Red Bull – Mini Drome – Glasgow

October 4th, 2011 • Cycling

Roller Twist

August 15th, 2011 • Cycling

To celebrate the inception of a new shed syndicate, I felt it was time to exercise the demons from my old shed. I love sheds and all they can be, they are magnificently simple refuges of dirt, oil, sweat and blood.

Last winter during a particularly low-ebb in life I set about punishing myself on some rollers. Riding rollers is odd. You go nowhere, you have to concentrate to remain upright. Constantly pedalling to stay in the same place; a dark, freezing shed in Clydebank.

So here’s to the new shed may it be a jewel in the crown of life’s simple pleasures.

Return to the North West

August 1st, 2011 • Camping, Cycling, Mountainbiking, Rock Climbing

It’s never enough to satisfy the craving but for a few days at least it’s all there, and you with it.

Back to the Homelands

June 8th, 2011 • 3 comments Cycling, Mountainbiking, Mountains
Tags: go pro, heed in the clood, homelands, inverness shire, kilmorack, Mountainbiking, n8, scotland, spad

Filmed in the hills above where i grew up in Kilmorack, Inverness Shire – a place where I’ve spent lots of time learning how to ride Mountain Bikes. When visiting family now, I still like to head out for a bike ride up in the backwoods of my old stomping ground. I thought it was about time a bit of it was captured behind a lens since it’s had such a big influence on my life. The trails are not particularly technical but very fast and flowing so great if you want to get some speed up… plus its a fantastic place to get a lung full of fresh air and a panoramic from the Moray firth to Glen Strathfarrar.

SPAD

Brig O’turk to Strathyre

November 16th, 2010 • 2 comments Cycling, Mountainbiking, Mountains

So with the girlfriend and the kids going visiting in Strathyre I took the chance to ride over from Brig O’Turk. The first section up Gleann nam Meann was well known after it had been done in the other direction a matter of weeks ago by a crew of us – see glenfinglas post.
The climb was long but not unpleasant with plenty of loose steep bits to keep you on your toes. Once near the top and still bearing north you join the faint , but perceptible path – which has a nice carved signpost to Balquhidder to mark it’s head.  At 408m you’re in the foot of the big hills and there’s a real sense of wilderness going down the brilliantly named Glen Shoinnie. The trail is natural, wet and has the slipperiest rocks I’ve come across in a long time. The riding is hard going with lots of burn crossings and super technical bits. The rocks caused so many offs, there was just no way to avoid them and hitting them anything other than square on resulted in washing out. This was however great fun and a real challenge and by far the highlight of the trip. Swinging right at a big nose of rock, joining the Fathan Glinne which had views up to the west of snow filled corries and peaks. The path down here was equally challenging with little paps undulating along it length high above the river, it was probably wetter and boggier than the path before and presented some pretty stiff challenges in slow speed bike handling skills, verging on trials at points, I fell of repeatedly.
Joining the road at Glen Buckie and passing through a couple of cattle farms a another handy sign pointed the way to the very faint path that skirts the summit of Beinn a t-Sidhein to Strathyre. This was a bike a hike affair and keeping the path was difficult, once levelling out near the shoulder it was ridable but more or less just hacking across open hillside. The view down Loch Lubnaig showed a swathe of peaks that look bigger than the map would suggest. The descent down to Strathyre looked amazing on the map and started out with an excellent pitted singletrack through open woods, just as I reached the tree line proper and the descent was due to get steeper I was assaulted by the apocalyptic scene of forestry operations. The track was descimated, hidden under a blanket of murdered Spruce, I was a bit miffed (but we all need wood and paper). Skittering down the tracks made by heavy plant catepillar tracks was pretty entertaining however and although it wasn’t the steep wooded singletrack i’d hoped for it was good craic, if a tad muddy.
I’ll definetly be back to Glen Shoinnie in the dry if i can, it’s a great wee ribbon of mtb joy.

Here’s the route.

