BAM 2021 – May

I bided my time through May, waiting for the weather to warm up enough to let me take my best cycling buddy Kerr along with me. Predictably, that was the last weekend in May, but the forecast was good enough and so off we headed for Braemar on Saturday straight after lunch. As usual, I had no choice in our destination as Kerr was determined to return to “His” camp spot in Glen Quoich. Since he was a year bigger, I figured I would make him work for it this time out. We parked up at Invercauld, with the aim of riding along the Dee to Glen Quoich and then climbing up and along the high eastern side of the glen.

One day he’ll be carrying my stuff
Quiet side of the Dee
Keeping moving to keep the flies off
Energy drink break on the first proper climb

The weather was warm and sultry, just right for shorts and t-shirt, though the first steep climb away from the Linn of Quoich got us hot and sweaty. Luckily I had brought Irn Bru to use as bribery along the way, as well as a pack of Maoam in his bar bag!

Every puddle was thoroughly tested
Mountains ahoy

We had left later than I would have liked as usual, but I made sure there was no rush other than needing to get the dinner on before he got too hungry. We undulated along above the glen, my only real worry being the level of the river crossing once we reached the end of this track. We had come back this way the previous year, but it had been later in the summer and the warm weather, plus lots of snow still on the hills meant it could be pretty high.

Great views of Beinn Bhreac

As we dropped to the ford at the Quoich Water, my fears proved well founded, as there were a couple of sections I really didn’t want Kerr walking through unaided. His lip started to wobble at the thought of not getting to our camp site, tantalisingly in view across the water, so I did a bit of scouting round for our options. By dropping off the side of the track a little way back from the ford, there was a wider option available which should go if we were careful. I had to abandon thoughts of crossing barefoot as usual to make sure I had good purchase for looking after Kerr. After two trips for the bikes and a final one for Kerr, who found the whole thing a great laugh and had the advantage of a pair of Crocs to keep his shoes dry, we were finally at our camp site.

Pushing the nice bit on his own

The massive exodus of post- lockdown campers to the mountains luckily hadn’t extended as far as Glen Quoich, so we found our favourite spot uninhabited. After receiving some sporadic help with the tent pitching, I left Kerr to play at the river bed whilst I got everything else sorted in camp.

Tent up and brew on

Kerr was ecstatic to find that his stone causeway had somehow survived the winter and we wound the evening down messing about at the water’s edge and constructing a cooling area for our drinks once our luxurious macaroni cheese dinner had been dispatched.

I get a feeling he’s happy to be here
We love a big beetle pic
Fine daddy engineering

Time was getting on so we decided to turn in for a bit to get cosy, before another night excursion to see what was about and about. As it turned out, it was neither of us – after plenty of one way chat from Kerr, we both drifted off to sleep, with the outer door still held open to let the breeze in on a pleasantly mild night.

We woke early and dozed around for a bit until Kerr decided he was hungry, meaning I had to get myself up and shuffle around our campsite barefoot, as my shoes were still propped up on the nearby tree to dry in the steadily warming morning sun. I sent Kerr to collect the milk from my fridge, but he returned gleefully informing me it had dried out and that we should have stuck with his original spot, to which he had moved it to cool again after being heated up all morning.

No chance of a wet tent to pack
Rugged outdoor equipment
Summer below Beinn a Bhuird
Still drying my shoes

We whiled away the morning with cups of tea for me and general splashing around in water for Kerr, with the sun beating down and a complete lack of midges, despite the low winds. All good things must come to and end, however, so I started packing up the tent and kit, ready for our return. As usual, Kerr asked if we could come back and camp out for more than one night next time – he never seems happier than when he’s hanging out in the middle of nowhere surrounded by nature and I vowed to try and do this more often.

To get back to the car, I decided Kerr was going to get a bit more adventure. Rather than head back the way we came, we would continue up the glen to cross the Quoich Water much higher up, allowing us to link onto the top of Gleann an t-Slugain. Distance wise, it’s a shortcut, but effort wise, not at all. Once we got past the river-eroded parts of the path, there was a great surface for riding on for a good while. This was a marked improvement on what was there 15 years ago on my last passage.

