Highland Bike Extravaganza

Despite various aches and pains I'm delighted that I have finally managed to pull off an epic bike ride I have wanted to do for years. The big Perthshire round of Perth - Loch Tay - Loch Earn - Perth has been tantalisingly out of reach for a long time, but yesterday I completed it.

The first 25 or so miles were fun, as I was in the company of a fellow rider - one of my neighbours, who was on his own epic run from Perth to Inverness (no less!). We got off to a later than planned start, because his daughter who was off Munro-bagging for the day nicked his lunch and water bottles! Nevertheless we hit the cycle path north from Perth by 8AM.

The route follows the River Tay, before curving westwards along the River Almond, then following minor roads through little villages such as Pitcairngreen, before picking up the old A9, all the way into Dunkeld. From Dunkeld, we legged it up the old cycle route up the East side of the Tay, which is fast - despite being a little close to the A9 at times. At Ballinluig we went West, and round to Grandtully, where he went North on the Pitlochry route, and I pressed westwards towards Aberfeldy.

Grandtully to Kenmore, at the head of Loch Tay, is a fantastic run - albeit into a constant Southwesterly wind. Most people who have been to these parts know the fast A-road that skirts the south banks of the River Tay. The cycle route follows tiny unclassified back-roads on the north side of the river, through Dull, Weem and bypassing Aberfeldy, before dropping into the back of Kenmore. At Kenmore I enjoyed a rest, a feed and refilled my water bottles, before pressing on, over the old bridge, through the village square past the hotel - and round to the South Lock Tay Road.

Kenmore to Killin is perhaps the most scenic bike ride I have ever done - it is simply exhilarating despite battling the ongoing southwesterly wind. Truth be told, I didn't mind the headwind at this point, because it meant that the last leg of my long day would be wind-assisted when I turned for home! As the road heads away from Kenmore, and climbs above the dark waters of the loch, the views across to the 'Lawers Group' of Munros are really memorable. As I've climbed all of these and know them quite well, I could chart my progress along the loch in relation to the peaks opposite. Meall Greigh and Meall Garbh are the least distinct - but the sharp tooth of An Stuc (where I was once lashed with hailstones that felt as if they would take the skin from my face!) is as unmistakable as the high point of Ben Lawers itself. Meall nan Tarmachan, is next, with its pointy peak and charming ridge, before the hills at Killin.

Many years ago STV decided to re-run old episodes of Weir's Way in the wee small hours of the night. I loved sitting up watching these, and have visited so many of the places that Tom Weir explored. One of the first shows I saw was about Loch Tay, and he called in with the old Horn Carver who worked on the North side of the loch. Long gone now, he was still there carving when I first followed Tom Weir's advice and explored the Loch Tay hills. Cycling through them, again was both stunning and nostalgic!

At Killin, the Falls of Dochart had drawn a huge crowd - people were all over it. We're not long into the easing of Covid-19 lockdown, and a sunny weekend meant that the cities had emptied into the Highlands. A small amount of main road work is required before the cycle path to Lochearn head turns off the A827 and onto the old railway line. The trackbed isn't too bad for cycling on, and climbs steadily up a couple of hundred metres of ascent, before the blue National Cycle Route Signs (which had been my company all day), turned me left into the forest. I have to say I was really disappointed here as there was no indication that the track would only be suitable for mountain bikes. I managed to get up the tortuous woodland path to the head of Glen Ogle, but really should have been on the road - this "cycle route" was really an MTB trail, and should have been marked as such.

When I met the road at the top of Glen Ogle, I decided not to follow the old railway line down the other side to Lochearnhead, I had had more than enough of sub-standard surfaces by that point - and elected to use the A-road to descend. And what an amazing descent that is! The road plunges down the mountains, with the old railway viaducts to the right and the mighty bulk of Ben Vorlich ahead - it has to be one of the most wonderful downhill runs in this part of Scotland. Driving Glen Ogle is not bad, but it pales into insignificance with the thrill of cycling it. Cycling through a landscape doesn't just make you feel connected to it (every foot of ascent has been hard earned!), but allows you to observe it, to hear it, and smell it in a way that the car does not. All too soon, I was zooming through Lochearnhead, with oodles of momentum, and turning left onto the south Loch Earn road.

