After making a wrong turn to the start, Neil Evans and I found the route and had a laugh about how this was not a good sign. Pumped from the awesome coffee Neil brewed for us that morning at By The Way, at 8:45 am on Sunday May 28th, we both started our ITT together.
I saw the finish seven days, eight hours and fifty six minutes later (7:08:56).
With so much anticipation leading up to the start, hours on the turbo, in the gym, at yoga, fussing over kit, reading forums, we started with a feeling of letting go of everything and focusing on one singular clear objective….getting pizza at Fort Augustus!
The end also came with a sense of relief and accomplishment, which quickly faded into getting set to pack and find my way home. Ran into John from Devon, who saw me in Tyndrum and we had a good debrief. He said that Eric and Jill, also from Canada, heard about me and decided to stick around to offer me company after the ride as they know how important it is to debrief and talk it through. They were all wonderful and great friends to make.
This account is not for racers or gifted athletes who want to break records. This is for individuals who are looking to challenge themselves in an adventure of unknown obstacles and take themselves to a level never visited before. Rather than a step by step account of the route, which you can read from much better writers than me ,(Ian Fitz http://bearbonesbikepacking.co.uk/phpBB3/viewtopic.php?f=10&t=7820 and Phil https://padonbike.wordpress.com/2016/06/07/the-fight-for-the-2016-highland-trail-550/ were particularly eloquent), I’ll share breaking points that will break you or make you want to quit and how I managed to overcome them.
After a failed attempt last year (more on that later), I prepared more and fussed even more on gear. I watched all TV on my turbo, rode to work and back, did weights and yoga, and didn’t party too much. It’s amazing how a guy like Alan, who I hardly know, can inspire me for two years to commit myself to such a level of preparation. He’s a true artist and a gift to our niche community of eccentric athletes.
My first quitting point came at Ben Alder cottage. After enjoying the new section for a few hours (We need a new 70 miles route Alan, OK no problem, boom here it is, Scotland shall provide). Loch Lyon was still and mirror like and looked stunning. I was feeling great up that climb.
LOCH LYON - Perfectly still
When I started the day I saw 2000 calories on a back of chewy sugary stuff and thought why not! The ups and downs of sugar were straining and by the time I got to Ben Alder I was crashing badly. The slog through that muddy pit after Loch Lyon reminded me about what I don’t like doing with a bike.
When I finally arrived at Loch Ericht, it was hot, I could hardly think through the river crossing and I thought if this is how I felt at this point, how will I ever tackle the dreaded sections later on. I laid on the grass, let the cool breeze freshen me up. Ben Alder bothy looked so inviting. I can just stay here overnight, do some riding and go home….why not?
LOCH ERICHT - Ben Alder to the left.
After recovering with some food, I decided to push up the climb that came next around Ben Alder, which was quite extensive. With thoughts of quitting, I decided to stop thinking about the entire route, and focus on the next step, next pedal, next metre, next tiny milestone! Chase another lamb….etc. Kept on doing that until my body came back to me. I also ran into a young mom and two little girls hiking up the other way effortlessly, which slapped me out of my blues. The single track downhill that came after that was very refreshing and brought me back fully…..no more junk sugary stuff!
The road section at Laggan was great to get my engine primed again and the way up to Corraiyairick was not as eventful as last year.
Flahsback: A year ago It was midnight, wind howling, rain was coming down, had all my layers on, tired and hungry, walking on a sheet of ice at the top of the pass. Wondering if I should just lay here or keep going. That’s when my derailleur broke. Thankfully, I could coast to Ft _Augustus, which took another 3 hours. By 3am I was in the campsite, and my ride was over.
Tactical mistake #1: After the pass, another fun downhill, to arrive to Ft Augustus at 10pm. My first tactical mistake was missing dinner in Fort A. This adds twelve hours to the ride as I had to camp overnight and catch breakfast the next day. This also has a cascading effect on when you can reach other essential stop points during the ride so you don’t have to wait around….which I did.
