Great Glen - Happy campers

These last two autumn holidays, I've spent a chunk of my time cycling the Great Glen. You can read about my solo trip last year HERE. This year I was joined by my friend, Graham. As well as going back for great cycling, I also wanted to experience again the enjoyable, and fantastically cheap, camping opportunities along the route.  

This year we paid ten pounds to rent a key from Scottish Canals when we started our route at Corpach near Fort William. This allowed us to access the toilet and shower blocks along the Caledonian Canal which runs through the Great Glen, and therefore to use some of the informal canal-side camping. These were wonderful places to pitch and spend a night.

Our first night, and last night on the way back, was spent at Gairlochy. There's an idyllic patch of grass right on the canal-side which overlooks the basin here.  It's a wide open space with a backdrop of Aonach Mor and Ben Nevis and a foreground of incoming geese and fluttering bats.  The toilet and shower block is on the opposite side of the canal so it was a wee bit unnerving after dark walking across the top of the lock here with the inky black water below every time nature called. Next morning the waters were not black but the peach of the rising sun.

Last year I used another idyllic spot a little further on from Gairlochy on the banks of Loch Oich at the old ruin at Leitirfearn. It's a quiet spot, only accessible from the cycle path along the old railway line here. But Graham and I pressed further on from Leitirfearn and used a wild camp spot in the woods above Foyers. A pretty spot by the river, it's most appealing feature was the short run down to the cafe in Foyers in the morning for coffee and hot rolls. It's also close to the lovely woodland walks around the waterfalls here, the Falls of Foyers.

Our next cheap canal-side camp spot was a little bit quirky at Seaport Marina in Inverness. I say quirky because the informal camping was on a strip of grass behind the security fence overlooking the boats in the marina. It was noisy with city traffic but the showers were great and hundreds of geese came in at dusk.

Cycling south from Inverness, we used the route of the Great Glen Way. At one point you are deep in the woods when suddenly hand-painted signs start to appear beside the trail advertising coffee and lemon cake. Then a side trail welcomes you into the Abriachan eco-cafe and camp site. We didn't camp as it was only early morning and we'd many miles ahead but we did sample the coffee and Graham had a huge slice of cake.

Our only miserable camp spot of the trip was just south of Invermoriston. Late in the afternoon, we had lingered over coffee in the cafe there as heavy rain began to fall. We eventually forced ourselves on southward along forest trails above Loch Ness. But the rain didn't cease as the afternoon moved into evening and we struggled to find a nice camp spot. In the end a patch of grass by the side of the track had to do. It's funny how wet and miserable you can feel after a few hours in the rain but that feeling is banished quickly by getting the tent up, unravelling a cosy sleeping bag, changing into dry clothes and getting a cup of tea going on the stove.

South of Invermoriston, we headed again to a night at Gairlochy, our favourite spot of the trip, before an early morning cycle to Fort William for our train home.

Fact File

Start/finish: Fort William

Public transport: Train from Glasgow to Fort William

My route: We followed the Caledonia Way cycle route north out of Fort William which uses the canal for much of the way to Fort Augustus. At Inverfarigaig we left the cycle route and cycled instead through the Pass of Inverfarigaig which took us up into high ground with quiet back roads and a cracking tailwind. We dropped down onto the route again just beyond Dores and followed it into Inverness. We rejoined the canal to head to Seaport Marina then next morning double-backed a little to pick up the Great Glen Way south. We followed it back to Fort Augustus to repeat the cycle route into Fort William, alhtough we did detour for a few days up in Glen Strathfarrar, Cannich and Tomich which can be dome easily from Abriachan by following some lovely quiet back roads.

Info: The key from Scottish Canals to use the toilet facilities along the Caledonian Canal can be picked up at either end, at the Scottish Canals offices in Corpach or Seaport Marina.

Strathspey - Otter water, goose sky

Glaciers and water have shaped the upper reaches of the River Spey. They have created a long, flat-bottomed glen bounded on both sides by high mountains. The glen is green and lush, dotted with farms and pleasant wee towns in contrast to the rugged Cairngorms that rise to the south. They are the coldest and snowiest place in the country. The elements here have taken huge bites out of the mountains, creating a scalloped edge of sculpted corries, and worn away deep gashes like the Lairig Ghru. Along this northern edge of the Cairngorms there is a skirt of old Caledonian forest that cloaks the valley with Scots pine, birch and juniper. It’s criss-crossed with trails and dotted with secretive, tree-reflecting lochs that beg you to launch a boat onto their sheltered waters. So in late September, I added a lightweight packraft to my backpack and set off for a few days in the woods to walk the trails and paddle the waters.

