My Country

Started in 2013, but the product of a life-times obsession, My Country is a cycling blog dedicated to documenting the things I get up to on my bike.

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Glentress and back

Updated 28th July 2017 (three years and two days from the original post!) Of all the things I ever wrote for this blog, this is the one thing that consistently brings in a trickle of traffic (seemingly there's value in the search term 'how to ride to Glentress').

In an attempt to appease the SEO gods, I have updated this guide for your collective enjoyment. 

As always, you can keep up with my grown-up cycling exploits on BikeRadar.

In the midst of a particularly furious Google maps session, I was surprised to discover that the beginning of the Black descent at Glentress lay only 17 miles South of my flat as the crow flies.

With the #29durr perfect for such an expedition, I planned a route to the trail that would take me through Gore Glen, past Gladhouse Reservoir, up Bowbeat Windfarm and through Glentress Forest to the top of Dundreich Hill.

I also decided to take the return leg via the Cloich Hills and the Pentlands to maximise the day’s single-track potential. The final route came in at around 120km and I set off the following morning in oppressively damp conditions.

Though there are off-road options available, I took a relatively direct route to Gore Glen via Lasswade and Bonnyrig, turning off the B704 just before it crosses the A7 to join a right of way that took me straight down to the Glen.

Only a few hundred meters down the trail, I had to stop dead in my tracks as I was confronted by an uncontrolled, equine nemesis.

Proceeding cautiously past my four-legged-foe, I made short work of the wonderful, twisty single-track through the Glen that ejected me in Temple a few kilometres later.

The roads between here and Gladhouse reservoir were very pleasant and I soon found myself at the deserted visitor’s carpark. I had the grassy trail which circumnavigates the shores of the reservoir to myself and I thoroughly enjoyed drying out and watchin squally showers pass over the Moorfoots beneath a dense copse of pines.  

The shore trail eventually emerges at Moorfoot Farm and from there a land drover track follows the course of South Esk for several kilometres until it takes a sharp right at the base of Dundreich Hill.

The climb up Dundreich is rideable at first but as you pass a wrecked crow-trap, it becomes increasingly vague and steep.

A short tramp westward took me onto the very boggy ridge that descends south towards Bowbeat windfarm. The highest point of this ridge is marked by a line of little concrete tombstones, which follow the path of a buried cable and reminded me of my very exposed position.

Reaching the windfarm, I was thankful for the return to well-paved surfaces and descended much too fast towards Grizzly Knowe. From here until the top of Dundreich Hill, I made my way through a maze of disorientating and claustrophobic fire roads.

Although I make every excuse to lament the wussification of trail centres in Scotland, the Black run at Glentress has not been subject to any taming. My forearms were ruined after Deliverance, but things became much more fun once I loosened up and harnessed my inner flow-demon.

After a quick spin up to the Buzzards Nest and a blast down the Red, I headed into Peebles, stocked up on some food and continued along the old railway which follows the path of the A703.

This is followed as far as Wormiston, where a short climb east leads you to the old drove road to Shiplaw. From here, I took a left towards the Cloich Hills and followed more desolate fireroads which gradually descend towards the A701.

Small roads led me to Carlops, which marked the rather dramatic entrance into the Pentlands. Lined with seemingly endless sheep shit, the climb out of Carlops was very damp and steep enough to be memorable. My efforts didn’t go unrewarded and as the light began to fail, I made my way across the slow and technical single-track that descended through the misty gloom towards Listonshields.

From here, the trail headed East again towards Theripmuir Reservoir and I was back down the Water of Leith and through the now pitch black Meadows by 10:00pm. 

 This was one of the most memorable days I’ve ever had out on a mountain bike and I cannot wait to do it again without the faff of navigating over fresh terrain.