If you want to do a sub six day, you must make the food stop in Fort A., and ride another 20ish miles. On day one.
A massive breakfast at Richmond House, before the canal bridge, who kindly opened the door early for me….porridge and Scottish breakfast with tons of bread and butter. Well fed, the second day was my favourite. Big climb out of Ft Augustus, a push around rocky shores of Loch ma Stac (you call this a trail??) some dams…..flowing trails, many food stops, including Cannich and Contin. There is a stunning stretch, in a valley with lots of trees called Ghlinne Mhoire, which was the first place that reminded me of Canada and the familiarity made things easier. I am sure to come back here one day and camp.
At Cannich, I went off route to the store which was next to a school. The kids gathered around my bike and we had a chat, I asked them if they knew Danny Macaskill, and very surprisingly they didn’t. I told them what he can do, and they gave me a skeptical nod, like ‘yeah, whatever, guy with the funny accent.’ I asked them to check him out on Youtube. Somehow, I feel a few kids that night will be proud to be Scottish after they see Danny’s whiz moves, and maybe one or two will be inspired.
Tactical Mistake #2: I had my GPS resolution at 2 miles, so ended up taking the parallel route out of Cannich on the A831 on the other side of the river Glass and reconnected with the route at Struy. I did go back and forth a few miles as the GPS was acting up, but ended up staying on that road. I am assuming this did not give me any perceived advantage, but I do admit to taking a parallel route where safety was not the reason, just my tired mind. Reflecting back, about my motivations, I feel good about the whole thing regardless. I never did this to get my name up on anything particular. I did it for myself and in my mind, I overcame the challenge I tackled.
Tactical Mistake #3: I did not reset my GPS for the first night, so at 151 miles on the second day, it just crapped out. I reset it and started again, but lost a few miles from its memory. Save and reset every night your Garmin 800, and start tracking a new activity the next morning and you’ll be fine.
The day went by well, with another stop in Contin and then off to Oykel Bridge. Ran into Mark from Colorado who was setting up his Bivvy at 11:30 pm. We had a quick chat and he said that the hotel was open a few minutes ago but was not sure if anyone was still there. He warned me to look left at the bridge or I’ll miss it. So I wished him a safe ride, and motored down the road. I could NOT miss another dinner. I was desperate.
Approaching the bridge, I saw lights, lots of them! As I came around the corner past the entrance, there were people in there, some clean looking and some beat up, sundried and dirty. I looked through the window, and Lynn made a waving arm signal to come in. The welcome I received by Lynn and Shawn was overwhelming. It was 11:50 pm and they stayed open till 1 am for me to eat. I joined Scott from Scotland and and RJ from Vancouver and we demolished an unbelievable amount of food. I went chicken curry rice and a half pint of beer to join the festive atmosphere. I heard a lot about the Oykel Bridge Hotel staff, but words can’t describe their generous hospitality until you experience it first hand. I will also be sure to bring my father in law here soon to fish for Salmon.
OYKEL BRIDGE - Refuge! On my second visit back down.
RJ said the northern loop was a slog and he did not believe how they got through that last section in the dark. That night I slept like a baby, feeling good about my full stomach and having covered over 200 miles in two days….is it that easy? I’ll be done in no time...haha.
Emotional Outbreak #1: Day three started well and within a few minutes of leaving Oykel Bridge, I thought about my oldest daughter turning sixteen and started crying. It was pure emotional outlet, my tears were gushing and I could not stop it for a while. I called home, and let her know that given this outburst, that I can guarantee her to be very embarrassing at her wedding speech, if she one day chooses a traditional lifestyle.
These were my first ‘tears of joy’ I ever experienced. It was an unexpected thing, but in many ways, the HT550 is much more than a ride, it is a transformational experience that will grind you down to your basic being, raw and unfiltered…...free to be what you are meant to be! Your strengths and shortcomings authentically out in full display for your eyes to see.