As I nudged my heavy, elderly, comfortable - and much loved F.W. Evans Tourer de Luxe, round the corner into the easterly run home, I could feel the wind at my back for the first time in the day - and clicked up a couple of gears. I flew along to Ardvorlich where I got snarled up in an incredible deluge of cars, people, walkers, campers, fishermen, campervans, all vying for lochside parking. Progress was repeatedly impeded by the volume of traffic, the insane parking, and the difficulties of negotiating passing places. I was also very sad to see the amount of litter, damage to the shoreline and mess left all along this beauty spot - which is supposed to be in the Loch Lomond National Park controlled camping zone..... hmmm. It doesn't seem to be working.

St Fillans to Comrie is a lovely fast, flat run, and I opted to duck away from the A-85, and use the backroad as much as possible, which I did again from Comrie to Crieff. The Crieff to Perth run, via the Gloagburn Farm road is a fast, undulating road, on which I toiled. 100miles is the longest ride I have done in many years, and by this stage everything was starting to hurt - not least my right ankle which I sprained badly last year, Running into the back of Perth through 'Noah's' and the western edge - I was home by 4-ish.

My neighbour, who was doing a far longer run than me, was by that stage heroically battling Slochd summit - before his triumphant run into Inverness.

For me, it was the fulfilment of three long-standing ambitions. I had wanted to do this big-round of Perthshire lochs, mountains and rivers. Secondly I had wanted to see if I could do a 100miler again. Thirdly I managed to complete my 1000Km cycle challenge that I was doing for the International Justice Mission. A truly memorable day!

 

Staycation staycation staycation

Castle Stalker, Appin

Appin

 Jubilee Bridge, Appin

 The Jacobite, hauled by a a 'Black 5', heads west..

 Oban

Craignure, Mull

Balamory/Tobermory

Tobermory/Balamory

Calgary Bay, Mull

Calgary Bay, Mull

Calgary Bay, Mull

Calgary Bay, Mull

Iona

Iconic

Glencoe

The Clachaig Inn, Glencoe

Appin gloaming

Sgor na h-Ulaidh

The Spring of 2020 will always be remembered as the time when the world 'locked-down' to restrict the spread of the Covid-19 virus. This week however, the powers-that-be have relaxed the lock-down regulations a notch - allowing us to travel to the hills for the first time in months. So, Andy & I headed for Glencoe and attacked Sgor na h-Ulaidh, a hidden Munro, south of Glencoe village.

There is a tiny carpark just before the main road swings to the right (going NW), and just before a bridge. We left the car there, and crossed the bridge on the main road, before taking the track marked 'Glencoe Cottages". The main road is particularly unpleasant and dangerous at this point...

The track reaches some houses, behind locked gates - but there is a bypass track which avoids these on the left hand side. The sign pointing to this is currently broken, but if you keep your eyes peeled you'll see it..

The track continues after the houses, far up into the Glen. Once high up in the glen, we turned left and got stuck into a steep, hard climb of 550m+ from glen-floor to ridge. Once on the ridge it was a straightforward and rather wonderful ridge walk over one top and on to the summit. We sat for ages on the top, as the view there from Ben Nevis, The Mamores, Glencoe, Glen Etive and out to Mull and the islands was vast and wonderful.

The descent to the coll between Sgor na h-Ulaidh and meal Lighiche was very hard going in places, and required some concentration to find a route between impossible crags.In retrospect we took too steep a route (following a path) and would have been better to have gone further west and made an easier descent.

The descent from the col between Sgor na h-Ulaidh and the adjacent Corbett is obvious and a track soon emerges alongside the river. Once here, it was fairly straightforward run out back to the car. Although in one sense it was an uneventful walk - I will remember it for years, as the 'back from lockdown' Munro, in great weather, with simply breathtaking views.

Redeeming an Unmentionable Word

Rugby League player Dave Hadfield recounts that he was once transferred between clubs during the half-time interval, wearing shirts of both Oulton Rangers and Hemel Stags in one match. How his erstwhile team-mates treated him on the pitch after his radical switch of loyalties he does not record! Changes of loyalty, purpose and identity always provoke a reaction, not just in sport.Essential to the Christian view of the spiritual life is just such a transition. The problem is that the word once routinely used to describe it has fallen into disrepute.  The dodgy word, is of course, “repent”! Formerly considered to be the standard stuff of the spiritual life, it has become the domain of swivel-eyed loons yelling at people in shopping centres.