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Hey friends, long time no chat. I just wanted to leave a little note here so it’s clear that I’m not a dead doggo. To coin the jape of of average friend (and now colleague), Matthew Allen, my career has taken a great leap forward and as of about three months ago, I became a full time industry insider douchebag and started as a staff writer at BikeRadar.  Unsurprisingly, my time is now spent penning wisdom for the man, so the likelihood of me maintaining this wee blog with any kind of regularity has diminished greatly. I may post the odd snap from time to time, but otherwise this will remain as an archive of my pre grown-up life that once was.  My advice to any of you who stumble upon this post and think, “cool! This l’il Scottish dude has landed the dream job, I want that!” is to start a blog, take a bunch of snaps and ride your bike lots. Simple, but proving you’re passionate about doing dumb junk on bikes strikes me as the most important thing you can do in my new environment. Until next time, keep an eye on my Instagram, stay positive and pull a sweet skid for me. (Snap from a somewhat ill fated trip to the Sierra de Guadarrama, North of Madrid last month)

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If there is one thing that me and my colleagues can be relied on for it’s indulging in a rowdy skid session on any given after-work ride.  There’s little more enjoyable than razzing about with your mates after a hard day touting hybrids and our near-weekly pilgrimage to ol’ Switchback Ridge never disappoints.  Here’s to the humble skid and the #AdventureDogsCC.

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Double Trouble - How To Ride 200 Miles

You could be forgiven for assuming that those who enjoy long distance riding simply suffer from an inability to feel their butt, an overwhelming desire to gorge themselves on bananas and a penchant for snoozing on park benches.

Despite these (fair) observations, I have come to realise through past failures, and now finally success, that there is more to the art of riding 200 miles than just mashing away at your pedals for 15 hours whilst ignoring the burning sensation in your knees.

The Route

In hindsight I realized that one of the biggest mistakes I made on my previous attempt at breaking the 200 mile mark was in my route choice. I enjoy riding through urban areas as much as rural as both offer different things to see. So in planning a route, I normally try to wind and weave across the country between towns I haven’t been through before.

Urban and rual highlights in Fife

However, riding through big towns invariably involves lots of stopping and starting as you move through traffic, bringing down your average speed considerably. A few minutes lost at every set of traffic lights quickly adds up and can be the difference between finishing at sensible-o’clock as opposed to stupid-o’clock.

So in planning this route, I opted to avoid busy town centres which made keeping my overall pace faster and my rhythm smoother. Simple stuff, but only once you’ve made the mistake a few times!

Despite this, I still indulged in a cheeky bit of gravel on the outskirts of Dunfermline at the start of the day alongside a dashing of singletrack along the Fife Coastal Path from Kirkcaldy to Burntisland on the return leg of my journey.

Although these indulgences definitely fall into the ‘unnecessary faff’ category, a bit of variation and the option to get a little gnarly on any ride should never be passed up.

Indulging in gravel.

The Food

Energy foods have never really worked for me*, so I’ve always erred on the side of slow release, carbo’ treats to get enough calories in me during a long ride. My favourites include bagels lathered in excessive amounts of peanut butter and honey and the ever dependable macaroni pie.

But recently I’ve begun to mix things up with spicy, cheesy, salad-y wraps to supplement my otherwise stodgy riding diet. Though it should come as no surprise, a bit of variation means food remains appetising and the spice keeps things… moving. No bad thing when hunched over your bike for hours at a time.

Most importantly though, I’ve begun to carry more food with me as opposed to relying on shops or cafes for sustenance. The faff of stopping at a backwater Spar, often leaving a bike unattended and hoping desperately that there will be something both tasty and vegetarian on offer is another stress I have discovered is best avoided.

*The exception being caffeinated Sports Beans which I find are both palatable and effective at the tail end of a long ride.

The Style

My core strength has improved greatly over the last few years which has meant I have to stop far less often to rest my weary back and shoulders during the course of a long ride.

Despite these improvements, I made a conscious effort to stop for shorter periods of quality rest over the course of this ride. In the past I would spend 20 minutes or more poring over maps and updating my acclaimed Insta-G with highly #curated, #artisan snaps from my day’s adventure.

Resting my weary pins, 150miles in.

I now try to avoid on concentrating on anything except rest, switching off completely for no more than ten minutes, preferably whilst horizontal with the sun heating up my weary pins.

Although I am making more ‘efficient’ use of my down time in this manner, this shorter period also stops my legs from stiffening up making getting back on my bike that bit easier.

All of these small improvements meant that I was far more comfortable as the miles rolled past than I have ever been before now on a long ride.

