Under the abundant shade of a thick grove of Scots pines, sunlight finally flooded my tent around 8 a.m. — 1 a.m. Colorado time. Still, I proved to be the late riser in the group, stumbling out bleary-eyed more than an hour after Amber and Danni. They were contentedly sipping coffee as I plopped down to crunch handfuls of cold granola. I didn’t bring a camp stove to Scotland — this was as much a test of will as a way to keep my kit lighter and more compact. My therapist has been urging me to wean off caffeine since January, and I was determined to try a week of total abstinence. This may be the hardest aspect of treating generalized anxiety disorder — the one substance that brings me so much joy and cheap, easy dopamine hits, I am told I shouldn’t have.
Our morning would continue on the Great Glen Way, paralleling the western shore of Loch Ness. We were delighted to discover this route included miles of loamy singletrack, soft and flowing beneath a mossy canopy. Every so often we’d climb out of the forest to sweeping views of the narrow lake that’s home to popular Scottish lore. I joked that the Scotland tourism board should set up an animatronic Nessie in the lake to randomly surface for thrills and photos. It’s interesting to consider phenomena like the Loch Ness monster, local legends that started as mere stories a thousand years ago but have persisted for so long that the world is now filled with true believers. Indeed, even this skeptic allowed herself to wonder if perhaps there is a Mesozoic marine reptile lurking beneath the frigid waters of a lake in Scotland.
We made a few diversions to visit random tourist attractions such as this “Stone Seat” at the top of a steep footpath. Supposedly it offers views of Loch Ness, but the forest around it was too thick. I still think an animatronic Nessie would be a better investment.
The singletrack dropped closer to the lake shore as we pedaled into the busy town of Fort Augustus. Here, Danni and Amber seemed eager to exit town quickly, but I coaxed them over to a gas station to participate in one of my favorite bike-touring activities: Buy a bunch of interesting junk food and eat it while sitting cross-legged in the parking lot and people-watching. For this lunch, I enjoyed a paper-wrapped piece of “Chicago” pizza, a pint of strawberries, an Orangina (delicious French soda that I can never find stateside), and “Protein Pudding” that tasted just like a cheap Kraft pudding cup but had the benefit of 20 grams of protein powder. Danni decided to try a whiskey-flavored “Scottish tablet,” which we decided tasted like a block of instant tooth decay.
We skirted along Loch Oich and climbed back into the hills over Loch Lochy — laughing that its name is essentially “Lake Lakey” — as views of the big mountains began to emerge. These “Munros” look imposing with the tallest, Ben Nevis, towering over us at 4,411 feet — about the same altitude as my hometown in Sandy, Utah. Altitude means little when the treeline ends at 1,600 feet and the alpine tundra fades beneath rocky couloirs and thick snowfields at this height. Wavering on the edge of the undulating doubletrack, I suddenly felt confined on my bike, gazinng longingly at the shrouded slopes and daydreaming about an alternate universe where I had an ice ax and crampons and nothing but time.
At Garilochy we left the Great Glen way, a route that had been nothing but kind to us for 70 miles. But it was time to turn east toward the East Highland Way and a foreboding sky that I was certain would lead to evening rain. After all, this is Scotland. From here, our route followed a highway and paved roadside paths for 20 miles. It was easy, mindless spinning but felt like drudgery to me. It’s funny, because I normally don’t dislike road riding. Even after a collision with a truck’s side-view mirror in 2021 left me far more frightened of riding in traffic, I still feel drawn to the effortless flow of pavement. But here, surrounded by snowy peaks, I wished I could be back in the mountains.
I got my wish when we turned off the highway to a lovely ribbon of Scottish “singletrack” road along the River Spean. The foreboding sky started to clear, drenching the landscape in colorful evening light. We pedaled another four miles, passing through the tiny town of Fersit, before stopping at a small dam along Allt Chaorach Mor. It was a lovely spot, a grassy meadow surrounded by taiga and a real waterfall trickling behind the reservoir. The false waterfall of the dam created a cacophony of white noise that we decided might help us sleep through our jet lag.
Danni and Amber were determined to wake up at 5 a.m. to make an appointment to tour a distillery the following day. The distance seemed short — about 30 miles — but I wasn’t so sure. Bike touring is unique like that. You want to do all of the tourist things, but ultimately the trail (and your legs) have the final say.
Since I was already a complete teetotaller and not motivated by whiskey, I set an alarm for 7:30 a.m. and happily anticipated my solo morning ride.
re: caffeine, I stopped several years ago also for anxiety. I switched to decaf and while finding varieties can be harder, it is worth it. Every now and then I end up drinking regular coffee and find myself shaking within minutes and feeling poorly for hours.
The ride looks fantastic! And I laughed at Loch Lochy!
Scotland is such a stunningly beautiful land. I'm enjoying following this adventure.