Pete headed into the Scottish wilderness near Ullapool with H+I Adventures to tick off some long overdue firsts before winter opened its account.
Words and photos by Pete Scullion.
Our man Pete heads further north into the Scottish Highlands than ever before and bags his first overnight bothy stop in the process. Day 1 saw almost 50 miles of riding, 5,000ft up and down, 2 types of eagle and a billion red deer, plus abut 7,000 calories burnt apiece.
Chris and Donald from H+I Adventures, my guides and pack mules, for the trip at the high point in the old drove road to Dundonnell.
Beinn Dearg Mor, our view across the glen from our overnight stop, could be seen from pretty much everywhere.
Sitting in the clouds just above Chris, leading out here, is An Teallach, one of Scotland’s most famous peaks.
Chris isn’t afraid to get a little damp out in the wilds. This is Scotland, you’re going to encounter water at some point.
Once off the access track that follows the route of the old drove road, we’re graced by some classic Highland singletrack. A surface that almost seems man-made is courtesy of the ice that made the surrounds so impressive. Donald makes tracks toward the bothy.
Shenavall Bothy. Sitting on the northern flank of a glen full of deer, overwatched by eagles and with a million star rating. Certainly not the worst place to have to spend the night, or even as my first bothy stop.
Countless visitors to the bothy have peeled bark from one of the few trees whose branches have grown high enough off the ground to escape the deer. Word worm have spent a lifetime making their own mark here too.
You know you’ve seen a big bird when the Golden Eagle you just saw looks like a blue tit in comparison. There’s good reason they call the Sea Eagle ‘the flying barn door’. This photo hardly does the raptor justice.
All hunkered down, the fire flickering away nicely and the sky clearing, showing why Shenavall sports such a high star rating despite its meagre facilities. No phone signal or internet for a full day after this. Magic.
Donald tucks into some locally made adult beverage as the night wears on and we discuss the merits of less deer, more wolves and beavers with the three ecologists we’re sharing the bothy with.
You truly haven’t seen stars until you’ve come to a part of the World with little to no artificial light. You’ve time enough here to pick a star and let your eyes adjust to the rotation of the Earth. Saw a shooting star. Made a wish.
Morning broke and our bikes seemed far more prepped and ready for the day ahead that I was. Me and Chris would bid farewell to Donald here. Who had the unenviable task of heading back the way we came to pick up the van.
These guys had been within touching distance of the bothy all night, but soon made tracks as soon as we were up an about. This big stag had plenty of ladies in his hareem ready for the rut ahead.
Certainly didn’t expect to find a beach on our ride. This one certainly felt like we were way closer to the sea than we were. Just before we got feet wet crossing the river.
If you were to ask me how to some up Chris Gibbs, I’d say this photo pretty much does it. More than happy to test the depth and current, and to come back to get my camera bag when I feared it’d get soaked due to my tiny legs.
Soon after the river crossing, we’d be back on some more singletrack that doesn’t seem to make sense. Too well manicured for such a remote location, but who was I to complain? The isolation really started setting in from here.
The mountain behind Chris’ back wheel blocks our overnight digs and even looking back down the well-defined singletrack we’d climbed, it didn’t really feel like we were close to anything or anyone. Just two dudes in the middle of nowhere.
From the middle of nowhere to the back of beyond. I’d been into the Highlands proper before and was used to seeing nobody else all day, but this trail really kicked it up a notch. Splendid isolation in spades.
More massive raptors than you can shake a stick at. After being bowled over by the Sea Eagle the day before, it was just as impressive to see how a Golden Eagle could gain 3000ft without ever beating a wing.
Fisherfield. As close to Norway as you can get without having to leave the UK. We’d hardly been hard pressed for postcard views, but the glacial nature of the terrain got turned up to 11 here.
Chris’ nickname might well be ‘Bear’ but this terrain can make anyone look and feel tiny.
Oh Scotland. Fisherfield and high, bright autumnal sunshine (60mph wind not pictured) combined to make a scene that has me itching to return. You could point your eyes anywhere here and see something postcard-worthy.
Dear Scotland. Be Mine. Love, Peter.
The final push to Poolewe saw the legs burning after almost 6 hours on the bikes. A filthy road climb and a super physical descent finished me off before a brutal road stint into aforementioned 60mph wind.To ride what I rode with Chris and Donald, get yourself along to H+I Adventures’ Coast-to-Coast Scotland page.
Our journey from the van to Poolewe makes up Day 3 of this week long Scottish adventure. Full details here.
Look out for Part 2 coming soon, and for interviews with Chris Gibbs and H+I Adventures co-owner Euan Wilson.