A woodland walk on the first day took me an idyllic camp spot right at the edge of Loch Mallachie. I pitched the tent between tall pines whose straight tree trunks reflected in the rippled water like a squiggly bar code. Early morning I slipped the packraft onto the water and weaved a way through the pond weed. Movement ahead caught my eye – an otter. It powered across the loch towards the shallows around a wooded island then dived again and again, arching its back like a dolphin as it went under, leaving its tail to follow behind. The atmosphere of this place was special – wild and boreal with the Cairngorms rising beyond wooded foothills. I could have paddled all day except for a stiff wind picking up and forcing me back to land.

Woodland walks took me further up the glen to paddle its more sheltered waters. Above me as I walked or paddled huge skeins of geese passed overhead. Their combined honks began as a faint alert of their approach, reached a crescendo when they passed above me then receded as they flapped away over the horizon. For my second night out in the tent, I left the loch shores and headed deeper into the forest to a favourite camp spot. A beautiful, old, granny pine presides over a forest clearing while all around birch, juniper and heather form an understorey alive with the dusk-time twitter of small birds. 

Though my camp spot was deep in the woods, it was still only a short walk to the final stretch of water, Lochan Gamhna, another favourite wild spot of mine. A shallow shore provided a launch spot and the paddle cut through still waters as I headed out onto the main body of the loch. In the deeper parts of the loch, the water was as black as Guinness but in the shallower places it was transparent and the flat, round leaves of the pond weed floated on the surface. I could see their long stems that anchored them to the bottom of the loch. They were like balloons on long strings floating in the air. 

I paddled and drifted, paddled and drifted, soaking up the place. A rocky crag formed the loch’s northern boundary, its broken walls catching the morning sun. All around the shore the trees crowded to the edge, showing the first tints of autumn colours. To the south, the wooded hills began their steep climb to the higher tops of the Cairngorms. And superimposed on this was an autumn sky scored by skeins of geese.

Fact File

Start/finish: Aviemore Train Station

Public transport: Edinburgh/Glasgow to Inverness trains stop at Aviemore. Used the local Stagecoach bus from Aviemore to Boat of Garten.

My route: Followed the Speyside Way out of Boat of Garten towards Loch Garten. Just before Loch Garten there is a forest car park and from here forest trails connect to Loch Mallachie and beyond. Returned to Boat of Garten and took bus back to Aviemore. Walked on the cycle route to Inverdruie and behind the events field opposite the visitor centre, picked up the trail into the woods that leads to the lochan at the Polchar and then onto Loch an Eilein. A path encircles Loch an Eilein and at the southwest extremity a path branches off for Lochan Gamhna.

The Binn - New perspective

I feel very lucky living in Edinburgh’s seaside suburb, Portobello. At the bottom of my lane, just 30 metres from the house, is the beach and beyond the sand is the expanse of the Firth of Forth. I watch the sea a lot and I love how it’s never the same on two days. It can be glassy on a day with no swell and a gentle westerly but with a strong east wind, it can be wild and rough with big waves crashing to shore. When there’s a surf, I can hear the sea from the house and the waves seem to fill the whole area with sound. But when it’s quiet, I can hear the oystercatchers piping from the shoreline, or geese or swans flying overhead. They seem to use the coastline as a handrail for navigation. Living beside the sea also enables long beach walks straight from my front door and the opportunity to launch the kayak on calmer days. Apart from all of this, one of the best things about living at the beach is the expanse of the view, even though it’s backed by the city. I can see along the East Lothian coastline where the land first rises at Falside Castle and undulates eastwards, culminating in the dome-shaped hill of North Berwick Law at the furthest point of my horizon. In the middle of the Firth is the rocky outcrop of Inchkeith Island and across the water is the coastline of Fife and the East Neuk. The view of Fife is dominated by the twin conical peaks of the Lomond Hills but latterly my eye has been drawn to a lower hill in front of the Lomonds that rises above the town of Burntisland. When I wander down to the beach in the early morning and sip my coffee wrapped in a blanket on the colder days, it is immediately opposite me. It’s called the Binn and for some reason that I can’t fathom, I had missed climbing up it all these years. So, on a breezy day that put us off bigger hills or bike rides, I set off up the Binn with my friend, Graham.

A walk up the Binn is not long so for a bigger stretch of the legs, we got off the train at Aberdour, the stop before Burntisland. It has a lovely little station that has won awards for its floral displays and they still looked beautiful on that late summer morning. 

