I took the train north to Aviemore from Edinburgh. My backpack full of food and camping gear. In Aviemore I took the bus up and up, towards the ski hill. Now, patchy with only a little snow left. I asked the driver to drop me near the trail head. Knowing there wasn’t a stop there he looked doubtful but agreed to slow enough for me to hop out. Waiting at the ready, he eventually gave me the signal, swung the doors open, and i jumped out, backpack swinging, smiling like a young man who’s just gotten away with it. Smiling like a young man who’s off to walk the lairig Ghru. The lairig ghru is a glacial valley cutting through the heart of the Cairngorms. I walked for two days, dodged snow storms and spent a night in the famous corrour bothy. I arrived back in Edinburgh feeling a great sence of accomplishment. It was a captivating landscape and a pivotal moment in my life, I vowed to come back. Next time with my bike.

I wouldn’t make it back to the Cairngorms for another 6 years. Until this year, 2025. But this time I made sure I brought my bike. The plan was to ride the Cairngorm loops route from bikepacking.com. 180 miles with 13000 feet of climbing. Described to me as an outer loop of nice gravel sections with technical moutian biking in between and an inner loop comprised of single track and two significant hike a bikes. It sounded incredible, considering my attachment to the Cairngorms as well as an opportunity for a Highland Trail shakedown ride. I was already in Edinburgh heading to the start of the HT only a week away, so in the meantime, I hopped on a train once more and went north to Aviemore. With the bike loaded it just fit in the bike storage, but three hours later, it and myself were rolling out of Aviemore station bound for the hills. Well, first for a little ride, then a night in a cheap hotel, shower, and charge. In the morning I’d go to Tesco and buy some food for the first stretch. A short distance between resupplys to start with two in the first 50 miles, then one at mile 95, although limited, then again at mile 130 to the finish. Leaving from Aviemore made sense to me for a few reasons. Mainly to reminisce on times past but also to make it an even 60 miles a day for 3 days. Passing the red house bothy twice, once at mile 60 and again at mile 120 before returning to Aviemore 60 miles later. The weather was lining up to be best case scenario with no rain recently and no rain on the forecast. Making for dryer bogs and easier river crossings. The plan was set and after fish and chips for dinner, it was an early night.

The morning was crisp and cool, perfect riding weather as i set off from my room. Some pavement to start but quickly turning to forest track heading up into the mountains. Then a small section of single track descending to Tomintoul, all rideable and all stunning. There is a store there that could feed you for days. I think I had an ice cream. 25 miles later, after another section like the last, dirt road degrading to single-track but all ridable, I arrived in Breamar. Mile 50. There are a few restaurants and store options here. I had a baked potato with a cheese and tomato sandwich. The next bit was fast rolling gravel, climbing gradually along the river Dee. Passing the southern end of the Lairig Ghru where the waters from the many drainages meet. Past glen dee, to where it’s waters meet with the geldie burn. The red house bothy stands along side the road just where it turns to cross the water. I arrived with at least 2 hours of daylight left which also happen to be my favourite hours to ride but I decided anyway to stay the night there. Enjoying the cozy and surprisingly empty bothy. A popular spot, it was renovated in 2020 and is truly nice inside. People would pay to stay here, no doubt. The mountain bothy association does an incredible job and for it be free of charge is unheard of these days. I spent the evening in and out of the bothy enjoying the sunset, stretching, eating dinner, and reading the guest book. (New years Eve 2024 sounded wild)

I had been in bed an hour by 10pm, dozing off when the door cracked and I woke, startled. That moment right before you fall deep sleep, in between dreams and reality, ripped apart infront of me. But I’m not bitter or anything. A figure pushed their bike through the door, and I heard the unmistakable sound of a cassette. Her name was Sam, and she had ridden all the way from Glasgow that day. 140 miles or more. The last of it being technical uphill single track that was frustratingly hard to ride. I would ride the same track a couple days later in the opposite direction.  Understandably, sam was pretty smashed and cold. She apologised for the noise as she proceeded to make a fire and dry her things, but I assured her it was no problem. It is the nature of a bothy after all. I was asleep quickly.