The comic-actor Tamsin Greig performed a hilarious impromptu routine on the Graham Norton Show in which she talked about her atheist neighbour who dog-sits for her. The story goes that she gives her new dog a mad-name which her neighbour will be required to yell in the park in order to call it back to heel. The name of the new dog? Of course, it was “Repent!”

One of the issues is that the word is routinely misunderstood. Many people remember the monks in Monty Python and The Holy Grail beating themselves with wooden planks. Indeed, during the Great Plagues in England, there were flaggelists who did just that.

Believing that the Black Death was an outpouring of the wrath of God, they sought to punish themselves in order to deflect this wrath from the populace. But this is a misunderstanding of what Jesus meant when he called people to “repent”.

What do Christians mean when they talk about “repentance”? When Dave Hadfield swapped rugby teams he first changed shirts – he publicly identified with the new team. More important, though, was the understanding that he would completely change his direction of play.

There is nothing self-flagellating about this transfer. After all, the Bible is insistent that entry to the Christian faith is entirely founded upon the grace of God and doesn’t require either self-denigrating acts of flagellation any more than self-enhancing acts of charity.

In fact, the picture is that the passion of Christ has completed any necessary flagellation for the whole of humanity.

Nevertheless, this free transfer has immediate and life-changing implications. That is, nothing less than a complete change in our goals, aims and direction of play. This essentially involves heartfelt changes in patterns of behaviour.

In the West today these typically involve a change to the way we relate to the big beasts of the human psyche, (money, sex and power): how we regard possessions, ourselves and others.

Christians make no claim to being “good people”; rather, they are people who need forgiveness. In our sporting metaphor, we still make errors on the pitch, score dreadful own-goals, and give away penalties.

However, pursuing those things is no longer part of our identity, our purpose, or intention; rather we are deeply committed to a new direction of play.

Properly understood, repentance is both required and life-giving. It is required because Jesus demands it. In fact, the very first words the New Testament records Jesus as preaching are “Repent for the Kingdom of God is near”.

Attempts to remove the notion of repentance from Christianity have been common throughout history. Some have thought that repentance is an affront to the idea that God saves us by his grace, not our efforts.

This is fraught with problems, not least that this free grace changes us radically. Some have tried to merely add a religious veneer to their lives; but something deeper is required.

Faith in Jesus Christ is one side of the coin. The other is repentance, which means embracing this new identity, owning a new loyalty and heading back out onto the pitch, in new colours, ready to begin to play for a different team.

Repentance is the moment at which the love, grace, joy and transforming power of God flows into a person; and the business of making them more Christlike begins. Repentance is not some self-flagellating ritual nor an optional-extra; it is the departure lounge for eternal life.

Don’t expect your former team-mates to welcome your change of loyalty, though. It can be rough out on the pitch.

--
This article first appeared in The Scotsman: here.

Perth Sunset

Barnhill

 Midgies up!

Craig Gibbon

I'd heard there was a curious obelisk on the little Perthshire hill of Craig Gibbon, just above the village of Bankfoot - but never found it before. The A9 dualling works north of Perth seem to go on forever, and the slow speed limit interminable. In the middle of those roadworks looking North, there is  range of low gentle hills off to the left. Next to Dunkeld there is Birnam Hill, adjacent to that is Obney Hill. The next hill to the west is Craig Gibbon, separated from Obney by the deep (and rather lovely) Glen Garr. We climbed Obney via Glen Garr last year, and ended up wading through chest-high bracken and thorns before making the lovely summit; opting for the easier route back, direct from the ridge to Balhomish Farm.

For finding Craig Gibbon, I started at the well-used car park at Little Glenshee, by the ford in Sochie Burn. A huge stile crosses the deer-fencing and follows a bulldozed track into the hills, immediately North of the car park. It soon splits into two, the left fork veering steeply into the hillside, while I took the right on past the pretty Tullybelton Loch.