After Rosehall, there is a 20 kms steady climb around Ben More Assynt, rewarded by the fastest downhill of the my trip, towards the stunning Loch Shin. Just let go of the breaks and lean into the bends. I am getting a motorbike this summer, and this downhill confirmed it will be a good decision.
After cruising down the A838 for a few miles, the first big climb of the day comes and it’s rideable, going around and to the left of Ben Hee. At the top of that climb, Zane, also from Colorado, caught up with me. Super nice guy and we ended up spending the next few hours together which was great, because it gets very isolated, with lots of pushing in cloudy and foggy conditions. Lots of pushing down the Glenn Golly River, and up and down then up again across the An Dubh Loch, which is a very mystic place, surrounded by mountains and waterfalls, a place where life could have began. Glad I had Zane there to keep it real, as you can easily lose yourself in that isolated valley.
AN DUBH LOCH - Mystic and isolated.
After the climb out of An Dubh Loch, a long push up steep zig zag tracks going around Meal Horn, there is a superb long downhill section with a reasonable gradient, emerging around Ben Arkel and was rewarded with the most magnificent view EVER!
I caught myself saying ‘Thank You’ repeatedly when I saw this view
After some fun single track down a pine forest and then to the valley towards Lake Kylesku, I stopped and looked back at where I descended from, and I saw Ben Arkel in it’s granite glory.
I stopped at Kylesku Hotel, and stood out immediately among the very clean crowd. I was so tired that I confused the hell out of the staff about what I wanted to eat there and what I wanted to take with me. I ended up with a hamburger and two venison burgers to take, which I ate half of that on the spot, wondering if it’s too much. I head out intending to reach Lochinver, and ran into Zane, for the last time. His tent was up and he was going to stay the night. I kept on going thinking about a paved straight road and how I can hammer it.
Well, the next section was undulating hills like I never rode before, accompanied by the worst acid reflux I’ve ever experienced from eating so much grease. My stomach was hating me that night and most of next morning.
The pain was eased by the rewarding views of the sea at sundown. The smell, wind and energy of the waves re-affirmed my intent to finish off my days on this planet by the sea, and try and get there as soon as possible. At midnight, I set up camp by the road near a beach before Lochinver.
WEST COAST - camp for the night.
In Lochinver went to the cafe and could only eat toast, butter and jam. Then went off to meet the Canisp hike, which took about four hours of pushing. The walking munros were out in full force as it was a brilliant sunny day. All intending to climb the beautiful three peaked Suilvan, and offered some time killing conversations that helped me get through the unrideable trails.
CANISP TRAIL - not loving it.
After the hike down the shores of loch na Gainnimh, I sat down and looked back at the Suilvan in all it’s glory
SUILVAN - and three sisters I think!
The road section revived me, as I love spinning! I’m a cyclist, OK! By day four, I felt like the HT550 is a hiking challenge disguised as a bike ride, where the bike was merely a device / mule to get you expediently between one painful hike section and another.
I stopped at a road side Inn on A837 by Loch Borralan for some mars bars and coke. The lovely lady at the Inn asked if I’m with the 550. She said Jenny was in earlier and was 17 hours ahead of her past time, which was great news to hear. She also told me how lucky I was. Last year about eight riders knocked on her door at midnight, cold and wet, begging for shelter. In comparison, I was topping up my sunscreen.
At this moment, I thought what an achievement it was for guys like Tom Rowntree to finish first last year in such horrible conditions. At the start in 2015 he looked at me, wasn’t sure if he was smiling or just had the facial intensity of someone intending to go first. I regret not saying hi and wishing him a safe ride, it’s a bad habit I picked up living in London.
I made Oykel Bridge at 4pm, ate two sandwiches and took two for later. Carried on a nice ride to Ullapool that ended with a fun descent and views. I explored a bit, found Tesco at 10:01 pm, so missed them by a minute. Checked out the camp site, which was too inviting, so I decided to call it a day. That night I studied my paper maps intensely. Not sure why, but it really paid off the next day.