We used the Fife Coastal Path to walk from Aberdour to Burntisland. It’s a nice section that hugs the shoreline between the sea and the railway line but it also dips into shady, green woods along the way. That day, in strong sunshine, even the normally grey waters of the Firth of Forth were blues and greens in the shallows. Eventually our path flirted with the outskirts of Burntisland and here we began the climb up through the woods above town.

The Binn is only 193m high so it wasn’t long before we were breaking free of the woods and striding across open ground to the top. What was really surprising was that the Binn was not a singular top but a range of small hills and high ground, dotted with woods and stands of gorse. I wouldn’t have guessed there was so much up here from my straight-on view from Portobello. There were farmed fields as well that stretched almost to the edge of the sudden drop-off on the hill’s south side. Between the fields and the edge was a narrow footpath that undulated pleasingly along the ridge. The wheat fields were a striking gold in contrast to the blues of the sky and sea, and the black of the rain clouds that were following behind us and quickened our step. 

As we wandered along the ridge, the landscape of the Forth was set out below us. To the west, where the waters narrowed, we could see the three Forth bridges. The new Queensferry Crossing catches the light beautifully as the sun glints off its sweeping, elegant lines. It’s a stunning backdrop for the iconic Rail Bridge.  We could see along the full coastline of East Lothian, its undulating land and its terminus at North Berwick Law where the land turned from our view. The conical outline of the Law was a perfect match for the peaks of East and West Lomond behind us. Across the Forth was the unmistakable outline of Edinburgh. The knobbly upthrust of Arthur’s Seat and the sloping plane of Salisbury Crags added a touch of drama to the cityscape. 

And of course, standing in a place that I normally see from the opposite shore, I looked across the water to Portobello. I was seeing my home in the landscape that it inhabits from a whole new perspective.

Fact File

Start: Aberdour train station

Finish: Burntisland train station

Public transport: Regular trains from Edinburgh on the Fife line stop at both stations.

My route: Exited Aberdour station on the side of the ticket office. A cycle/pedestrian path is signed to the left, along the left edge of the car park. Followed this past Aberdour Castle. Where it meets a road, crossed the road and immediately opposite a path begins signed for Silver Sands. Followed this towards the beach where it picks up the Fife Coastal Path and followed that towards Burntisland. The path approaches Burntisland at new houses on the left and for the second time it goes under the railway line. Didn’t go under the railway line but left the Coastal Path at this point, following blue cycle path sign to the left. Straight on at a mini roundabout then right at the next bigger roundabout. Crossed the road and walked up Grange Road. At the top of the hill went straight on, ignoring the “private road” sign as there is through access for walkers. At the very top there is an exit for walkers out onto the Cowdenbeath Road. Immediately opposite the footpath for the Binn is signed up into the woods. Followed the path up through the woods, across an open meadow, through a gate into an open field and just ahead there is another green walking sign pointing to the Binn. This took us to the top. We followed the ridge eastwards then descended at the far end back into woods. At the four-way crossroads in the path where there are large boulders, we turned right, following a path back down through the woods to the back end of Burntisland at the golf club. Followed our noses down to the main street where it’s worth stopping to look at the lovely old Port Buildings. Walked to the far west end of the main street and turned left for the station.

Fife - Smell the sea and feel the sky

Running for 117 miles along the coast of Fife like a long piece of squiggly string laid along the edge of the land is the Fife Coastal Path. It runs through an incredible variety of landscapes and since walking stretches of it a few years back, I’d forgotten what an absolute delight it is. So when my old friend Bart was visiting, I decided to head there for the weekend to show him something a bit different to his usual mountainous home in the Pyrenees. Over two days, we walked the section of the path between Leuchars and Leven.

The first few miles were at odds with the rest of the trip as we were accompanied by rumbling traffic beside a busy main road. It was a relief when the route then joined a section of disused railway line to continue into the genteel atmosphere of St Andrews. Pringle-jumpered golfers practised their swing and throngs of tourists milled around the quaint streets of the ancient town centre. The old harbour provided us with a haven, its stone walls reaching out into a still, blue sea like a pincer claw.

The outline of Fife is often likened to a Scottie dog’s head and as we left St Andrews we were starting the long trek along the coast towards the dog’s nose at Fife Ness. The coastline here was an interesting juxtaposition. For a few miles we were walking along rugged beaches where wild geese dropped out of big skies to land on quiet bays and bruise-coloured clouds sent down the rain in drenching sheets. Then the next few miles we found ourselves crossing luxury golf courses. Two soggy, damp hikers with sheep poo on their shoes mixing with smartly dressed, wealthy golfers. 

