I hoist myself up through the canopy, sun burning my neck – surely this can’t be October? Across the glen, Braeriach beckons cloudless, naked. But I’m many hours away from him, and in those hours everything could change.

Bikepack or bike drag

It wouldn’t be an adventure if a lot didn’t go wrong.

This time it starts as soon as I leave the house. It’s a sunny Saturday morning and everyone wants to go to Edinburgh. The train is full and my bike cannot fit in.
I do a futile attempt to catch my bus to Aviemore by biking to the city center as fast as I can. Sweaty and out of breath I arrive.. 10 minutes too late. Luckily, I can go on the next bus in an hour for free.

I can afford an hour’s delay. But at Dunkeld the bus breaks down (a classic), and another half hour is added while we wait on the next bus. Miraculously, we all fit in there, including my bike.

By the time we reach Aviemore, I’m not so sure I’ll reach my intended campsite for the night.

Secretly, I had hoped that I'd built some cycling fitness on Edinburgh’s “hills”. But alas, a couple minutes in I’m already out of breath. It’s not like I can take it slow either: after all the bus troubles I have about 1,5 hour before the sun sets. And the route to Loch Einich takes 1,5 hour. With a full pack, easily add another hour on top and you’re riding in darkness. If I were walking, I wouldn’t mind so much – I’ve done many a night hike – but on a bike this seems a less good idea.

And that assessment was right: the route is up and down, up and down, over rolling stones, bumps and holes, through rivers and mudpools – it takes all my focus. My mountain bike suffers, and I do too. In the end it’s mostly my triceps working, more so than my legs. Because something else I did not assess so well: I put all my stuff in two bags on the back of the bike – nice and lightweight, I thought. But this means there’s so much weight on the back, that I almost fall backwards everytime I climb. So I mostly push my bike up. Going down is almost worse, so steep that I’m afraid I’ll roll down, bike and all.

It’s 7 hellish kilometers. The landscape is gorgeous, but I have little eye for it: I am only concerned with getting to Loch Einich before dark. For I don’t see any alternative camp spots either: it’s all heather here.

Despite my snail’s pace, somehow I still manage the route in 2 hours, and in the dying twilight I arrive at the loch. There are two campers already there: one did Braeriach today, the other cycled in from Newtonmore.

Just in time, they laugh.

Last night there was a strong wind, and Braeriach was mostly shrouded in mist today, so I’m glad I decided to come a day later.

I pitch my tent next to the cyclist from Newtonmore, and then I can finally start enjoying myself. It’s one of the most pleasant camps I’ve had in Scotland. I’m next to a river so I have drinking water; the wind is soft, it’s not cold at all and.. no midges!!

So far, autumn has been remarkably mild anyways (something bittersweet). Last week we may have had storm Amy, but the wind has calmed down since, and now I’m hiking in a temperature of 16 degrees.

Bush fights

In the morning, I leave my tent and bike at the loch and continue on foot. I haven’t even walked 10 meters when I already get my feet wet. To climb Sgòr Gaoith, the first hill of the day, I need to cross the outflow of Loch Einich. Because of storm Amy, the river has gained a fair amount of volume: still shallow enough to wade through, but I can’t avoid my calves going under.

Across the river I can still see my tent, beckoning with dry socks.

I imagine marching all day with a puddle in my boots.. I think not! I go back, grab my dry socks and cross the river a third time. After changing into them my shoes are still damp, but at least not soaked.

In the end it didn’t matter much, because immediately after I am swallowed by the bog. I have to walk some distance out of the glen to reach a section of the ridgeline that’s flat enough to climb. And for that I have to plough through deep holes, sludge and shrubbery. Occasionally I find a deer track, but it’s mostly straight through vertical heath.

I ignore my GPS that wants to send me up an impossible cliff and walk (read stumble) a bit further before I start the real climb. And I’m glad I did that, cause even here it’s an absolute slog. I have nothing to say about this other than that it was brutal, and I could only hope it was over soon. It wasn’t. I literally have to pull myself up the shrubs.

The sun has now risen above the hills, and it burns strongly on my back. So strong that I’m hot even in just a t-shirt. Stupidly, I left my sunscreen in the tent and now I have to worry about getting burned, too.
I look back a few times and then I see the clear blue sky above the Cairngorms. With only a gentle breeze it’s the perfect day to be out on the hills.

Then suddenly, the brutal slope flattens out and I’m standing on top of the ridge. I heave a sigh. That’s the worst part of the day over with.

From here it’s a short climb to Sgòr Gaoith, past the cairn of Sgoran Dubh Mor. Up here the wind blows harder; my long sleeve goes back on. From Glenfeshie it’s fairly easy to reach Sgòr Gaoith and this makes it a popular hill with walkers. On the summit they come and go – I’ve never seen so many people on a munro peak. But then again, I’ve never stood on one on a glorious Sunday like this.