In the morning, I woke to fogged over  windows and early morning light sparkling through. Sam and I chatted over coffee about our mutual love of bikepacking. Comparing notes on routes we’ve ridden as she gave me valuable bits of information for my ride ahead. Having ridden both the Cairngorm loops as well as the Highland trail, she was a wealth of knowledge. After warning me of the 10 mile hike a bike coming up, she wished me good luck and rode off towards the rising sun. I finished packing my bike, shovelled some oatmeal in my mouth, and did the same but in the opposite direction. Wishing the red house goodbye but hoping I would be back come evening. I began riding up the geldie burn until it became too steep and too rocky to pedal. I pushed and walked my way over and down towards the drainage of the river freshie. Passing another bothy a ways down I stopped to chat with a few hikers. I was now entering the very popular intersection of a few of the cairngorms trekking routes. They were in good spirits and looking forward to another night in a bothy as they headed for the red house. I laughed to myself, imagining returning to the red house hours later, having gone the long way around only to find the same hikers. Continuing on, I pushed on over the river freshie and towards Glenmore. There, I stopped for a beer and a sandwich before making a start on the second and much harder fords of Avon hike a bike. A “10 mile boggy boulder filled walk” according to sam. The going was immediately steep leaving Glenmore but remained ridable for a while until it wasn’t. Then it really wasn’t. Up and down over three ridges. Pushing the ups and riding what I could of the downhills before some obstacle stopped me, which was often. It took a good three hours and I was quite worn out by the time I finally made it over the high point. Out of the fords, I made for the drainage leading to the Dee. There I rejoined the outer loop and rode again gradually uphill towards the red house bothy. It was full as I’d imagined, so I crossed the river then, in an effort to keep dry socks for the next day and made camp just over the first rise. It was late by the time I got to bed. A 12 hour shift in the saddle found me passed out before I could even zip up the tent.

A peaceful morning left me with only 60 miles to Aviemore. I planned to meet my uncle and aunt at freshie bridge only five miles from Aviemore but i would stop there to camp and eat dinner with them. I got a late start. Watching the hikers from across the river, they trickled one by one from the bothy on their way to the lairig ghru or onto Breamar to resupply. I commend those walkers, a pace too slow to satisfy me but one that requires even more patience and perseverance. By 9am I had finally got the bike packed and I rolled out for what I thought would be an easy day. The Highlands do not give it up that easy though and I found myself pushing once more. For a few miles up and then down, which frustrates me more than anything. It’s the up and down with dips and bogs and boulders and water bars that make it un rideable. Un rideable for only a moment but frequent moments enough to make walking the whole thing seem reasonable. Eventually, I made it into Blair atoll just before the pub opened for lunch. I had time to resupply at the shop before sitting down for a pint with fish and chips. The post beer slump fought me as I made my way up the last long climb of the route. Another steep but ridable forest track. Disappearing to fait single track as it reached Loch an Duin. The views made up for the unexpected hike as I slowly by surly made my way along the three locks, eventually making it down along the river tromie. One last push over to the freshie river drainage, and i was there. Rolling up to my cheering auntie, ready to wrap me in a big ole hug.

Finishing these trips, even small ones like this, can be overwhelming. It’s a grand sense of accomplishment met with a very bitter sweet wave of emotion. For me, the realisation that once again riding my bike for days on end didn’t cure me of all my worries, is always a surprise. It didn’t wash me clean of my anxiety’s as if waving a magic wand. I didn’t finish knowing exactly what I want to do for the rest of my life or how to do it. It didn’t do all these things I expected bike touring to do for me when I first started. But I continue to come back, hoping always for the life changing ride, the ride that answers all of the big questions. It took some time but I see now that every ride is that ride. Every ride teaches and pushes. Its placing brick after brick to build that life and to answer those big questions. It’s a slow push and one that’s worth the sweat.