The path meanders on past two lovely ponds, nestling in unlikely positions in the hills - before coming to a T-junction. Here a small walkers signpost points to the right, directing people towards 'Bankfoot'. I turned left, up the hill, alongside a line of ancient trees. The track climbs for a mile or so, trending westwards before meeting another track up on the ridge.

Turning right, I followed this track for a mile or so, along the top towards Craig Gibbon. The obelisk itself is hidden amongst a cluster of trees, on a small hillock to the right of the track. There is a little path that drops down to it, and up through the trees to the obelisk itself. As Corona virus starts to bite into the country, thousands of people are being forced to self-isolate. I didn't need to - although there was air-traffic above me; down at ground level, I didn't see a soul! Deer, small birds singing, and huge birds hunting, were my company all day.

To return to Little Glen Shee, I continued along with high-level track, over Moine Folaich, which doesn't have the quirky little features of the low-level route in; but does provide wonderful expansive views of the surrounding hills, over the massive windfarm at Aberfeldy and onto to snow-capped Schiehallion. Then southwards, way beyond Perth and down to the paps of Fife.

It's not a huge walk - certainly not a high level one; but it was exhilarating to be outdoors, with boots on; in wide-open spaces clear-skies and an icy wind. Marvellous!

The Inspiration Orchestra

I first became aware of The Inspiration Orchestra through its founder, Ian White. Ian has been a well-known musician, especially in churches for decades; but I really got to know him through what was known as "Mr White's Guitar Club", at the local primary school. There, one lunchtime a week, my older son, gained a love of guitar-playing which he has to this day. He now plays Hendrix songs on a white Fender Strat (!), but it started picking single note melodies on a battered acoustic in the school hall.

I went one night to see Ian's new project, "The Inspiration Orchestra", playing in a church in central Perth. The Orchestra is entirely made up of people with disabilities, who have music lessons with Ian, and who he brings together for concerts. The players are drawn from across the generations, and come with a variety of different skills and instruments. The concert was wonderful, joyous, heart-warming (sometimes, slightly chaotic, as carers worked hard with musicians to get everything ready for each song), and yes, inspiring. I left a cheery, encouraging note on their Facebook page, and thought nothing more of it.

Then, I was made to think.

I was self-employed at that time, and had just taken on some work doing some publicity, media etc for the Christian philosopher and ethicist Andy Bannister, at Solas. Around that time, he conducted a debate with the atheist, utilitarian philosopher Peter Singer, for Justin Brierley's "Unbelievable?" radio programme. (Incidentally, in this age of censorship, and people seeking to "no-platform" people they disagree with, I love the way that every week, Justin puts people he totally disagrees with on the radio, gives them a platform - and engages with their ideas!) . The Bannister-Singer debate was wide ranging and detailed - but something struck me most profoundly. Singer seemed to be arguing that the value of a human life is somehow proportionate to their abilities, their capacity for decision making, and what they can contribute to the workforce. In comparison, Bannister pressed the case that humans, made in God's image have an intrinsic worth - which is not dependent on their skills, or capacities; but is bestowed by their maker. As such, the most vulnerable should be treasured as much as the powerful, rich and celebrities of our age.

It was a total clash of world-views. If Singer was right, then the weak are holding us back, if Bannister is right- then the mark of true humanity is to care for and value the weakest. I was overwhelmingly convinced that Bannister was right, and that Singer's was a path not merely towards his (notorious) advocacy of infanticide, but on towards a tyranny in which the powerful can determine the value of life.

The question for me then, was what to do with that conviction.

For a while, our family had been supporters of Water Aid, the International Justice Mission and Christians Against Poverty - chipping a few quid every month towards these inherently good things, directed towards the poorest. However, it didn't seem enough, in the light of what I was convinced of in the Bannister-Singer debate.

Then Ian White e-mailed, asking me if I would be willing to help him out with The Inspiration Orchestra! I'm not a musician, and so there's nothing I can do on the music side of things. However, there is a small committee behind the scenes that keeps things running, and I joined it and help with some of the publicity. At one of the last concerts, I was asked to tell people a little about the Orchestra. the words I used were "celebrating value and unlocking talent". Ian works tirelessly with all the musicians, modifying instruments for their particular abilities, teaching, practicing and encouraging. He does this because it is a labour of love, which seems to me to be the perfect outworking of a world-view in which every individual is uniquely valued, and precious, a conviction grounded in the belief that they are made in God's image. The Inspiration Orchestra celebrates the value of every musician and unlocks their talent. That's why the concerts are so utterly joyous. Chatting to some of the musicians after concerts, and in the Orchestra's charity shop in Perth (Shop at 91), has been wonderful. Seeing the way in which music brings so much joy to their lives too, has been tremendous.