Sgòr Gaoith is not only loved because it’s accessible, it’s bloody beautiful too. Its tip perches above jagged crags that drop dramatically down into Loch Einich. Across the glen is Braeriach with its many corries. They look as though they’ve been scooped out of the mountainside with an ice cream scoop. Braeriach, that’s where I’m headed.

A fat cloud and an old friend

Braeriach is Scotland’s third-highest peak, and its views over the Lairigh Ghru rank among the finest in the country. Yet it is much less visited than its bigger brothers, Ben Macdui and Ben Nevis, because of its remote location.

To reach Braeriach from Sgòr Gaoith I have to cross the Moine Mhòr plateau, a vast moorland of hummocks and lochans. For a moment I walk with the munrobaggers, then I curve off the trail, and onto the plateau. The terrain is mostly pathless and occasionally boggy, but it’s nothing compared to the bog this morning, so I really have nothing to complain (except for my camera that I drop in a river). Last time I was up here, the plateau was dark and snowy. Now the grass is bright yellow in the blazing sun.

Deer, raven, eagle, ptarmigan – they all make an appearance today, as in a fairytale.

Until Carn na Criche, one of Braeriach’s lower peaks, the sun is on my side. But every fairytale comes to an end. Near the cairn a cloud envelops me, and suddenly I’m no longer sure I’ll have a view from Braeriach.

Near the source of the river Dee, Lochan Uaine briefly shows across Garbh Choire, perched spectacularly between Cairn Toul and The Angel’s Peak. Then clouds swallow the Cairngorms, and I see nothing all the way to the summit. I wait a while, there’s still time before the sun goes down. She is near, a warm glow through the mist. But no matter how thin the clouds are, they remain stubbornly in place. A group of men passes by, glances briefly at the view that is no view, and moves on.

When the sun starts setting, I have to resign – after all, the day has had enough wonders. I start to descend, and after just a few meters the clouds open up. So soon that it’s suspicious. I cannot help but take one last look at the viewpoint just below Braeriach’s summit.

And there, suddenly, the clouds make way for an old friend, the brocken spectre. The setting sun is perfectly aligned to reflect my shadow in the clouds below me. Around it dazzles glory after glory after glory.

I run back to the summit and she, too, is free now. In the distance, I briefly spot the three men on the ridgeline, graced by a glory, until they are shrouded in white again.

There they are then, the peaks of the Caingorms, peeking above the clouds. They say thank you for your patience.

Maybe soon the clouds will open up further and I could see down into the valley, but I’ve pushed my luck enough now, I think. So I run down towards the setting sun, chased by my brocken spectre.

The sun has just sunk behind Sgòr Gaoith when I find the trail down the hillside. For a moment it’s a steep descent over slippery rocks, but there’s enough light still. Soon the trail flattens out, and I have a pleasant walk back to Loch Einich. For a long time, a pink glow hangs over Braeriach – an alpenglow.

It is said that the alpenglow is indirect light scattered by water particles in the air, but I like to think it’s the sun that hasn’t set yet far in the west – and there’s nothing between her and Scotland’s third-highest peak.

As the last twilight fades, I am already dreaming of the stars rising. How beautiful they will be on a clear night like this. One by one, they start to come out as I reach the lake. Back at my tent, I cook tortellini and by the time I’ve finished my meal, the Milky Way has appeared in the sky. Curled up in my sleeping bag, I stick my head out the tent and gaze at the stars. The magic of the day lingers in the air. I lie there for an hour maybe, in a blanket of peace. I’ve never felt so serene.

Unexpectedly, it gets pretty cold that night. That wasn’t a dream – at dawn, everything is covered with a layer of frost. I put on my frozen shoes and reluctantly start packing. I’m being ridiculous, I think then – I’m in no rush, my bus isn’t until 3 this afternoon. So I crawl back into my sleeping bag and heat up my ice cold feet till the sun appears. She takes her sweet time, but once she rises above the hills, the cold vanishes instantly.

The bike ride back is lovely, mostly downhill with a blissful sun in my back. I take the trail I meant to take on the way here but had missed, low along the river. This trail is much rougher – muddy and dense with pine needles. But it’s great fun to find my way through the obstacles – this is the type of mountain biking that I love.

The mountains disappear from view when I approach Aviemore. The town is sitting in a thick fog bank today. It’s a completely different world from the sunshine high on the Cairngorms. Maybe it’s a good thing she stays there, so I can find her back there again.

This weekend had it all again: hardships and oh so many rewards. To another magical adventure – Scotland has too many for a lifetime.