Ran into Neil at Tesco in the morning. He had a big tear in his tyre sidewall, to which I offered him one of my tyre boots, but committed to the ride rules, he politely declined. So I rode down the road towards the first big push climb of the day on the Coffin trail, thinking I am going to make some major progress today now that the bike pushing was behind me. At the top of this ridiculous uphill, Neil caught up after he had just seen Zane in Ullapool, and fresh from the outdoor store where he used 10kg of fishing line to sew his tire together….what an ingenious solution! I moaned a bit about the past two days of hike a bike, to which he chuckled and warned me of Fisherfields as he went past me.
TOP OF CLIMB AFTER ULLAPOOL - last signs of mankind for 12 hours.
For the next 12 hours I pushed!
I came by the first Bothy I saw so far, the Shenavall. This would be a good overnight stop before tackling Fisherfields to break the pushing into two parts. I went past it, and crossed the river at Loch ma Stac, which was uneventful this year and far from dangerous as in past years. Except that the minute I crossed, some angry clouds had descended over Ben Thuil, and it started pouring while I scrambled my waterproofs on.
Fisherfields broke me. At this point, I had misjudged the challenge ahead and my nutrition. The place is stunning, and remote. Ran into a hiker and a family camped in the Glenn. All super experienced and quite astonished seeing me on a bike…..well, not on it, just pushing. They gave me some advice and wished me the best. What came after was pure mind over matter. After the big push towards Loch Beinn Deargh, I sat at the top and looked back at the Glenn behind me. I did not take photos this time, just looked at it, and realized this is becoming personal. This is when my challenge really started and I had to hustle. I stopped taking photos after this point.
LAST PHOTO AFTER RIVER CROSSING - LOCH MA STAC
The descent on the other side was spectacular, lakes, waterfalls, only dinosaurs were missing from this epic scene….although I felt like one by this point….ancient and out of place. Anyone who rides down this next gravely steep section is either gifted or crazy. I walked / slid.
More pushing, more uphill out the next climb, down a valley and onto what is lovingly known as the postman’s path. How inviting the name sounds, but what a long long way it is. By this point, gps ran out from pushing so my dynamo was not helping. Recharging unit was also out, lights were mostly out. So I pushed in the hazy glow of the night, relying on the paper maps which I studied the night before.
Tactical Point #2: Having the maps and visualizing the big picture around you is a great way to ‘feel’ the mission. Following that dot on a tiny screen is draining, and I found a renewed sense of control with the paper maps, which I kept on my front bag for the rest of the ride.
Posty path was just ridiculous, tiny single track with a very steep drop to the right, and very little foot space on the steep left.….and those fallen trees on the waterfall made things very interesting. All I could think was how did the tandem riders cross?? It just kept on going and going. I learned to love seeing the tire marks in the mud, as at points they were my only guide, and only attachment to the rest of the riders and mankind.
After reaching the end of Loch Maree, and past the river crossing, I came onto the highway, and put up my tent to sleep. Next morning a couple of older hikers let me know there is a nice campsite just in front of me. But the dirtbag that I have become, road side is my home now.
Whistle Stop was all I can think about, as I did not eat enough the day before, on a sixteen hour effort. I was an hour early, so used my time to recharge my gps and fix a few things on my bike. Massive breakfast and faffing, was on the road by 10 am. This is the cascading effect I am talking about when you miss dinner at Ft A.
Torridons were nice, steady climb after you leave the A896 out of Kinlochewe. And a very technical downhill worthy of a full suss and fresh legs. My rigid bike, tired legs and thinning brake pads decided to walk down. Nice scenic road ride to Strathcarron, where I stopped at the Hotel Inn for chips, mars bars, coke and recharge of batteries. Met the locals, and had a good laugh.
Onto to Dornie, where I had dinner at the hotel. I met a German couple at the cue, and as my wife is German, they invited me to join them. At this point I had given up on a sub six day finish, so I accepted their offer. We exchanged addresses, as I will be in Germany in September near their town of Baden Baden, and will stop to see them again.