There was great variety as well. At one point the trail headed inland and cut a route across farms and fields where we picked blackberries for an evening dessert. Then we returned to the coast through the lush, dripping gorge of a river, overhung with trees and green ferns. The beaches themselves switched between sweeping crescents of pale or russet sand that were a joy to walk on to rough beaches of rocks and boulders that tired us out.

By the time we reached the Scottie dog’s nose and turned the corner, it was early evening. A grassy shelf on a quiet bay provided the night’s wild camp spot. To the east there was sea as far as the eye could see. But to the south the water was broken by the squat outline of the Island of May. With sheer cliffs at one end like a huge baleen plate and a tapering tail at the other, the island made me think of a giant whale drifting on the surface of the sea.

Next morning, under a hot, late summer sun, we continued our trek west down our Scottie dog's chin. Our view was no longer endless sea now but the distant coastline of East Lothian on the other side of the Firth of Forth. The unmistakable hump of North Berwick Law was our sundial, its ever-changing angle marking the passage of time and distance. The morning sun picked out the guano-covered lump of the Bass Rock rising sheer from the sea and there were sea monsters as well in the bizarre shaped rock formations along our route. 

As we trekked further west, the character of the walk changed again as the Coastal Path linked together the charming old fishing villages of the East Neuk. The route stuck faithfully to the shore here so that we found ourselves walking through charming, old harbours and along quaint promenades where the fisher cottages were so close to the sea that you could cast a line from your bed. The old villages here were lovely with stone buildings stacked steeply above the harbours and narrow cobbled lanes winding between them. Some of the old harbours were obviously devoted to leisure craft these days but those at Pittenweem and Anstruther still had working boats bringing in the fish.

As we trekked the final few miles along the sweeping sandy beach of Largo Bay, the path meandered through sweet smelling dunes. On our horizon, the industrial outline of Leven clamoured up into the big skies that we’d enjoyed for the last two days. It signalled the end of our walk as offshore oilrigs drifted on the surface of the sea instead of whale-like islands.

Fact File

More photos on Flickr - click HERE.

Start: Leuchars

Finish: Leven

Public transport: Train from Edinburgh to Leuchars. Bus from Leven to Kirkcaldy then train back to Edinburgh.

Our route: On exiting the train station turned right along Station Road and then left along Toll Road - at the bottom the Fife Coastal Path is joined. The route is very well signed so I won't set it out here but maps and info can be found on the Fife Coastal Path website. Note that a couple of sections between St Andrews and Fife Ness need to be passed when the tide is not high. On entering Leven we left the promenade and followed signs for the bus station, a couple of minutes walk away. In Kirkcaldy got off the bus at the stop before the bus station as that's closer to the train station.

Lochnagar - The high life

Culicoides Impunctatus is a small, biting fly found in summer throughout the wet, boreal regions of the world, including Scotland. The males emerge first in May, followed a week later by the females. It’s the females that bite as they need to have a blood meal before they lay their eggs. Those eggs hatch into larvae which then morph into flying adults. All of this takes only two weeks so there is a constant supply of billions of biting beasts on the summer air. 

You may wonder why I’m delivering a biology lesson at the start of this blog but if I told you that the common name in Scotland for Culicoides Impunctatus is “midge” you would know how it dominates the thoughts of outdoor folk over the summer months. Its black clouds can fair ruin a picnic stop and make camping miserable. There are some things you can do to escape midges:

1) Never go outdoors between May and September.

2) Head to the cooler, drier east coast.

3) Head high into cold air and a breeze.

And so, for a summer assault on the much-anticipated Munro of Lochnagar, my friend Graham and I decided to avoid the midges by staying high!

Lochnagar is one Munro on a mountain massif in the eastern Grampians that also holds another four Munros in close proximity. We set out to climb all five. The most common approach is from the north but we decided to tackle the hills from Glen Clova in the south. This gave us a long walk in from the head of the glen on a stinking hot, late afternoon. The hills soon crowded in above the glen in broken rock walls as the track climbed. Much of the glen was quite dreary but high up near the end, the path entered a surprising little woodland at Bachnagairn - you would never have guessed it was up there. Larch trees dressed a pretty gorge and enticing pools, while the air was filled with evening birdsong. 

A little zig-zagging path ascends from the woods up onto the open hillside and by the time we were plodding up it, the ferocity had gone out of the sun. The hills were now bathed in the soft light of a summer evening. We pitched the tents high on a bealach at 700m. It was a lumpy spot on tussocky grass but there was a view of Mount Keen in the open tent door and a real sense of space up here. There were no midges.

