Kilbo Path and Jocks Road – biking the munros

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Riding in Scotland means that you either accept whatever the weather throws at you or you become an amateur meteorologist, MWIS being your go to reference and are ready to chase the sun even if it means a loooong drive for a day ride. Having mates who are happy to do the same at the drop of a hat (or SMS text as seems to be what da kidz are doing these days) helps as does a willingness to shoulder bikes for an hour or two in the on-going quest to find the best trails. With a promising weather forecast for the north east of the country, Marky Mark and I found ourselves leaving Glasgow at an altogether ungodly hour on Sunday heading for Glen Clova north of Dundee. Meeting up with Shearer at 10 sharp (GCMB riders in on time shocker!) at the head of the Glen, the sun was out and the skies were blue. Things were looking good.

With a westerly wind coming through the Glen, the initial plan to head over the Ministers Path to Glen Prossen then up the fantastically named Shank of Drumfallow was abandoned in favour of a direct ride and carry through Corrie Fee. The map showed the path ending about half a kilometre from the head of the corrie. Knowing that it is a popular walking route, we decided to roll the dice and gamble on their being a path to the summit of our first munro of the day, Mayar. Heading up the Glen on the easy to follow forest track, we caught glimpses of the steep sided mountains through breaks in the trees, their once glaciated faces towering above us in every direction. Reaching the end of the forest path, the corrie opened up in front of us in impressive style. A well maintained path typical of the Cairngorms headed off into the distance and disappeared as our eyes were drawn ever upwards. Riding up wasn’t an option and on first impressions, getting to the top of the corrie had the potential to be a fraught exercise of deleted expletives and clinging on to near vertical faces of rock. “Bollox!” I thought to myself. Still, ever the optimist, on we went and to my delight a stone pitched path revealed itself snaking up past the waterfall. Passing walkers on the ascent who were in equal measure gobsmacked and perhaps a little impressed as we caught up and passed them, every twist and turn of the path brought the increasing realisation that the path had the potential to be a seriously technical challenge as a descent. Without doubt, it would be a toughie with a fair degree of exposure but by the time we crested the top slab, I was already planning a return trip.

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Rocky path turned to grassy track and the wind was beginning to ease off as we carried up the gentler slopes that would lead to the summit of Mayar. Spotting a bank of snow in a gully, Shearer shot off like a two bob rocket to ride down it in good Team Moont style so that Marky could capture it on film. It was going well until a slip caused a stem knee interface. Still, the pics were good so there’s always an upside! The rounded nature of the summit meant that it was only when we reached the summit cairn that we got treated to 360 degree views to the Cairngorms and far beyond. To the west, the peaks of Glenshee and the hulking mass of Ben MacDhui while to the east, Mount Keen invited us for a future adventure. “I can see the mast at Ballater” called out Shearer in his customary style. It’s funny but on every ride we do, he somehow can always see the mast at Ballater. Even in Switzerland! Go figure. Stopping for a brief food stop, stretching out in front of us was the short descent and traverse to munro number two of the day, Dreish. The name might sound dull but the rocky, steep ascent to the summit looked anything but. Things were looking very good indeed.

Saddling up, a short loose and rocky descent past the almost obligatory “You’re mad!” walkers (sorry lads but madness is walking down hills!) led to the easy to follow traverse to the bealach. Back in October, Mark, Lyndsey and I had ridden up the Shank of Drumfallow to the bealach. Visibility was non-existent then so seeing what we had missed last time made for a pleasant surprise particularly the near vertical drop into the corrie beneath Dreish. Eek! Another short but steep carry and spin along interrupted by a blether with a friendly walker and his blonde Alsatian dog and summit number two was in the bag. In the space of less than three hours, we’d knocked out two munros with some really nice riding along the way. However, the best was yet to come in the form of the Kilbo Path. Opting for the steep, loose and at times exposed descent off Dreish, we got down in one piece onto the main descent. An unrelentingly straight trail cut into the side of the mountain, the Kilbo Path isn’t the steepest or most technical trail in the world. However, it’s length means that by the time you reach the forest trail below (even allowing for Shearer suffering his obligatory puncture and tubeless tyre faff), you’ve done really well to have cleaned the descent. It’s a fantastic descent and definitely worth the effort of the climb to get to it.