Devil’s Staircase / Ciaran Path

November 11th, 2010 • Cycling, Mountainbiking, Mountains
Tags: blackwater dam, ciaran, devils staircase, kinlochleven, Mountainbiking, outdoor, scotland, sorley, spad, video

The Devil’s Staircase was apparently named by General Wades soldiers because of the difficulties of carrying building materials along it – its a steep, rough, rocky path which is dangerous and unrelenting… and thats why its great for mountain biking! Well going down it anyway.
We left Glasgow early and congregated with the rest of the 9 strong group at the bottom of the Staircase. The climbing is tough from the offset, but great for getting the circulation going on a cold November morning. We made it to the cairn in pretty good time and so we continued to fire down the first of the fantastic descents on the route. Very fast singletrack, with lots of different lines to choose from and wee jumps if you wish to get in the air for a moment… So far there had only been one puncture, which is pretty good out of 9 on a rough path like this. We turned right and cycled along the huge concrete piping that leads you up to impressive Blackwater Dam.
The next section is the Ciaran path which is 8kms of rough and very technical downhill. There we’re a number of bogs to jump over, as well as 1 or 2 ‘over the handlebar’ maneuvers… but no big injuries! A few broken spokes, a bent derailleur hanger and another puncture though… Eventually we made it to Kinlochleven for a coffee stop. Only 3 wanted to do the return journey. The others had decided to to take the long route by road and meet at the Clachaig Inn. Bowie, Sorley and myself headed back up towards the devils staircase. It was getting dark but as long as nothing went wrong then we would be back at the car soon… of course something went wrong! The path claimed another inner tube and so we spent ages trying to mend it with crap repair patches… after much faffage and eventual success, we set off down the staircase with bike lights on full beam. My hands we’re now completely numb, but it didn’t matter as the descent back to the car in the pitch black took no time at all and was amazing.

SPAD

Dance like a frog

October 14th, 2010 • 2 comments Cycling, Mountainbiking

I rather like this picture of Chad hoping about like a frog.  Of course he didn’t mean to be doing that  …it just turned out he looked like that as he was falling off his bike.

Tour de Ben Nevis

October 11th, 2010 • Cycling, Mountainbiking

After many preparation rides, clambering up hills and trying to bang out 50+km loops here and there the build up to the ‘Tour’ had been enjoyable. Many bits of previously un-discovered mountain trail had been scoured and revelled in now the big event was here and so I set scrabbling about to get my shit together and on to the start line. With the kids in tow I headed up to meet my parents and sister (as it was my Mums birthday) in a holiday cottage on the south side of loch linnhe. Now parenting two young children and getting ready for an endurance race do not make for a very stress free existence but i digress. Needless to say I arrived at the start line faffing wildly with waterproofs, tools and food, meeting Spad, Robin and Simon in the start crowd helped calm me a little and then; we were off! The peleton sped down the dual carriageway to the west end round-a-bout and then the race started in earnest as we swung off up to Blarmachfoldach. The pace was high and Spad quickly climbed away from me. I was starting to feel a little over dressed as the heat built up under the waterproofs and I tried to eek out a decent rhythm and get up the hills without to much fluster. It’s a long ride in, the road is steep and undulating and it quickly sorts the wheat from the chaff as the field was rapidly strung out.
The race is set out in a series of special stages  - much like a rally – so each part of the course is divided up and you record your time for each stage by sticking your dibber (a wee electronic stick you wear around your wrist) in the start and finish terminals. At the end of the first section I considered getting rid of the waterproofs and although I was baking I knew I had 60 odd kms to go and the weather was still very Lochaber. I forged ahead not wanting to lose any more time. We joined the west highland way and the typically rough west highland terrain set in. The place was swimming in water and the streams that ran between the loose rocks proved to yield the most traction, I started making up a few positions on this section as I got into my stride, this part of the route was great fun, with loose boulders the size of fists rolling around beneath the rubber made for an engaging ride; along with burn crossing after burn crossing there was no doubt that you were heading in to the wild. As we neared Kinlochleven the weather showed no sign of abating as we headed into the first real descent of the route.
Stopping to dib I crammed some food in and descended in to the mist. This descent is wild, amazingly technical with huge square water bars and a loose, coarse surface of boulders and shale. It was seat of the pants stuff, with folk splaying off and ejecting all over the place. It injected a sense of absolute chaos that gave me a real boost. Hitting the bottom in a tirade of spitting gravel and clouds of midges I dibbed, said hi to Katherine (who took most of the photos) and then set about another very steep climb up to Mamore lodge. I felt better on this climb, despite the gradient and made it to the food station quicker than I had expected. Munching down a banana I spent to long talking to one of the out-riders about the virtues of d-slr’s and their durability in such howfing conditions.