Next morning, our high camp spot gave us an early start on the first two Munros of the day, Broad Cairn and Cairn Bannoch. I liked the top of Cairn Bannoch (broad rocky hill), with its flat, pancake boulders that were pleasant to walk on. It gave views across our walk ahead and our walk already behind us, as well as across the undulating high ground all around. These high moors were a grand place to be on that day with big views, barely a soul around and easy walking that hardly rose or fell. 

The next two Munros, Carn an t-Sagairt Mor (rocky hill of the big priest) and Carn a Choire Bhoidheach (rocky hill of the beautiful coire), were merely pimples on the massif and easy deviations from the good path we were now on. The path crossed a couple of high level streams and we marvelled at the incessant flow of water in our hills in Scotland, even after this summer’s exceptional dry weather. It shows how the hills must be like a giant sponge, holding unimaginable amounts of water. 

With four Munros ticked off and the day creeping into the afternoon, it was time to strike out for the final climb up Lochnagar itself which had been teasing us all day on our distant horizon. As we approached the top, the atmosphere of the day changed as we joined a throng of people picking their way up from the more popular northern approach. We waited in turn to scramble up onto the summit proper. It’s not how I usually like my hills! But that said, nothing could detract from the drama of this place. 

The summit was a rocky tor of big, stacked boulders that rested on the rim of Lochnagar’s jewel, its northern corrie. Sheer rock cliffs plummeted to the coire floor and gashes that you could peer down from the edge made you giddy. There’s a pretty chain of interlinked lochans in the coire, the largest of which, Lochan na Gaire, gives its name to the hill above and means small loch of noise.

Our path followed the top rim of the coire eastwards, an airy walk above the cliffs, and picked its way through boulders where ptarmigan and their large chicks hopped around more expertly than us. The route then dropped late in the day to a high, grassy shelf at 900m, a little way below the top, where we made camp for our second night. A group of walkers on their descent passed our tents as we made supper but they were the last, and thereafter we had the mountain to ourselves. There were no midges.

In camping high for a second night we had hoped not only to avoid midges but also to walk back up to the top early next day and see the rising sun illuminate the coire from the east. But the following morning was clagged in with drizzly mist and low cloud, and there was nothing for it but to begin the walk out. A path descended sharply to the east down the course of the Glas Allt burn, unremarkable at first in the gloom with only the vibrant blues of harebells lighting the day. But it soon becomes steeper and descends into the gorge of the Glas-allt-Shiel waterfall. After the dry spell its waters were the gentlest veil over the rocks. 

The path eventually dropped down to the woods that fringe the shores of Loch Muick. It was a pretty spot with little sandy beaches that enticed us to stop for a picnic. But as soon as we stood still, the gathering midges attacked and chased us from the place, speeding us on our way to the end of the walk. The high life was behind us and we were now low life!

Fact File

Start/finish: Glen Doll car park

Transport: We used Graham’s car as the Angus Glens are poorly served by public transport. 

Our route: Took the right of way to the right just before the bridge which is just before the car park and trekked up the glen passed Moulzie. At the head of the glen the track enters the woods at Bachnagairn. It splits after a short while and we took the right hand split which immediately crosses a wooden bridge. Followed this good path up onto the moors and camped at the bealach here below Broad Cairn. The stream close to the top of the path was running for drinking water even in the dry weather. Path up and over Board Cairn was easily followed and onto Cairn Bannoch. Path then strikes out west across the moor towards Carn an t-Saigairt Mor. It eventually junctions with another very good path on the lower slopes of Carn an t-Sagairt Mor. At the junction a path heads up the Munro, a quick and easy detour. Returned to the very good path and followed it all the way northeast to Lochnagar, with another very easy detour on a good path to Carn a’Choire Bhoidheach. From the top of Lochnagar followed the rim of the coire to Meikle Pap for a good view back to the cliffs. Retraced our steps a little then dropped down to near the start of the Glas Allt burn. Just enough of a space for two small tents. Next day followed the very good path down the Glas Allt to Loch Muick then walked around the west end of Loch Muick to pick up the good path that climbs steeply back to Coire Chash and our first night’s camp spot. Returned to the car park via the outward route.