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Dropping into the treeline, flow was the order of the day. Dry trails, exposed roots, tight turns and narrow track combined for a fantastic descent. “That’s as good as anything I’ve ridden in Colorado” enthused Shearer. We were in the rarefied zone where everything just comes together to make for a perfect trail. Well, right up to the point that Marky’s fancy new black chilli compound tyres jammed between two rocks pitching him headfirst into a burn below. Despite some seriously jaggy rocks, he executed a near perfect commando roll and escaped with nothing more than a wet elbow. It was a reminder that we were still in big mountain territory and keeping our necks wound in wouldn’t be such a bad idea. Unphased, Marky quipped that it was lucky he wasn’t wearing the new helmet he had just bought! Of course, holding back on the descent lasted for a matter of seconds before we cranked things up again. It was all going so well right up to the point that both Marky and Shearer suffered the inevitable curse of the waterbar, pinchflats. With the sun high in the sky and barely a breathe of wind, things could have been worse as Jelly babies fuelled our endeavours. After several failed attempts, one perished tube of glue and several creative expletives, defeat was conceded and a short retreat back to the cars to get more tubes was called for.

Regrouping at the cars, it was barely 3 o clock in the afternoon and we had already bagged a classic big mountain ride. Spurred on by the sunshine and dusty trails, another trail beckoned. This time, a favourite of mine, Jocks Road, was selected. A gentle rise on pine needle covered trails took us into another steep sided Glen. Running all the way to Braemar, I’d last ridden here in 2010 with MC and Graham Pinkerton or rather just MC as Graham’s XT freehub h ad seized solid mid ride cueing a long walk back to the car. The final descent had stuck in my memory as something of a technical delight with some gnadgery steep sections of bedrock ready to catch out the unwary or unlucky. Alternating between riding and carrying, it was a race to catch the last of the afternoon sun before it dropped behind Mayar in order to snap off a few pictures in the golden hour of light. Reaching our turnaround point of the howff masquerading as a shelter, the valley below us was bathed in the beautiful golden light that Scotland does so well at this time of year. In the sunshine, it was hard to imagine that the valley saw one of the worst tragedies in Scottish hillwalking in recent times. On January 1st 1959, 5 members of a walking club set out from Braemar heading for Glen Doll youth hostel. Sadly, the weather closed in and a major storm engulfed the area for two days. The first body, that of James Boyle, was found on the 4th of January but it wasn’t until April that the final body was recovered. A sobering tale and a reminder of the sometimes unforgiving nature of Scotland’s mountains in winter.

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After topping up on Jelly babies and Coke, we were off and riding back down the glen. The descent was every bit as good as I had remembered it with Marky Mark riding his SID forks to the very limit and beyond of what they were designed for while Shearer had a set of malfunctioning Marzocchi’s to contend with along with trying to avoid yet another puncture. Dropping into the forest trail, it was a fast blast through the trees along the banks of the river that took us back to the cars. It had been a truly epic day out. Though never very far from our start point, we had experienced some truly memorable big mountain riding on what could easily have passed for a summer’s day. Finishing it off with Chinese food from the carry out in Scone on the way back down the road made or the perfect end to a great day out.
Where next in our quest for big mountain riding fun? Who knows but it will have to be pretty special to beat Dreish and Mayar!

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3 Comments

  1. another cracking ‘big day’ story Sanny – great stuff, keep them coming !

  2. Cheers mister!

    Schehallion report next!

  3. Mean write up and wicked pic man! never thought i’d say i miss the Sanny epic rides 🙂
    hope you’re all well there! CHeers
    G

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