

Surprisingly, the following day, the bikes were still there, just moved to the safety of the parking area by a kind, unknown person. I locked them down for an eventual trip, which we made today, after repairing the brakes on the spot. Today’s was a nice ride as well, although totally different in nature: more an idyllic cycling in the countryside rather than an adventurous expedition.