Up to the lodge and onto the path which marks the entrance to the ‘Wilderness’ It went downhill for a while which led me into a false sense of security as it soon kicked up again. With a deflated sense of purpose I struggled up the loose surface, wishing I still had a granny ring I succumbed, dismounted and pushed for the remainder of the ascent. The positions slipped away and swathed in grey drooch my motivation wained. Once on level ground following the bank of Loch Eilde Mor my mind wandered as I ploughed out an incessant rhythm of river crossing after river crossing. As if from nowhere the sun suddenly broke through, which totally lifted me from my dwam, a nice bit of prattle with some of the competitors helped even more. I knew I was well down by now and that there was little chance of a decent result and I concluded that I should try and enjoy the ride, it was at this point that my fluster lifted.
The river crossing at Luibeilt came into view and the expanse of this area made itself clear. With all the rain that had been on the go for weeks had turned  the river into a deep black lumbering giant. We had been instructed  at the briefing that there would be rope to guide us over but it was long gone. I’ve made some dodgy river crossings before and this was up-there. The water was not particularly fast but it was deep (especially for someone of my height) I waded through in a methodical manner making sure my foot was planted before taking the next step. The water came up to my waist and it goes without saying that there was a sharp intake of breath as the chill hit the meat and potatoes. On the other bank I sat and ate copiously between helping folk out and enjoying the comedy of the scene with everybody else. Full of pasta and haribo I struck out along the boggy bank of the river to hike over the lairig.
Despite a good deal of training for the hike-a-bike I once again felt myself slipping as I laboured up the trail bike on back. I stopped half way up to take in the view, digging out the point and shoot out of the bag I pressed the power button. A nasty crunching noise emanated from the supposedly weatherproof camera and it was clear that the Lochaber dreich had claimed another victim. I wolfed down an energy gel and lumbered on. By the time I reached the top I was completely on my own and didn’t see another soul until I reached the watering station above Spean.
On the return leg now, which was mainly downhill in typical Scottish style the wind picked up and arranged itself squarely on my face. I tried in vain to keep my speed up for the descent, battling against the wind and dragging surface. My bmx style sprints came into play here, giving a wee dig here and there. My left middle finger was giving me no end of jipp, rattling around and making it difficult to use the brakes and at some stages just hold on. It is a great descent with lots going on , the singletrack is great and could be pretty flowing without the headwind and drier ground. The fireroad descent is also good with slabs of bed rock a loose surface and plenty sweeping corners, think two parallel lengths of rocky singletrack.
Once at the food station I gathered myself, I was in pain, demoralised and well back on where I thought I should be, not stopping for long i carried on into Leanachan forest and the endless sprawl of fire roads, Occasionaly I got a fix on two competitors in the distance and they provided my motivation. My whole existence seemed to become a matter of catching these people and riding on, I eventually caught up to them after what seemed an age – just before the quarry, exchanged hollow stares and a few mumbled pleasantries and rode on. Now everything seemed to hinge on keeping this pair behind me. My arrival clearly gave them something to aim at to and for the first time in the whole event I actually felt like I was racing. With some more bmx styled bursts I managed to leave them behind through the quarry. On the home straight now I actually felt pretty good, maybe it was the injection of some competition and the fact I had made up some places but I finally managed to find some speed in the familiar trails round Aonach Mor. On the road down to the last section of trail my phone rang, I stopped to answer incase it was the grandparents, I dug it out, it had stopped ringing a while ago and now I had no signal. The two guys I had spent so long trying to beat roared by. I hastily stuck the phone in my pocket and gave chase. Once I had caught up to them I was feeling spent, the fluster had returned and I just wanted to finish. Happily i loitered in their slipstream as they dragged me along the cycle path back to Lochy Bridge and the finish.
Back at the leisure centre I got my time sheet and position – 87th out of 144. I felt dejected but happy to have completed the route. I had long wanted to go into that area, out by Luibeilt the landscape is miraculous and vast and I’m definitely going to venture back there under more leisurely circumstances in the future. Spad brought me a coffee, I asked what position he came and humbly he replied; 18th. I nearly choked on my coffee. What a result and full kudos to the man. Top ten next year Spad?