And now that my 200 mile goal has been met, it begs the question what next? A cursory Google Maps search reveals it’s 500km between here and Thurso. Maybe next summer...

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I’ve been trying to consolidate my cycling with as many visits to the mountains with my Dad as possible over the last couple of weeks and I’ve been loving every minute of it.  I’ve climbed my whole life, but much like my interest in long distance cycling, my tastes in rock have matured. Now I’m as happy squeezing up a chossy V. Diff chimney with a hood full of drizzle as I ever was clinging, sweaty palmed to some desperate, sun baked Spanish sport route.  Photos taken from an aborted attempt up Tower Ridge on Ben Nevis via the Douglas Boulder and our hasty retreat down the Douglas Gap gully which quickly became a small river in the ensuing downpour. Also pictured; a short spin with my Da’ on a most beautiful Perthshire evening. 

*Title is an exceedingly niche reference to the book by famous Scottish climber, Dougal Haston.

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The Ochils, April 2016

Seemingly overnight, Spring has become Summer in Scotland and I’ve wholly embraced it by bike with both #tapsaff and #legsoot nearly every day this week. I’m clocking up more miles, both solo and with the increasingly adventurous Alpine Bikes #naughtyboizbikeclub and it feels good to be in good form again. It’s been almost two years since my last double century attempt and completing one still remains a long term goal of mine.

So with this new found fitness, I hope that this summer will bring nice weather, good vibes and favouring winds so that I can finally achieve this must fruitless of endeavours. I hope there will be many more snaps to share with you all in coming weeks.

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Bikepacking Strathearn, April 2016

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Wurst Stop, Leuchars, 2016

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The Bianchi Shred Sled, Dura Den, March 2016

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Self on the Bianchi Shred Sled in Tentsmuir Forest, March 2016

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Build Something Dumb

Industry insider and close friend, Matthew Allen recently published an excellent article about his well abused On-One Pompino which was his daily ride during his time working in Edinburgh.

The article prompted me to finally share my recently completed celeste princess, the romancéur porteúr.

Though this dorkified 1985 Bianchi Grizzly is distinctly more artisanally curated (ie, it looks cooler) than Matthew’s Pomp’, both bikes are cut from the same functional-parts-bin-build cloth.

And although I was looking for something to supplement my Croix de Fairy for touring and posing purposes, I primarily saw this build as a key opportunity to use up some of the huge stockpile of bike guff I’ve collected (hoarded) over the years.

My mum once described those who subscribe to religious beliefs solely in fear of the afterlife as ‘just incasers’. My approach to buying bike parts and subsequently whittling down this mound draws parallels with this. The three links from every chain I’ve shortened? You never know, I could make a whole one with enough split pins.

Starting from the ground up, a pair of XT M737 hubs which were rescued from a scrap bucket are laced to Mavic XC-717s which were pilfered from a friends ‘just incase’ pile.

Though I ran the bike for a couple of weeks with some well worn Maxxis Ardents, I felt they weren’t in keeping with the bikes #chilledoutsexyvibe and indulged in the BikeForums.net, weirdy-beardy favourite, the venerable Panaracer Pasela.

The drivetrain is a heady mix of XT, LX and Deore parts which are configured in a very trendy 1x8 set up. The eagle eyed will note I have used a 9 speed cassette, but I was unable to find the correct 11t cog to complete it, so in keeping with the bikes povo ethos, another 12t from a pile of scrap was used.

The bike even makes use of one of the many (really) UN72 bottom brackets I have stored in a box dedicated solely to these.

The finishing kit had all lived in a shed for years except for the fancy set-back Thomson seatpost. This was required to make the bike, which is quite clearly too small for me, fit my spaghetti-like figure.

With the Blackburn Outpost front rack now on the bike, my eBay watchlist is waiting to be filled with the pair of seemingly elusive 26” alloy mudguards needed to finish this eager, touring-oriented puppy.

I cannot be alone in discovering that the cycling world, both online and in meatspace, is filled with purchase-enablers who will have no doubt helped fill your cupboards which surplus crap.