Heading upriver
Mini-crossing warmup
Great whilst it lasted

After crossing a smaller burn, we had a steep push up onto some more rooty singletrack which wound its way through the trees. Despite it being a constant uphill, Kerr just kept powering along, with his wee fat tyres gripping their way out of every dip and rise. We just had the one mishap, with a pedal strike on a steep camber leaving him wrapped up in his bike upside down. I gave him a bit of a break and some more sweets before coaxing him back into action. Luckily, the surfaced track reappeared, which meant a bit less shuttling of the two bikes on the dodgy bits for me and a feeling that he would soon be at the river crossing whose proximity he had been nagging me about for the last half hour.

Above the Quoich Water

Finally, the ford was in sight and we dropped down steeply to appraise it. Whilst the levels weren’t too bad, I opted to keep my shoes on again and walk Kerr and the bikes over separately. Job done, we sat on the far side eating our lunch and letting my shoes dry out in the sun.

Well deserved lunch

Once fed, more pushing interspersed with riding brought us up to meet the track from The Sneck. I had promised Kerr a constant downhill from here, which was kind of true, though my memory of the condition of the upper track down Gleann an t-Slugain didn’t quite tie in with reality. It was pretty steep and loose at times, with Kerr sensibly opting to walk his bike down the bits that made him nervous.

Lovely wee singletrack stretch away from the crossing
Top of Gleann an t-Slugain
Back on the smooth after some rough descending

The temperature ramped up as we descended, so we stopped at a mini ford and started splashing about and topping up on water, now that Kerr had finished his emergency Irn Bru ration. We were briefly interrupted by the passage of a Mountain Rescue Land Rover as we made sure the bikes were out of the way. They weren’t for chatting, but hopefully nothing too serious had occurred on the hill.

Crystal clear rehydration
Knew this would happen

Eventually, we rolled on to enjoy a speedy ride down the rest of the glen, Kerr happily chatting and veering around the track as he saw fit. The more adventurous route home had used up plenty of the day and we arrived back at Invercauld almost exactly 24 hours after we left. Kerr was right, we need to get a multi day trip organised – though I imagine his version has more messing about in rivers and a lot less cycling than mine!

Toasty at the bottom of the glen
Cairngorms perfection

BAM 2021 – January to March

I couldn’t quite believe that this was coming round again, but here I was, kipping in the back garden as a poor substitute for a proper bivvy. I could have maybe squeezed in a New Year bivvy before the COVID restrictions came down again, but I missed that ship. As with last year I’m lumping the garden bivvies into one blog post.

January

I held on for a few weeks just in case a miracle occurred and I was allowed out, but no. On a stunning cold night, I went out for a late 11pm ride around the rapidly freezing roads nearby before coming home and settling down in my SOL bivy bag on the back step I had used for my last garden bivy in 2020.

Streets were a bit frosty for singlespeeding
Dynamotastic
My now standard garden sleep spot
The dusting of snow in the face overnight was surprisingly pleasant
Went for grippy studs for the morning ride
Firm, fast and slippy

February

Not quite down to the wire as usual, I even did my pre-bivy ride by daylight, thanks to having the Friday afternoon off. Another cold clear night required only a bivy bag as shelter.

Feels like Spring out by Countesswells
Chilled Friday afternoon ride
Super bright moon overnight
Quiet Hazelhead at sunrise
Back to natural light in the AM

March

March was a work night bivvy, which isn’t really a hassle when you’re sleeping in your back garden during Work From Home. Still, I fancied a decent ride so I did my out ride first thing in the morning, taking the mountain bike up and over Brimmond Hill just at dawn on a beautiful day. Payback was a ride through the mist the following morning!

Dead on for dawn
Bucks Burn crossing
Kingswells North Shore…
Brimmond summit
Hairy selfie
Gratuitous picture of bike with miniscule wheels
Brimmond descent
Speedy Countesswells trails
Another moony night
Moody morning
Not quite wet local trails

The three months had dragged on a bit, especially with people only a few miles west having the whole of Aberdeenshire as their playground, but the garden BAMs helped a little. I still couldn’t wait for late April to roll around for the chance of a proper forest ditch bivvy!