Atholl - When do I ever stay in a hotel

For last year's birthday I received from a friend a book called the Bothy Bible. It set out for the first time in print all the bothies in Scotland and included a wee bit about each bothy's history and its stories. It really perked my interest in bothies. A lot of outdoor folk bemoaned the book stating that it would make the bothies more accessible which risked misuse and vandalism. But I thought if more people know about bothies then more people will care for them and protect them. Leafing through my book one evening, a bothy caught my eye that I'd heard about in hillwalking circles as something of a legend - the Feith Uaine Bothy. Not that I'd heard it by that name. I'd heard it called its more common name - the Tarf Hotel. Tucked away in the remote hills and high moors near the headwaters of the River Tilt, it's a mini expedition to get there. But I spotted that I could combine a visit to the Tarf Hotel with two equally remote Munros that I hadn't climbed yet. Added to this, it was sure to guarantee some peace and solitude, and an escape from a hot, busy summer at home in the city. 

The rough track up Glen Tilt provided a long approach by bicycle in the gathering dusk of a late summer evening. A grassy shelf by the river provided the first night's camp spot. Next morning, with the bike stashed in the woods, I set out on foot up the remainder of the glen. The purples of thyme, foxgloves and heather contrasted with the rich summer greens of the hills. Here and there a dragonfly would zoom past in strong, purposeful flight. Dragonflies enthrall me with their dazzling, ephemeral beauty. They were amongst the first flying insects to evolve 300 million years ago and fossils have indicated that at that time they had a two-foot wingspan. They are such a successful species that they have barely changed since, albeit they got a little smaller!

The Glen Tilt track eventually leaves the river, shoulders the hill and drops on the far side to the Tarf Water. Despite this year's exceptional long, dry spell, l still had to take the boots off to wade across so goodness knows what it's like in spate. It already felt remote and empty here and that feeling was enhanced as I climbed the first Munro, An Sgarsoch, meaning place of sharp rocks. Frustrating, pathless, deep heather lower down gave way to short, springy turf as I climbed that was a joy to walk on. Views opened up to the vast empty lands around me and the seemingly endless layers of hills in every direction. The Cairngorms stretched out to the north, a familiar and unmistakable compass point. In the far distance I could see the deep rock cut of the Window on Creag Meagaidh. And closer at hand were the two other Atholl Munros, Carn a' Chlamain and Beinn Dearg. Nestled down at the foot of these on a green sward where the Feith Uaine burn and the Tarf Water joined together, was the Tarf Hotel, a tiny speck from up here.

There was another Munro to do before I could head to the Bothy, Carn an Fhidhleir, meaning rocky hill of the fiddler, an easy climb from the bealach between it and An Sgarsoch. Then a delightful meandering stream whose u-bends I must have criss-crossed twenty times, provided a route back down to the glen to pick up a path through long summer grasses to the bothy. 

The Tarf Hotel is a big bothy with three separate rooms. Nobody else was around or arrived later. Despite the fact that I'd planned to camp again for my second night out, I loved this place so much that I decided to stay. l chose to sleep in the wooden annex whose generous windows looked east back down the glen. The Feith Uaine burn babbled close by and despite its meaning (green river) provided crystal clear drinking water. 

The bothy was previously an estate shooting lodge although it's believed it was built from the ruins of a black house dating back to the 1680s. It fell into disuse and dereliction by the 1930s but in 1992 it was taken over and renovated by the Mountain Bothies Association. Its affectionate name of the Tarf Hotel comes from the old, yellow AA "hotel" sign that's been nailed to the door!

It's a place of immense peace and quiet, the only sounds the wind and the water. In the evening I sat with my cuppa on the doorstep as the sun dipped in the west. The air was full of insects and in the sun's low beams they were dancing specks of golden light. Before long the sun dropped behind the hills, casting a chill on the evening air and a grainy, grey light through the night, so characteristic of summer in the hills.

It didn't seem like the sun had been gone for long before it was up again next morning and flooding my room with light from the east. An early room service call to begin the long trek back.

Fact File

Start/finish: Blair Atholl train station

Public transport: Trains between Edinburgh/Glasgow and Inverness stop at Blair Atholl.

My route: I used the folding bike to save having to prebook on the train. Out of the station I turned right on the main road then left after the bridge then left again at a fork for Old Blair. A little way along here the track up Glen Tilt begins on the right beside a lodge house. I camped and stashed the bike at the last of the trees beyond Forest Lodge. Further on the track splits as the glen narrows and I took the left split over to the Tarf Water. Crossed the river here beside a barn and used the riverside track west a little way before ascending the south ridge of An Sgarsoch via Sron na Macranaich. Dropped to the bealach and climbed up the other side to the ridge of Carn an Fhidhleir where there was a path to the top. To descend headed south from the top then dropped down to the Allt a Chaorainn to follow it to where it joined the Tarf Water. I never come across a stream that meanders as much as this one. There was a faint path from here to the bothy requiring the Tarf Water to be crossed again. Returned via the same route. 