Building a bike from the ground up is always a deeply gratifying experience, but this is especially the case when you are able to make use of said crap.

So do yourself a favour and take stock of your spare parts, buy a dumb frame to put them on, get the appropriately sized tan wall Paselas and enjoy a more smug life.

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The world would be a much more supple and friendly place if we all rolled on Paselas.  More good things to come from me and this bike in the next few weeks. 

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Inv-fear-keithing

Prior to the re-opening of the Forth Road Bridge after an almost 3 week closure following the discovery of a major crack on a structurally important section of the bridge, it was widely reported that Fife had gone ‘full Fall Out’.

Drinkable water was becoming scarce, food was running low, medicine supplies were nearly depleted and children and dogs ran amok.

In the spirit of adventuring in what was then, uncharted territory, I decided to brave a train journey to Inv-fear-keithing, forgo a paved route across the Kingdom and embark on my boldest ever day of artisanal grᴁveúel grinᴆinɠ. Ushered along by a fierce tailwind, I made my way quickly from Inverkeithing to Spaghetti* Bay along the A921 before turning Northward up a small lane leading me to the right of way which runs alongside Goat Quarry.

*Dalgety Following the perimeter of the quarry, this 5km section of single-track and forest access trails has everything a budding new-roader could hope for; mud, old stuff and post-industrial goodies.

Re-joining paved roads, I made my way over undulating and pleasant terrain passing landmarks such as Mossmorran ethelene plant, EWS’ Lochore railway depot and the Haig Headquarters in Markinch.

Approaching Star, I was once again on familiar terrain. The road leading East from Burnturk to Cults clings to a steep hillside and has wonderful views North over the Howe of Fife with Cupar, my next destination at the North-eastern end of the low valley.  

Descending steeply, I quickly passed through Cupar and began my way towards Wormit. Heading towards Kilmany in fading light, I passed the oddly handsome Myrecairnie hill.

Nestled amongst rolling fields, its diminutive height of 175m merely affords it the status of a ‘tump’ and barely breaks the horizon. Yet it possesses features akin to a hill double its size, with an impressive and steep drop on its South-western side.

My subsequent research about this lowly tump probably only illustrates that I was becoming quite tired at this stage of the ride.

Fife eventually ejected me at Tayport and I descended the Tay Bridge into Dundee around 5:00pm in the very last of the days light. Strava link here.

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Fife Bikepacking - S24H Trendy Trip

There’s more to Fife than linoleum, nails and ice cream. Along The Kingdoms coast, through its forests and among its rolling, hilly centre is a huge network of core paths, farm and forest access trails which with a little OS-fu, can be linked together into a very satisfying ride.

I’ve been completely taken by the riding in Fife since I first rode across it during my double century attempt a few years ago. Since then I’ve always made a point of passing through it on cycle tours and have been fascinating about the idea of doing a cheeky and very trendy S24H trip there for months now.

After a 6AM start at work, a trough of coffee and a bag of pastries had got me through the day and with an increasingly anxious feeling tummy, I decided that I was post-tired and in the mood to sleep outside. With a surprisingly clear forecast for that night and the following day, I quickly worked out how to attach my Alp-Kit tapered stuff-sack to the #29durr, zip-tied a head torch to my helmet and headed out at around 8PM.

Spinning West through Edinburgh and out to Dalmeny Estate, I spent most of my time adding and removing layers, working out how best to deal with the damp ground and oddly, windless evening.

Arriving at the estate and escaping the glow of street lights, a full fat moon was enough to light my way across open ground. Joining the single-track that runs along the coast, I made quick progress and was soon at North Queensferry and crossing the bridge into Fife itself.

Arriving in Inverkeithing, I joined the Fife Coastal path which was to take me as far as Largo the following day. The Fife Coastal Path is an underrated long distance walking route which takes you from Kincardine at the Eastern end of the Forth Estuary, right along the length of the coast to Newburgh in the North.

The nature of the trail changes constantly along its 117 mile length, from well paved cycle paths to fun, swoopy singletrack that hugs an often precipitous coastline. It’s very well signposted, GPS files are readily available and given its proximity to so many big population centres, I don’t know why it’s not more popular.