Strictly Local

2021 seemed destined to follow the example set by 2020, which was a shame. In the midst of the second lockdown at the turn of the year I was starting to get itchy feet, knowing any proper adventures were on hold again. Inspired by a post by Markus Stitz, where he rode around the edge of Edinburgh, I decided I would stick to the Scottish COVID lockdown rules as closely as possible and ride around the exact periphery of my local authority. For Aberdeen City, this meant hugging the banks of the River Dee and Don along with some coast riding and cross country to connect the two rivers at either end.

The official boundary of fun

Since the route I had traced out along the boundary had a long stretch of beach riding, there was only one bike I could take – the ever dependable Ritchey Commando in 29+ guise. I had managed to negotiate heading out with 2 hours of light remaining in the day, so off I rolled on Sunday afternoon, aiming to get what I imagined to be the roughest part of the ride out of the way, along the banks of the Dee. Dropping down to the riverside path just behind Boots at Garthdee, I had a long stretch of what was an unknown quantity to me with the potential for icy patches in the -2 temperatures.

Joining the river bank
Low temperatures mean no mud

The weather had been cold for so long that practically every muddy stretch had frozen solid and I enjoyed trundling along, patiently letting oncoming walkers pass when necessary on a beautiful crisp afternoon. The river itself was beginning to ice up along the edges, with lots of icy slush floating along, which made an odd scraping sound as it collided with the solid skin of ice outlining the river bank.

Rock solid golf course

The riding this far had been lovely, with lots of little undulating singletrack stretches through the trees at times, but I knew my luck couldn’t hold much longer. Not long after Deeside Golf Club, I had to turn away from the river briefly to use a bridge crossing a tributary. As I turned back along the wee burn to get back to the Dee I noticed a well-trod path across the empty grassy field. Stubborn as ever, I stuck to my guns and followed the narrow path which followed the barbed wire fence field boundary. This immediately turned into tussocks at the river bank, then narrowed down to non-existent proportions, leaving me with a choice of thick gorse to my left or barbed wire to my right. I ploughed on, occasionally needing to lift the bike to clear a particularly narrow stretch, whilst looking into the field where the occasional dog walker casually strolled along without a care in the world! After a brief stop to allow a couple in similar pain to pass in the opposite direction, whilst promising them only 100m more of the spikiest patches, I got fed up and threw my bike over the fence at a good spot to climb over without damaging anything and rolled along quite happily 10 metres to the right of where I had been.

Hardier souls than I navigate the ice-laden Dee
The occasional gappy bit after the gorse escapade
Speedy but rock hard and rattly

The path improved again shortly afterwards and I made good progress towards Maryculter. There had been a burn crossing I was worried would stop me as I remember turning back there once on a walk, but I was through it and past before I realised where I was, soon passing under the AWPR and crossing the road below to take on the last stretch of the Dee, which would take me to the end of a spur on the City boundary map.

Frosty evening light on the Dee

Again, the path was surprisingly good and I soon reached the Culter Burn, where I turned away from the river, joining the Deeside Way very briefly to cross over and double back. I skirted the edge of Peterculter golf course, which was frozen solid and closed. At the far end of the course I popped over a dyke to drop down into a swampy section before regaining the river bank and bumping my way along an improving grassy path. This led to a well-appointed fishing hut before carrying me onwards to Dalmaik Kirk, where I would leave the river to start heading north for the Don.

Fancy fishing hut
Running out of light
Dalmaik Kirk

After a bit of faffing, it appeared the only way I could join the track leading away from the river without entering someone’s garden was to hop over the wall into the graveyard, which I duly did. The little-used road had some long stretches of ice, which required careful navigation with no mishaps, before I popped out onto the short road stretch of the Deeside Way. Because of this being an outlier of the city boundary, I had to now turn back the way I had come from and go east into the edge of Peterculter before performing another U-turn and heading west again. This was all on road, so I could get my average speed up whilst the last of the day’s light faded. Another spur followed around the icy declassified road by Leuchar Moss and I got myself offroad again at Benthoul to take a beeline past the helipad and along the field margins to get me near Wester Ord. I’ve taken this way a few times over the years and it’s great when frozen like this.