Big road climb out of Dornie, with amazing scenery towards Glenn Affric. As I was riding up the Glenn, the wind was howling in my face and I could see low clouds covering the summits and looking angry.
Anxiety attack #1: I was so drained, so tired, so attached the comforts of a nice dinner with a nice German couple, why am I doing this? The Corrieyairack pass last year was insane and I couldn’t face that again overnight.
I rode up the Glenn to what I thought was a bothy to stay overnight, but it was locked. Disappointed, I saw a couple of hikers starting the ascent, so I caught up with them and they saw the bike so did not pay too much attention to me. But as I kept up with them, their curiosity led to a conversation, and they offered me a certain level of respect after I told them what I’ve hiked through the past few days. They were very experienced and taught me a few things, like always go high and windy to camp, weather is fine, just windy and there is nothing to worry about. I calmed down and keeping up with them resulted in my best uphill push pace I had all week.
We split at the top where they decided to camp in super windy conditions, and advised me to ride to the youth hostel on the other side of the Glenn. At 11:30 pm I was by Caban Bothy. I peeked in and the fresh smell of burnt wood was too inviting, whilst the howling wind outside was not. I decided to stay and was welcomed by one of the sleeping hikers who invited me to lay down wherever I felt like. Very quietly I slept.
5am up and fresh, and excited to have overcome the climb, I set off hoping to make as much ground as I can today to change my train reservation which i was going to miss. I passed the stunning Glenn Affric, and back up Balclaidaich Rd, which is a very long and steady climb, then long downhill to river Morriston, onto another climb, and down towards Ft A., which was heaving with tourists. I was overwhelmed and shocked a bit by all the people, but managed to get some food and head down the Great Glenn with my GPS off. I decided next year I’ll bring my family to boat cruise up and down the Great Gelnn for a week.
At bridge of Oich, I turned my gps on, got confused, and went up the A82 for about eight miles. I realized my error, and turned back to the bridge of Oich. Normally I’d be very angry with myself for going off route by half a mile. But in the grand scheme of things, I wasn’t fussed at all, they were paved road miles after all, not Fisherfields miles.
I was feeling great today, spinning very well, untill Ft. Billy, where I went to the train station to change my reservations.
Quitting point #2: I don’t know what happened, but I found myself confused trying to keep up with train times and dates, and found myself asking the agent to put me on the next train back. Ft W. with all the traffic, people and pollution, made my normal life crash back in, my work on Monday, my kids’ activities, my wife’s race the next day. I am letting them all down now because I am selfishly taking more time than planned to get back to London. Getting to Ft W, is an achievement in itself…..what am I proving? Just looking at the profile of the next two climbs on my GPS drained the will out of me. I called home, was in pieces, and Julia told me to forget about everything, focus on why I am up there for, and remember how disappointed I was last year scratching. She said I must finish now.
So at McDonald’s, I pulled myself together with a feast, looked at my paper maps, and put a plan together. Rode up as far as I can past Ben Nevis, and camped on the West highland way for the night.
Starting Early, I was drained and burnt out. I pushed my way past the Devil’s staircase and the last climb past the ski hill. And two miles before Tyndrum, yes, out of saddle again to push some more. Alan could have easily just let us cruise down the highway for a fast finish….but no, one last reminder about pushing a bike, which I obliged for the last time.
At 5:41pm, I crossed the start point bringing with me something that no one can take away and that will always be there, the sense of accomplishment and overcoming the biggest physical challenge of my life. I’d say the magnitude of the Fisherfields day alone, was bigger than any 24 hour race, or podium finish effort I’ve experienced in the past.
John saw me and came across the street to congratulate me for finishing. We debriefed and had a few laughs and exchanged ideas and advice for the next time. Really! next time?? He said that Eric and Jill will be looking out for me. I spent the evening with them, and we debriefed some more. They were amazing and I cherished every minute I spent with them.
Thank you Alan G. Thank you Scotland, you beautiful beast.
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