The riding between Inverkeithing and Kinghorn, although tame, is very enjoyable and I made sure to say hello to our boat at Aberdour. Things get more interesting between Kinghorn and Kirkaldy and the single-track trail is more like a blue graded mountain bike route than a walking trail, with high skid and wheelie potential around every corner.

That evening, I made it almost as far as Wemyss and eventually crawled into my bivvy bag at around 1 AM, 21 hours after waking!

Setting off the following morning, I enjoyed more varied single-track, made my way through the rather dour Methill as quickly as possible, before heading inland at Largo in the direction of Ceres. 

Arriving in Ceres, I ate a tepid macaroni pie and joined a rather convoluted route of farm and forest tracks which meandered their way across the very pleasant high plateau which makes up the middle of Fife.

A mix of recently defrosted ground and recent farm activity made for some seriously sloppy riding which will have no doubt made short work of my bottom bracket.

After a short hike-a-bike section* on the North-Eastern face of Clatto Hill, I re-joined well paved trails which, as the high-point of my trip, would lead me downhill as far as Thornton.

*If one does not hike-a-bike, is it bikepacking at all? Or have I transgressed into ‘overlanding?’

I had hoped to continue further than this, returning via the coastal path to Aberdour, but commitments latter that day stopped me at this point.

Regardless I had a wonderful little trip which ironed out a lot of questions I had about my bikepacking setup. This also means I have cut out approximately 20% of the needless humming, hawing and faffing I will inevitably endure in planning my next big trip.

The ride has also made worse my desire to explore Fife by bike. Maybe it’s my lust for post-industrial ugliness juxtaposed with bucolic loveliness taking over, but riding in Fife really does have it all for me. Strava links here and here.

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For several years I’ve used MyCountry.cc as a platform to develop my writing, promote my photography and discuss aspects of cycling culture I am interested in.

I’m ready to take the project to the next stage and create a submissions based zine focussing on Scottish adventure cycling. I’m very excited this project and urge you all to have a nosey at the above link. I really want to take this to the next level!  Cheers all,

Jack

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Dura-Ace 7800 with dried flora and feathers, a study in cup and cone elegance. 

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Channeling The Spirit of Grant Petersen

Operating on another plane of bicycle consciousness. Source - Manual Acosta

Grant Petersen visits me in my dreams. In my last dream, Grant and I were sitting in a car park on a sunny day, lazing by our bikes and drinking iced tea. While drinking the tea we talked about badges, axes and shorts.

After a while we decided to go for a ride but I hadn’t finished my tea. Grant said it didn’t matter as he took the tea from my hand and decanted it into a well used Stanley flask. He placed the flask into his basket and we left.

We rode down wide streets in what felt like a Californian suburb and my choice of 35mm Paselas was noted by Grant.

Eventually the road led us to the coast and we stopped to take some photos. Grant then told me that my photography degree was ‘cool’.

The Grizzly’s fork has the silhouette of a unicrown and it thinks about the city. But its lugs are as immovable as its Milanese accent. Thankfully the Griz’ respects its heritage and it wears them with pride.

Richard Sachs probably wouldn’t approve of the lugged/unicrown hybrid ATMO, but Kris Henry might. Both have a mutual appreciation for eachother so who do I trust? I trust the Bianchi.

The Grizzly’s long chainstays tell me to make quality time for myself. Tomorrow I’ll trim my shorts by one inch, curate my fleece collection, take the long cut and worry only about ‘stagrams. Leave the segments till tomorrow.

Its decals are like an old sailor's tattoos, or maybe just an old sailor. Probably not a navy man though. Weathered and beaten, it has been on many adventures. It won’t try to keep up with the new boys, but those north road bars and high-rise stem will make sure you get there comfortably.

The U-brake mount is the Grizzly’s achilles heel, forever at the rear and always on its mind. We all have faults and sometimes we don’t like to admit them, but unlike feelings, U-brakes can be thoroughly flushed and re-packed with fresh grease.

Lead me over well sculpted loam and you will thrive on my mirth, Grizzly. You will never jump babbling brooks, instead you will pause in them and dream of celeste coloured Apennine streams, cleansing your tan-walls and taking you back home