Here’s an mtb cut video of the event…

Glen Finglas

October 4th, 2010 • 1 comment Cycling, Mountainbiking

It was a grim morning, grey and yesterdays rain was persisting. None the less myself, Spad, Misha and Chad made the effort, squeezed into the skinners and head out to meet in Aberfoyle. We milled around the high street trying to find some purpose as we watched swathes of roadies set about a mountain time-trial up the dukes pass. Bacon rolls and coffee provided the boost that got us to Brig 0′turk we parked, saddled up and hauled ourselves up the first tarmac climb.
Rising quickly you soon reach the reservoir and the tarmac turns to gravelly shale. The route undulates along the side of the manmade loch passing over lots of burns, which were swollen with the rain; running loud and white – Apparently Finglass means white water in the gaidhlig – Soon the reservoir reverts to it’s pre manmade state as you join the Finglass water and get an idea of what this glen used to look like before one end was plugged.
The pass up and around Moine nan Each soon comes into view, cut like a gash in the hillside it looks like it goes on and on, which it does. Steep but with plenty traction I was reduced to walking more than once. Mishas chain imploded under the strain he was exerting on it and we stopped just short of the 600m top to eat mentos and kit-kat whilst he set about the rivets. At the top it would have been nice to look into the next glen and down to Strathyre but as it was the view consisted of a mass of white cloud.
The descent was good fun, two tracks of loose and rocky fire road with a slippery mossy centre provided plenty of slides and wavers, interspersed with water crossings, many of which were much deeper than they appeared it put a smile on everyones face. Finally the sun came up as we meandered our way across the western foot of Ben Vane. Again the track undulates never going one vertical direction for long.
Once back on the tarmac we turned left and shot of on a wee singletrack walking trail which skirts round above Brig o’turk, it was a tough climb on smooth, fine gravel. The view from the top was great and the descent had us sliding around corners foot out back wheel locked but apart from that it was smooth and pretty un-eventfull.
All in all this is a nice route in a stunning area, physically challenging it is by no means a technical, radical, gnarfest. The track at it’s roughest is still erring on the side of smooth but it provides plenty speed and heaps of fun, the climbs are pretty intense and the loop is certainly one for those who like to pedal.

Here’s the route.

Big smoke

September 25th, 2010 • 1 comment Around the World, Cycling

Now this is well off theme, but my latest adventure took place – nowhere near a mountain or wilderness of any kind – but in the heart of the British capital, London.

I had an exhibit showing at the artcrank poster show, so in an effort to mix it with the cycling community at large I bmx’ed it into central, threw the bike in the bike van and settled in for the surprisingly painless journey of 5 and a bit hours. My first challenge was finding the venue away down near Shoreditch, so a bit of meandering through friday night traffic in the dark provided quite a shot of excitement. Those roads get hell of a busy. Venue found, I got a beer and went outside to take some photos when i heard the unmistakable howl of the teenwolf. There they were a bunch of couriers from Glasgow down for the messenger event London calling. They filled me in as to where the party was and with post-exhibition activities sorted I set about the social mill. The exhibition ended at about 12ish, everything had gone well, so me and show organiser and my host for the night Chris Verbick headed of in search of a warehouse deep in the east end where the messenger chaos was in progress.

Now, I’ve not been a messenger for a long time now, I got so bored of riding the streets and the seemingly pointless tail chasing that defines life in the heart of hive that i developed a serious distain for city centres in general. In developing this complex I had completely forgotten how much fun weaving through traffic in a group of bikes can be, the bmx however is not designed as a primary form of transit and requires some physical commitment to keep it close to the wheels of more suitable bikes. Still I had a great buzz sliding in the gaps and holding onto taxis for a little extra boost when i fell off the back. The streets at this time were alive with bikes, i have never seen so many fixed wheels in one shot before and it is safe to say that the so called (fixie – culture) is in full chat down south. The warehouse we were seeking gave itself up through sound – amongst a swathe of identical industrial carbuncles – and what a warehouse it was. Man, this place was RAD! full of amazing murals (some of which were banksy’s) a full on sound system, lasers and lights, live tag-team hip-hop, dark corners full of tired / minced couriers hunched over tables and a giant pizza oven which set off the stark urban vibe with the sweet smell of pine smoke and cooking dough. We had a fine time although all off us were spent, Niall Dobbie (ex weegie courier) had cycled from Glasgow on a fixie and was in fine form despite his trek. Along with Brian Dunsmore (Westcoast messengers) we spoke of travelling the world, latest adventures, family and the state of old friends all conducted in un-cooth Glaswegian style over a bottle of Glenmorangie. Thoroughly well oiled we left to find Chris’s flat, rumbling along thin singletrack canal paths through the industrial veins of the city, I felt at ease with a city I have always had a healthy dislike for before.

So will i be buying another track bike rolling up one trouser leg and riding the traffic for fun? The answer would have to be no. I would rather spend my time in the peace and solace of the un-civilised hills…