Sadly, all concerts are postponed at the moment, because of the Corona virus outbreak. However, they are expected to resume later in the year. Details are on the website, and Facebook.

The Inspiration Orchestra
Shop at 91

Kinnoull Hill & The River Tay

Speyside Way

On the Strathspey Railway

Book Notes: The Best of A.A. Gill

The back cover of this anthology of the late journalist's columns reads that it is: "by turns controversial, uplifting, unflinching, sad, funny and furious". It is also ranges through being deeply sad, beautifully observed, and written; vulgar, offensive, nasty and brilliant. That's quite a stack of adjectives for one writer!

The book begins with a series of articles from Gill's celebrated food column. There are some terrific bits in here, such as his wonderfully evocative description of life in a busy high-end London restaurant kitchen; his hilarious diatribe against vegetarianism, and his written skewering of certain over-priced, over estimated and under-performing restaurants. This section of the book is rather good fun.

The best section of the book by a country mile is his travel writing which forms its second section. Gill's descriptions, especially of Africa are so moving, vivid and brilliantly observed (both in terms of what he sees, and his own responses to what he sees). His poise, sight and ability to respond to Africa in the most brilliantly chosen words - is at times breathtaking. Quite remarkable. It is in fact the section of the book I will return to again.

The TV section which follows, sees Gill appreciating the good and excoriating the dreadful in popular culture (just as a clue, Alan Bennett = good. Peppa Pig = bad). While the final section entitles "Life" is an odd collection of unlined pieces on things as diverse as Fatherhood, Death, Dyslexia, Pornography, Glastonbury and ageing. On Fatherhood, Gill is quite brilliant, on Glastonbury utterly depressing and on pornography so crude that I honestly couldn't read it - it was actually really unpleasant. 

I picked this book up almost by accident, in search of well-crafted, powerful (even beautiful) prose. Despite the inclusion of a couple of pretty grim articles, the book as a whole didn't disappoint. The writing about Africa in particular was so vivid and compelling, that the reader call almost smell the place. These travel pieces were worth the price of the book alone.

Sgurr nan Coireachan, Garbh Chioch Mhor and Sgurr na Ciche

There are some days in the hills which are just a cut above the rest, and this was undoubtedly one of those... three magnificent Munros, in the heart of the wild west coast, bathed in glorious sunshine, clocking up my 250th Munro, and chatting to really interesting folks that I met along the way.

The drive to the access point in Glen Dessarry is exceptionally beautiful, but extremely long. As soon as the main road is left just after Spean Bridge, progress is unbelievably slow. It's only 23miles from the Post Office at Spean Bridge to the road-end at Loch Arkaig, but it takes well over an hour. It begins winding its way around the Caledonian Canal, and Loch Lochy, before doubling back to run alongside the length of Loch Arkaig. The lochside road is slow, but wonderful. As I drove in on Friday night, the deep forests smelled damp, the loch glistened in the sun, and in the far distance the great western mountains with Tolkeinesque names such as Sgurr Thuilm, beckoned me on from the horizon.

I managed to find a camping spot just short of the road-end car park, and after a chat with a fellow walker camped nearby, managed to have a brew, and settle into my tent for the night. I've done a lot of walking in groups, and with my family; but I've also gone to the hills alone a lot. About half the Munros I've done, have been solitary climbs, and the same is true in terms of days spent exploring glens, waterfalls or coastal paths. Sometimes these have been rewarding because they have provided wonderful experiences of pure isolation; while on many other occasions I have fallen in step with fellow-walkers. I'd be lying if I said I had never met a rude on unpleasant hill walker; but my experience on the whole has been that the people I meet in wild and remote places are consistently amongst the most thoughtful and engaging folk I've met. Saturday turned out to be a great case of the latter, the guy pitching his tent just along from mine, was heading up the same hills as me, so we teamed up for the day. 

