noun, plural both·ies. Scot. Def. a hut or small cottage.
A bothy is a communal chalet in the mountains. It is a shelter, free for all to use, that is mostly left unlocked. It is generally found in remote mountainous areas of Scotland, Northern England, Northern Ireland and Wales.
The idea for Proper Cycling Magazine was born on this trip, as I sat in a smoke-filled, candlelit single room bothy in the Cairngorm National Park, Scotland. It was the end of Day 1 and as I was waiting for my water to boil for my freeze-dried pasta, my brain went into overdrive for an all-new cycling magazine… But that's a story for another day!
Back in November 2018, Shackleton Whisky approached Proper Adventure, our sister magazine, to document a Biking the Bothies adventure. Shackleton embodies the spirit of Sir Ernest, a British polar explorer to the Antarctic, bringing his sense of adventure to life in a modern way. It’s a fearless, encouraging brand that inspires others to get out there and experience the world. It also promotes camaraderie by bringing people together in friendship and solidarity. Shackleton understands that it takes true courage to try something new. Their core brand values sit perfectly with those that we represented at Proper Adventure - like us, they are #OpenForAdventure, so how could we have refused the challenge?
The team consisted of myself, Paul Brett, Amy Shore, Cat Sutherland and Donald Shearer. Amy and I collected the bikes from Shand Cycles the previous day. Shand had kindly loaned us their wonderfully named Bahookies and Stooshie bikes that are handbuilt in Scotland. We looked forward to testing them in the Cairngorms’ challenging environment. We had arranged to meet Cat and Donald in Aviemore around midday. We had a nice drive up from Edinburgh, discussing a variety of subjects, including the Beatles, camera settings and catching colds from toddlers.
Once we met up with Cat and Donald, we geared up, set the bikes up and headed for our starting point, Glenmore. It was meant to be a fairly easy loop around the north of the main Cairngorm massif to ease us into the saddle. The plan was to spend the night in Ryvoan Bothy, a single-roomed bothy with a sleeping platform for four. We were hoping that we would be the only people staying the night.
Ryvoan Bothy was a fairly easy cycle up from Glenmore Lodge, with some steady climbs and downhill sections. It was pretty enjoyable for Amy and me, as we were only getting back in the saddle for the first time in a while. We stopped at the famous Green Lochan for some shots and realised that we had forgotten the firewood, which wasn’t ideal on a cold October night in the Scottish Highlands. After a brief debate, we decided that we would head to the bothy anyway and see if there was any wood left by its previous occupants. Unfortunately for me, there wasn’t and after emptying my bag, I had decided to cycle back in the dark to get the firewood. I must say, cycling downhill with just my headtorch guiding the way was an interesting experience.
The cycle back up to the bothy was tough, with the climbs feeling longer in the dark and the weight of the wood making it a testing return journey. I was joined by a small herd of deer, keeping me company and randomly crossing my path, I was glad to see the candlelight glow from the bothy window as I finally made it back.
Once back at the bothy, Donald fueled the fire and we settled in with some hot food and a few drams around the fire for what was to become a long and disturbed night. The reason we had a long night was a couple who had also decided to stay in the bothy. Unfortunately, they snored so loudly that it kept everyone awake for most of the night. I think the amusing highlight of the night was when Cat sat up at around 4 a.m. and declared: “I can’t take it anymore, I’m going to sleep outside!” - and off she went. I also decided that enough was enough and headed outside for a hot cup of tea. Luckily, I got to see the sunrise over the bothy which made up for the snoring.
The door opened and the source of our problems also stepped outside. “Good morning,” he said, “sleep well?” Unsure whether this was a sarcastic or a genuine question, I mumbled something about the weather and headed inside to pack up my kit for the day ahead.
At 7 a.m., with my mouth still full of porridge, I felt energised as we set off for our main day of riding. A herd of deer observed us from the ridge above... My guess is they were probably the same deer that entertained me the night before on my ride back to the bothy. Slowly, one by one, they disappeared over the ridge.
After a fairly easy cycle on our first day, day 2 was looking like a more serious endeavour. Our route would cover a whole load of terrain from tarmac to gnarly single track, through the ancient Scots pines and a few tricky river crossings, only to finish at Feshie Bothy, Ruigh Aiteachain. We would then have a feast prepared by Pete Roobot of FireChef Cookware. Throughout the day, I kept hoping that I’d sent him to our intended bothy... “Time will tell”, I told myself for the hundredth time.
Once we got off the tarmac track that led us right into Glen Feshie, we could see down the glen. With a heavy flowing river as our only company, I began to wonder about the river crossings ahead. The first one was negotiated with ease as we cycled into the forest, going up and down some lovely trails, marvelling at the ancient giant pines that lined both sides of the trail. When we entered a single track covered by a few roots here and there, Amy put her Endura helmet to a field test with a crash that brought her over the handlebars, resulting in a nice dent in the helmet, but thankfully, no serious injury.
The trail suddenly came to an abrupt end with a massive drop down to the river. Donald informed us that a bridge had once stood there, but it was swept away in a storm a few years back. “Some storm,” I thought to myself. On the steep and loose ground, we made it down to the river and picked our way across. Our feet were wet, but fortunately, we weren’t too cold as we scrambled to the other side, stopping for a warming dram and some photos.
As we continued down the glen, we could see that the weather was changing. The sweeping belts of rain and angry clouds were now in store for us. We focused on that delicious bowl of warming stew that awaited us at the bothy as we approached the next obstacle, our old river friend; the third crossing of the day. As we debated on the points of entry and exit, we were greeted with what turned out to be one of the highlights of the trip, a magical white horse. It appeared out of the bushes and stood there watching. As we plunged into the fast-flowing, ice-cold water, the horse continued to stare. Donald had impressively cycled over the obstacle, but Cat, Amy and myself decided to push through it, using the bikes for balance. As the river hit knee level and the cold water nipped at my exposed skin, I was glad I decided to push - unlike Donald, I would have probably crashed and been seriously soaked. Our horse friend kept a watchful eye on us as we crossed the river and hit another climb up the side of the glen. Thankful for some tarmac as the rain started to fall, we realised that we had unnecessarily crossed the river... Our bothy was now on the other side of the river. The fourth river crossing of the day lay ahead.
As we searched for a suitable point, Cat commented on her seeing “a giant of a man, carrying what looked like a bouldering mat” on the other side of the river. “That must be Pete,” I announced with optimism! But the mystery man had now disappeared from view.
As we were crossing the river one more time, a Land Rover Defender with some happy passengers drove across. I cursed them under my breath, wishing it was me as I eased my sore backside back onto the saddle. However, it wasn’t too long before we arrived at our destination. Another cyclist was outside and asked with curiosity, “are you the guys that the big man is cooking for?” I hurried inside to greet Pete and listen to his story of how he’d carried an incredible amount of ingredients and kit, including a massive cast iron pot, from the same starting location as ourselves.
We selected our sleeping points for the night in what can only be described as the lavish surroundings of the Feshie Bothy, the most comfortable and welcoming bothy I’d ever been in. I was looking forward to an evening of food and whisky.