West Fife - Into the bad lands

Bordering West Fife and Clackmannanshire is a big, green splodge on the map dotted by blue lochans and cross-hatched with a network of paths and trails. It’s called Devilla Forest. I’d seen photos of it online with early morning sun casting beams of golden light through old pine trees and I wanted to be there. So I strung together a summer cycle route into deepest Fife.

Devilla means “bad farm” and it’s thought that the name derives from the bad farming land to the north. Like much of Fife, the area today is largely devoted to farming but there are pleasing pockets of woodlands and flowery hedgerows with an ever-present sense of the sea to the south. Devilla is conveniently linked to Dunfermline by the West Fife Cycleway, a former railway line that speeds you out of town towards the Ochil Hills. But before it gets there, a rough farm track branches off and bumps its way into Devilla Forest. Despite the proximity of towns here, there was a wild atmosphere to the place and it was a while before I saw another soul.

The forest itself is a rich mosaic of habitats. There’s plenty commercial forestry of course but also open meadows and sections of track that pass through leafy broadleaved woods and skirt the edges of reed-fringed lochs. The highlight is a trail that loops through the ancient pine woods in the forest, a lowland stronghold of red squirrels. The dark waters of the lochan here reflected the bobbing heads of bog cotton and were danced over by dazzling blue damselflies.

There are interesting little snippets of history in the forest as well. I cycled by the Standard Stone, a large, flat stone with deep depressions. According to local legend, MacBeth and Banquo were defeated here by a Danish army in the Battle of Bordie Moor in 1038. However, the exact origin of the stone is not known, although usually such stones were where Scots placed their battle standards. But it could also be the placement for an ancient boundary marker or a wooden gallows.

As I cycled south out of the forest towards the Forth Estuary, I made a detour to a poignant little memorial. The bike bumped along a narrow path, pushing aside the overhanging, lush summer vegetation. The afternoon air was thick and hot now and filled with the buzz of busy insects. Where a stile crossed a fence, I left the bike and picked my way through thick bushes and trees, not really sure what I was expecting to find. But a little way further on I came upon the Plague Grave. This simple grave in the woods marks the last resting place of Robert, Agnes and Jean, the three children of James Bald who all died on the same day in 1645 of the plague. It was custom then to bury people who died of the plague out in the fields and presumably in the intervening 350 plus years, the woods had grown up around it. Despite the passage of so much time, local people obviously care for the grave because it was decorated with flowers, baubles and toys. 

From the Plague Grave, a rough farm track then continued south to the coast at the pretty village of Culross. Founded in the 6th century and once a busy port, the village has retained many of its beautiful historical buildings, such as the palace and town house, and numerous old cobbled streets. From Culross the cycle route travels east along the north shore of the Forth, passing old harbours and quiet beaches, before it reaches the Forth Bridges. From here you can turn north back into deepest Fife or, as I did, turn south and cycle over the quiet old Forth Bridge to Edinburgh.

Fact File

Start: Dunfermline

Finish: Edinburgh

Transport: Train to Dunfermline Town train station.

My route: I crossed to the east side of the train line, cycled downhill then swung right at the roundabout. Straight ahead a little further on is the south entrance to Pittencrieff Park. Cycled the main route through the park and out the top end. Straight up the road opposite, then left at the T junction then right on the next busier road. The Cycleway begins soon after on the left. The branch trail to Devilla is signed and is a bit rough in places though the trails are good once in the forest. I cycled the Red Squirrel Trail then followed signs for the Coastal Cycleway which picked a nice off-road route through to Culross.  From here the National Cycle Network can be followed to and over the Forth Bridges back to Edinburgh.

Info: A lovely coffee shop in Culross next to the palace – Bessie’s Café – with gluten free cakes. 

Deeside Way - Rails to trails

If people were given the power to travel back in time, most people might choose to travel back to some tragic event and change the future for the better. For example, you might wish to travel back to April 1912 and persuade the captain of the Titanic to take a different course; or to Linz in 1898 where you would slip into the bedroom of a young Adolf Hitler and smother him with a pillow. But on a sunny Sunday in Deeside when my cycling friend Graham asked the hypothetical question as we pedalled along the trail, the answer that popped into my head was travelling back to 1963 to derail the Beeching Report. Dr Beeching’s 1960s review of railway infrastructure led to a massive cull of our railway network. It’s never really recovered and the line closures were a crucial factor that set in place the move to car-based transport systems and the deterioration of our public transport networks. And we all know the problems that’s brought.