Heading for Leuchar Moss
Last light
Rock hard tracks and fields from Benthoul

After rejoining the tarmac I headed towards Countesswells, but took the road North to skirt around Westhill and enjoy a quick refreshment stop at the Tesco petrol station. It was so cold and dark, the thought of a 10 minute ride home was pretty tempting at this point, but I resisted the temptation and kept following the border to the north, making good time on the quiet roads towards Blackburn. After crossing the A96, I kept to the east of the Blackburn and navigated some substantial ice patches on the back road, gingerly descending to the crossing and joining the B road that would take me to Hatton of Fintray and beyond. My route now was going to roughly follow the Don to the east, but I took the easy option of staying on the road for a bit longer, as the path I had planned along the river banks was guaranteed to turn into an icy walk in these conditions. This resulted in me reaching Dyce very quickly, where I could get off road again in the Parkhill estate for a pleasant ride through the forest. As I reached the end of this section, my plotted path appeared to deposit me in someone’s back garden. Despite the exit being about 30 metres away, I didn’t feel right ambling past someone’s house and using their gate, so I found an extra path that wound through the trees, eventually letting me out through a gap in the wall.

I kept wending my way east towards the coast, with a couple more new off road excursions to do before Potterton that worked out quite well. Soon, I crossed the AWPR for the final time and rolled down into Blackdog for the beach section of the journey. As I hit the sand, I knew I would have to cross the Blackdog Burn somehow to start heading south. I reached the burn at a wide crossing that still showed a bridge across in satellite imagery of the area, but I’d had a feeling this would be long gone, which proved to be the case! The simplest way to get down to the beach would be to turn left and climb a faint path through the dunes to take me down to where the burn emptied into the sea. This had been my original plan, but I had been worrying about high tide since setting off, as I was sure it was pretty much now, meaning there might not be a shallow crossing available. If I could cross the burn higher up somehow, then I would take out that uncertainty. So I turned right against my better judgement and started climbing an even fainter path going inland. I had hoped there might be a sneaky wee bridge here, but no such luck. The burn did narrow significantly, however, so I dropped down to a particularly narrow spot for a closer look. It was an easy jump across to the other side, but not easy or shallow enough to stand the bike up and swing across whilst holding on to it. I resolved to just throw the bike over and hop across afterwards. The bike throw did not go well – the bike, on landing on the far side, did not flop over as expected, but somehow contrived to bounce on its front wheel and spring backwards, landing neatly in the deep burn with the voluminous tyres keeping it afloat. Panic ensued and I immediately leapt across without thinking to rescue my beloved. With little care taken to pick a landing spot, my left foot crunched through the frozen vegetation and plunged shin deep in the burn whilst I fished out the Commando.

Once the extraction was complete, I dragged myself up the bank a little and sat down to take stock. The bike looked fine but my foot was soaking, so I took off my boot and wrung out my sock to try and minimise the damage the rest of the ride was going to do. I also emptied out my mini saddle bag to see what was what. Luckily I had already switched to my properly warm gloves, so the sodden ones inside weren’t an issue and I could probably manage okay without eating the now unappealing caramel shortbread slices from the garage. My extra layers seemed fine after a quick shake out, so I threw on my Mavic windproof and resumed my trudge along the burn and over onto the beach, where I finally started on the southward leg of my journey.

Couldn’t resist stopping for a shot of the usual pillbox

I’ve been up and down here quite a bit in recent times, but the frigid temperatures lately had resulted in the sand being frozen solid if you found the right band, so I was absolutely flying along, wondering if I had even needed to bring the plus bike. As I pulled in at the branded pillbox, I thought to check the high tide time as it didn’t look to be as far up as expected. High tide was closer to midnight than 10pm so my Blackdog Burn exploits had been totally needless! Never mind, I was here now and could mostly still feel my wet foot, so on I went.

Bright light heading for the bright lights

As I got closer to the mouth of the Don, the firm surface disappeared under thousands of footprints from the COVID-enclosed folks of Aberdeen City all visiting the same haunts. At least the later than expected high tide hadn’t forced me to use the paths through the golf courses to reach the Don, meaning I could hug the boundary as tightly as possible. I did a quick dogleg to cross the Don and then started off along the esplanade which was nice and quick. As I reached Footdee, I managed to drop down onto the beach and nip past the waves that were lapping against the sea defences to enjoy the last stretch of sand on my journey.

