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| Dunnet Head lighthouse - The Start! |
Day 2 - 20kms from Helmsdale
Coming round the side of a steep river valley, the trail is narrow but I’ve hoiked my bike through a bog for the last hour so I’m pleased to be riding. The trail ahead looks a bit too technical so I slow down to walk the next bit.
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| Steeper than it looks in the photo |
I go to put my foot, but the ground isn’t there. I try to throw my weight to the other side but it doesn’t work. In that moment I know I’m going to fall. Teetering on the edge of balance in a moment that stretches out, I have two thoughts “protect your knees” and “Rachel you bloody idiot”.
I tumble down the side of the valley. The bikes comes round over my head. Tangled up in the bike I slide down the heathery slope. Picking up speed as I slide towards the river, I reach out trying to grab hold of something to stop my decent. The first few grabs just pull strands of heather out of the ground. I wonder if I’ll fall all the way into the river. Eventually I get my fingers into a thick growth of heather and I come to a stop in a divot in the valley, mostly underneath my bike.
Breathe, breathe, breathe. I don’t move for about 30 seconds while I process what just happened. I’m all on my own, if I’d knocked myself out no-one would come looking for me, and I doubt anyone else will traverse this remote section of trail on a cold Monday in February. But I’m not knocked out and this is what I chose to do with my holiday. I decide it’s not a moment for introspection; I still need to get out of this situation. My emergency tracker is on the bike, I reach for it and put it into a pocket, just in case I get separated from my bike.
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| It felt like I fell for miles, in reality it was maybe 3m down the side |
I realise there is blood trickling down my face, I must have split my lip. I blot the blood off my face with the back of my glove, I am otherwise unharmed. Gingerly I start to untangle from bike. One wrong move and I might start sliding further down the valley. I manage to stand and realise the only way to is to haul my bike back up to trail.
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| Bleeding lip - when I thought this was all the damage |
20 mins later, I’m back at the trail. I check over the bike, the rear mudguard has snapped off, I locate some cable ties to fix it back on. Remarkably nothing else is out place. I pull out a water bottle to have quick drink. I let out a yelp, excruciating pain shoots from my thumb. I pull off my glove, hand looks normal, but my thumb won’t bend. I wonder if it dislocated falling off the bike*. I definitely can’t change gear on it, but muscle memory tells me I can curl my fingers round to change up a gear and use the heel of my hand to change down. In any case I’ll be pushing my bike for the next wee bit until the trail is wider and there isn’t such a steep drop off on the side.
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| Getting round storm damage |
Eventually the trail widens and the valley flattens out, I start to ride carefully. I need to get to Helmsdale before the Spar closes to get a resupply. The trail becomes farm track and I reach for my phone, I’m back into phone reception. I feel the need to let the world know I’m alive. Not that the world knew I was in any danger of not being so. Glancing down I see blobs of blood weeping out the shin of my leggings. I roll up the left leg, while nothing hurts, the gash is significant enough to warrant digging steristrips from my first aid kit.
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| surprise leg wound (leggings still intact!) |
Patched up I carry on to the road, where the café is closed (out of season) and the wind has picked up and it’s starting to drizzle. Peddling on the A9 to Helmsdale I ignore how cold I am until I’m almost there. By the time I get to Spar I’m shivering pretty hard, and this is not good. Plans to camp tonight are abandoned and I book into the cheapest hotel in the village. I turn the radiator up to max pull on my big jacket and lie downwhile I wait for my body to warm up, I contemplate all the mistakes that day. These are the top 3.
1 – not eating (or drinking) enough
2- getting frustrated about progress
3 – not putting on layers as soon as it got a bit cold
This was my worst day on the Pictish Trail.
The other 6 days were absolutely fantastic.
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| Top of Fungle Road |
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| having a wonderful time in the sun |
I’d spent Saturday battling with British rail to get myself and my bike up to Thurso. Many thanks to the nice staff at Inverness station who sorted out getting my bike on the rail replacement bus. The trail starts at Dunnet Head and winds down estate tracks, forgotten roads and the odd bit of single track. I’d managed to align a (sort of) weather window with a week off of work while the forecast was to be cold it didn’t look to wet, and a great opportunity to test out some pieces of kit.
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| The Pictish Trail |
The Far North East – is a totally different landscape and not a part of Scotland I travel to often. The views were spectacular and I stopped to take so many photos, the hills rise up out of the bog like something out of a movie. There are endless opportunities for wild camping beside loachans
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| Views over Morven (I think) |
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| Endless Wildcamp spots |
Bridges of the Pictish Trail – if you’re a fan of dodgy lookin bridges then the pictish trail is for you! I never had to ford any of the river so managed to largely keep my feet dry. Although on some of the crossings I found myself making a contingency plan for what I do if the bridge collapsed under me.
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| The worst one, I really worried I might fall down the hole |
Camping and the Cold
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| Hot coffee in the morning |
The forecast was to get well below zero most nights. I own a winter sleeping bag, I chose to leave it at home. Instead I took my 3° summer quilt and a bunch of layers, to see if it would be warm enough. To be honest I was worried I’d be too cold to sleep overnight, but it was actually surprisingly and delightful cosy. Even if all my water froze overnight.
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| Stunningly beautiful spot |
Full disclosure – it was far too cold to take any layers off and change. Also, unusually for me, I wasn’t even that sweaty, so I didn’t take any clothes off overnight I just added more on. Full list of leeping layers – Top half sports bra, short sleeved riding shirt, arm warmers, gillet, wind jacket, Senchi fleece hoodie, Rab cirrus Ultra jacket. Bottom half – pants, decathlon leggings, baggy shorts, thin fleece trousers, synthetic insulated trousers, merino socks, down booties.
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| All of the Layers |
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| When sleeping just my nose was poking out |
The main bonus of this set up was being up to pack up all my stuff in the morning and take the final layers off a moment before starting riding. Rather than getting out of a warm sleeping bag and pack down the tent getting increasingly cold.
Having my filter bottle freeze was a bit of a shame, apparently it breaks the membrane, I should have slept with this inside my jacket. I also discovered if you rinse your pee cloth in the morning it will freeze solid if dangled off the front of the bike!
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| F*ckd filter bottle :-( |
Batteries also struggled in the cold. My kindle didn’t want to work, phone didn’t want to charge and garmin was confused about it’s charge level.
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| when not covered in ice this tent is a lovely bright green |
Creepy Estate houses
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| Read this article after I got back, thank goodness I didn't camp here |
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The trail
The trail itself was brilliant, such a lovely route. I particularly enjoyed traversing the snowy Fungle road and the pass from Glen Calvie to Evanton. I’d never ridden either section before and they had a lovely remote feel, traversing historic trail.
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| Riding into Sunset |
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| Climbing out of Glen Avon |
In fact I didn’t see a single other rider all week (other than in Inverness), I guess February isn’t exactly high season for bikepacking. Riding from Tomintoul over to Cock bridge, I found another set of solo bike tracks in the snow. I like to imagine the other rider was also out having an epic adventure.
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| Fungle Road Hike a Bike |
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| Mystery rider ahead |
I wouldn’t want to overhype Pictish trail, for other people not to enjoy it as much, but honestly I had a really great week, riding through parts of Scotland I’d never been before. I would thoroughly recommend it and would definitely do again.
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| somewhere South of Forres |
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| Glen Calvie by moonlight |
*I went to minor injuries once I got home and eventually got seen by orthopeadics – it turns out I have damaged a ligament in my thumb, should have been straight into a plaster cast and am not allowed to drive for 6 weeks! Oh well.
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| One more Bridge photo to finish |