That might seem a slightly random answer to Graham’s question but not if you realised that we were cycling along the Deeside Way at the time. It’s a long distance walking and cycling trail that mostly uses the bed of the old Deeside Railway which was … you’ve guessed … closed by the Beeching Report. Mind you, in some ways I shouldn’t grumble because all over the country these old railway lines have been turned to cycle trails, offering easy, flat cycling away from traffic. But I think I’d rather have the trains back!

The Deeside Way runs for 41 miles between Aberdeen and Ballater, and we were cycling it as day trips from a campsite base in Aboyne. For much of the way we were ensconced in woods where the straight-as-an-arrow trail could be seen for miles ahead as it formed a tunnel through green, broadleaved trees or between tall, majestic pines. In warm sun, the pines cast their sweet aroma on the air which always reminds me of cycling through the mountains in Portugal. Added to this, the trackside gorse was still in bloom and added its canary colour and coconut aroma to the scene. In other places, the trail was not straight but a pleasing meander through the woods with gentle curves wherever tree trunks formed a chicane.

I said above that rails-to-trails routes are mostly flat but between Aboyne and Banchory the Deeside Way leaves the old railway line and does a couple of stiff climbs. The first was a series of “s” bends on a singletrack path that wound its way up into wooded hills before dropping back down to the River Dee at Kincardine O’Neil, the oldest village on Deeside. 

The second climb was a more gradual but longer pull up through Slewdrum Woods. Near the top it swung by the popular walking and biking trails of Scolty Hill, which had a nice outdoorsy vibe. It then plummeted down to Banchory and our hearts sank – this was an out and back ride so we would have to do both climbs again on the return leg. Luckily all the smart, little towns around here have great coffee shops for refuelling with cake. Our favourite was the beautiful café in the old waiting room of the former train station in Aboyne.

The cycling on the Deeside Way itself was great but there were also a couple of brilliant detours from the route. The first was the ancient pine wood of Glen Tanar, a short ride from Aboyne along quiet back roads and then forest trails. Sitting for a while up here we enjoyed the evening sunshine and the peace and surrounding nature of St Lesmo’s Chapel on the edge of the woods. Bluebells nodded in the breeze while swooping swallows and the gentle ring of the chapel’s bell filled the summer air.

The second detour was near Dinnet to a place I’d always wanted to see – the Burn O’Vat. We parked up the bikes and set out walking along a gorgeous forest trail passing huge boulders called erratics, left by the retreating glaciers of the last Ice Age. Suddenly the trail appeared to end at a wall of these big boulders but, on getting closer, we could see the stream flowing out and a narrow gap through which we could squeeze. We stood in awe and delight on the other side as we found ourselves in the Vat, a huge pothole measuring 18 metres across and 13 high.  

The pothole was formed by the melting of the vast ice sheets that covered this area 16,000 years ago. It is thought that a rock from the meltwater stream became lodged in a hollow on the river bed, causing the water to flow around it in a spiralling motion. Over a long period of time this created the pothole and over subsequent millenia the pothole half-filled with silt which was what we were standing on to gawp up at the Vat. 

The Deeside Way ends at the beautiful Victorian train station in Ballater which is currently in the latter stages of its renovation. Later in 2018 it will re-open as a new museum when it will be a fitting end point for the route. My friend Graham and I both agreed that we would love to ride this rails-to-trails route again for that reason alone, never mind the pretty towns and scenery. 

Until then I’ll be working at perfecting my time travel skills so I can go back to 1963 and thwart the dastardly Dr Beeching.

Fact File

Start/finish: Aboyne

Transport: On this rare occasion we used Graham's car to save money on train fares and to cycle for a change without carrying all the kit. But the route can be accessed by train from Aberdeen and starts there in Duthie Park.

Route: We stayed at Aboyne Loch Caravan Park which has a small area for tents. The Deeside Way is right at the entrance to the camspite and links it to Aboyne itself. First day we cycled east beyond Banchory. Second day we cycled the west section to Ballater, leaving the route as it neared Cambus O'May to take the A93 then the B9119 to Muir of Dinnet Nature Reserve where there is a visitor centre and waymarked trails including that to the Vat. For the detour to Glen Tanar we cycled south over the Dee at Aboyne then right on the B976. Glen Tanar is signposted at Bridge o'Ess. Again there's a small visitor centre and a network of trails. The whole Deeside Way route is very well signed.

Info: The best coffee shop (of many good ones in and en route to the area) was in Aboyne, called Spider on a Bicycle, a beautiful place in the old station waiting room.