Footdee beach exit

I now had to make my way through the docks of Aberdeen and cross the Dee at Victoria Bridge. I would not be able to follow the complete coast of the headland that would take me to Nigg Bay as it is currently being destroyed for yet more harbour space. I had to content myself with climbing past the Torry battery and on to the lighthouse, then taking a track that bisects the golf course to drop me back on the coast road, where I could climb out of the bay and start riding along the cliff tops towards Cove.

Top of the golf course looking towards my office somewhere

The cliff top paths are a joy to ride as long as you don’t overcook it on the corners which were mostly free of ice, though I was being nice and careful. The last kilometre down to Cove Bay itself was new to me, but I managed to follow what was on the ground to get me down to sea level where I had the joy of the very steep climb through the village on a mercifully ice-free road.

Too dark to get any cliff edge shots

I used a rough path along the edge of the Cove community woodland to hug the southernmost point of the city boundary and eventually managed to extract myself through some dense trees, emerging onto the road out of Cove. The rest of the route was simple, taking roads that were closed off to traffic by the AWPR, but link handily together for cyclists. I popped out onto the edge of the A90, rolling downhill before crossing and nipping onto South Deeside road for the last bit of boundary hugging towards my final crossing of the Dee, where the loop was completed. 100km of mostly offroad riding, all whilst remaining inside the city boundary and never being more than an hour’s ride from home!

BAM 2020 – November

November was a wet and miserable month, resulting in me putting off my bivy continuously so that I was stuck with the last night of the month yet again. I couldn’t be bothered heading out to a soggy forest somewhere so went for a safe bet along the coast. It was a late start to the ride at about half ten and I went straight through town to reach the beach front, pausing to take in the eerily empty Union Street.

Christmas lights were up
Only took a global pandemic for them to finally pedestrianise Union Street
City lights
Marine lights

High tide was due at 1 am, so I skipped the bit of headland at Donmouth and used the golf course access road to make some decent progress before rejoining the coastline round the back of a tee. This had been handily discovered on a late evening ride with Kerr a couple of weeks previously. Once down on the sand, the tide line seemed ominously close, especially along the stretches that were bounded by vertical cliffs of dunes.

Skirting the tide

Despite not being in full fat mode, the 29+ setup was working as fine as ever and I hugged the moist bits of shoreline were the waves came and went, occasionally veering further up the beach when a bigger wave came in. So far, I’m still not seeing a need to finally make this into the full fat bike it’s supposed to be. If I did veer too far into the softer sand then it would bog down a bit, but not too much to prevent me finding a firmer line elsewhere.

I kept moving, wanting to get as far long as possible before the tide came in too far for me to use the firmest sand. I had a few burns to cross, which I thought would dictate how far north I got, as the option of swinging around their emptying channels to cross the shallow water was going to be less likely. The first couple were manageable but I had to think about the last one before Balmedie, eventually deciding to just go for it and jump off into the channel and wheelie up the opposite bank. It wasn’t pretty, but it did the job. Past Balmedie, I began to think about stopping for the night, as I wanted to get back handy in the morning. The beach had widened a bit by now and the tide wasn’t going to be getting much higher, so I hopped up to a higher level in the dunes and found myself a nice sheltered scrape out of the wind.

Out of the wind at around freezing point

Once stopped, I popped off my single pannier and rolled out the kit. Usual drill, bit of food, cup of tea and off to bed. No need for an alarm, I figured I’d be up before sunrise.

Early morning peek out of the bivy bag

Once I was awake, I polished off the tea from the flask, took a few pictures and packed up – dead simple with the pannier.

Quickly packed pannier
Much clearer skies than than forecast

The tide was now well out, so I had the whole beach to pick a line on the way home and enjoy the unexpected bonus of the sun.

All the float I needed
Solar charging time
Not bad for November
Bunkers prepped for post-Brexit War of Independence

I strung out my return on such a beautiful morning, taking pictures and snacking and finally reaching the mouth of the Don, which is much more easily navigable at low tide.

A lot colder than it looks
Commando at Donmouth
Back to the big smoke

Once I reached the Bridge of Don, I took the direct route home, rather than milk it any longer. As soon as I got in, I also hosed down the bike to remove as much salt and sand as I could, making it the cleanest it’s been since the HT550 start line! I hadn’t been feeling it this month at all, but the night out and lovely morning ride had worked its magic as always.