Up at first light, I packed up my tent, and cleared my little roadside campsite, and brewed big pot of coffee as the sun arrived on Loch Arkaig. Not long after that we tramped down to the road end, past the gate and soon forked right towards Glen Dessarry Lodge. The glen bifurcates beyond the hamlet of Strachan, Glen Pean to the left, and Dessarry to the right. Glen Dessarry has paths up each side of it, and we elected to stay on the North side, above the tree line - in order to be able to see where to turn uphill. Our fear was that the lower track (although apparently in better condition), was so concealed in the woods that seeing where to turn into the hill would be impossible.

The track, after it passes the few building in the glen, disintegrates into a muddy footpath. It has been dry recently, and yet the ground here held a lot of moisture. After heavy rain I wouldn't fancy it at all! There are two large forests in the glen, and about halfway along the North side of the second of these, the forest line extends Northwards at the line of a stream called the Allt Coire nan Uth. The burn was easily forded and very shortly afterwards a tiny cairn indicated the start of the ascent of our first hill of the day - Sgurr nan Coireachan. Knowing that a long, hot day was forecast as we walked over rocky, streamless ridges, I was carrying a lot of water; which felt unbearably heavy as we slogged our way up the path. 800m of relentless ascent were made easier by the rapidly expanding views. and the excellent banter of my walking companion for the day. I think by this stage we were on to history!

The path becomes rocky in its upper reaches, dives around a false summit and pulls up to the Munro proper - a magnificent airy viewpoint. Ben Nevis was obvious to the SE, while the Glen Finnan hills filled the foreground in front of us. The ridge, winding its way westwards looked daunting and thrilling too, culminating in the great summit of Sgurr na Ciche. This is the wild heart of the "Rough Bounds of Knoydart". It was also here that we picked up the remains of the dry stone wall that runs along the ridge, marked on the 1:25000 map as a thin black line. It was obviously a large wall once, but its' remains kept us company across a couple of miles of dramatic, twisting ridge walking.

The path off the first Munro was steep, but obvious and led easily onto the climb up the second. This turned out to be a real slog! First the intermediate top of Garbh Chioch Bheag has to made, a gruelling almost 250m pull up the ridge. After some height is lost, a further 100+ metre ascent it required before the Munro is gained. This was 250th Munro, Garbh Chioch Mhor, and it certainly put up a fight! The views, now also in Knoydart were just breathtaking.

Garbh Choich Mhor and Sgurr na Ciche are less than a kilometre apart - yet are separated by a 250 metre-deep cleft, which has to be climbed down, and then up. As we left the old dry-stone wall which does not go to the summit, we dropped our rucksacks and went up to the peak and back. The views here were just astonishing! A few years ago, I had stood with my younger son on Meall Bhuide on Knoydart, looked at Sgurr na Ciche's sleek beautiful lines and longed to climb it. I've stood with people on Ben Nevis who have said "What's that really pointy-one over there?", and gazed on it from Torridon's great peaks to the North - where a whole load of my friends were climbing that day. At last on Saturday I managed to climb it, something I had longed to do for years! It surpassed all my expectations. We stayed there, chatting to several small groups of passing walkers, for as long as time would allow; but aware of the declining length of autumn ways, and the long walk out, reluctantly trudged back to our rucksacks hidden in the bealach.

The descent back into Glendessarry is via a steep, rocky and sometimes unpathed gully, which plunges almost 350metres southwesterly from the bealach which separates the two hills. As the gully ends, the path obviously bears left and then descends to the head of the glen. 

The walk back out is long and arduous. we took the other path back along the glen which at first it was pretty boggy; and ran through the two woods, rounding the back of the A'Chuil bothy, and back to the car - and more importantly some hug bottles of  water!

At the end of one of the best day's hillwalking I have ever done, I bade my new friend farewell, and began the mammoth drive home. As I approached Spean Bridge, I realised that I must have had no phone reception over the weekend, as my phone suddenly lit up with a battery of missed calls, texts and social media updates. I was back in the 21st Century!

The Sgurr na Ciche group are some of the finest Munro's I have climbed. If you are a hillwalker, I'd say - save them for a sunny day. The miles are long, the ridges steep and the challenges significant; but these hills offer superlative ridge walking, in magnificent scenery. These hills are simply unmissable!