Good as newish

BAM 2020 – October

I had big plans for October, since I was going to be in Nethy Bridge for the first week of the half term holiday as usual. This meant I had the northern Cairngorms as my playground if I could manage to sneak out one night of our stay. I had managed to stuff my bivy gear in as I packed the car with everything we needed, so I just needed to pick a decent night. The weather however, had other ideas and was particularly wet from the minute we arrived. Coupled to this I was feeling rough with a pounding headache, as was Yvonne, meaning I couldn’t abandon her even if I did feel up to it. We still managed to squeeze in plenty of fun with the kids and I even recced the track from Ryvoan back to the house with Kerr, riding back from a canoe day at Loch Morlich on a mostly dry afternoon. The track was an absolute state, thanks to the diggers that have used it to access the hills, though Kerr seemed happy enough getting covered head to toe in mud!

Late in the week, I finally felt up to a night out, setting out just after the kids’ bedtime. The forecast wasn’t great, but I was hoping to do something similar to last year’s October bivy on the Bynack More summit, but this time on Cairn Gorm itself. I headed straight up the road and into Abernethy Forest, making a beeline for the Forest Lodge track. I nearly had an off before I even left the tarmac, as I met some mountain bikers coming the other way, who collectively gave a cheery wave whilst pointing around 2 million lumens of lights and head torches in my face, causing me to lose the edge of the road and fall into the ditch there. This was quite a contrast, as I was currently only using the light off one of the kids bikes in an effort to save the Joystick until I needed it, thanks to them having taken it somewhere below 50% battery running around the cottage in the dark on previous nights! I still wasn’t feeling 100%, so I just trundled along uphill, only pausing for a snack at the edge of the forest before heading on to Ryvoan.

Dirty before I started

I reached An Lochan Uaine and stopped for a wee bit to think about my plans. I was feeling crappy and it was going to take me a good while to reach the top of Cairn Gorm. I had a faint hope there might be a cloud inversion so I actually saw something in the morning, but it was unlikely. As I pondered my options I noticed rain drops passing in front of my headlight, meaning it was only going to get more persistent and pervasive as I climbed. Finally I came to my senses – it was neither productive or responsible to carry on to the summit and try to bivy in my state and these conditions. Instead I rolled up to the fancy viewing platform and started to get my kit out, occasionally pausing as I had second thoughts, such is my stubborn nature.

5-star bivy accommodation

I drank my tea and had a snack, sitting on the luxurious bench and not feeling particularly sorry for myself. I eventually got into bed well before midnight and arranged my kit so the rain wouldn’t find its way into my boots. One bonus of the level sleeping area was that my ultra slippy bivy bag didn’t go AWOL during the night – it was also its first test in some proper rain, though the surrounding trees helped too. After a cosy night’s low altitude sleep I woke in the grey drizzle and gradually worked up the energy to get myself up and going.

Would love to pretend it was the morning sun peeking through, but it’s actually one of those damn diggers
Palatial
Can still see a bit of green even in this light
Always a lovely spot
Probably need to service these moving parts one day

I could have packed up and gone back the way I came, but my lack of riding the night before and my severe case of antiloopophobia would have kicked in, so I made for Loch Morlich instead and straight onto the old logging way.

Never gets that wet on these tracks

I turned off to the north at the end of the loch and started heading for An Slugan, which is a handy shortcut for getting back towards Abernethy offroad.

Gloomy Cairngorms from An Slugain
Much more thoughtful than a Keep Out sign at Pityoulish

Once down the other side, I just needed to whip along the old declassified road past Tulloch Moor and I’d be just about home. First of all I had to stop and admire the boardwalk bypassing the puddle of doom which beat the semi-submerged pallets that were there on my last crossing.

A good few years since I last drove this road
I’ve been through it on a road bike but not a mountain bike, no idea why
Amused by the simple things

After my North Shore excursion, I continued onto the roads near Loch Garten, hopping off into the Forest as soon as possible to enjoy some lovely forest riding on my way back to join in for breakfast with the kids. I’d done nothing like what I’d planned, but who’s keeping score anyway?

Sublime Abernethy
Last photo pause before home