Nearly 10 hours is a long drive to visit a friend for the weekend, but it’s made a lot more palatable when that friend lives in one of your favourite places.

Since spending so much of last year in remote parts of Scotland I had been itching to get back up north and soak up a little more of that highland magic, even if only for a few days. Andrew’s moving to Inverness made for a great reason to nip up the motorway and head out for an adventure.

It began with Ayoob and I driving the long way North from Bristol. Having once spent two weeks walking 260 miles together, about 10 hours in the car with all of its associated comforts was no problem. Combined, we are an invincible force of distance driving capability. Good chats, naps, music, podcasts, snacks, and an airbed in the back of my big estate for the odd lie down if needed. I much prefer a drive to flying. A drive gives you hours to feel the anticipation and excitement of your adventures to come, slowly building, watching the landscape changing around you as you travel through it. Driving is to flying what cycling is to driving, and I love cycling.

The only blip in the entire journey was our search for a lunch stop in Perth. Ayoob had found a cafe on Google which turned out to be Scotlands National Christian Outreach Centre. The patrons of its cafe each looked about ready to step through the pearly gates, and the walls were adorned with bible quotes. I’m not about to debate the positives and negatives of organised religion, but it wasn’t really our vibe. Fortunately, there was a Lidl over the road, so we got the jet boil going and made some pasta whilst sitting in the car park, worshipping at our own personal alter of pesto and mozzarella cheese.

We arrived at Andrew’s place in good time and caught up over a dinner of homemade Cullen Skink, a thick creamy and warming Scottish soup. He’s only been in Scotland a few months but is clearly embracing the culture. Plans were hatched for the next day when we would head West to the Torridon hills for an ascent of Slioch, a Munro looming beside Loch Maree.

The mountain teased us with views poking out from occasional gaps in the cloud which otherwise concealed the beauty of the loch below, and the Fisherfeild forest which on a clear day would be visible from the summit, but scarce views were better than no views. We were battered by high winds as we headed along the ridge, and it was a relief to drop back down to relative shelter. especially for Sam, whose stiff winter boots were reaping havoc with his feet, and resulted in him covering the last few km’s in nothing but his socks. I’ve just decided to start counting my Munro’s, the 282 Scottish mountains above 3000ft. So far I’ve been up 6 of them. I’m not about to make completing them a life goal, but it’s fun to keep track.

Our original plan for the next two days had been to head out to Corrour bothy and traverse Cairn Toul, which would have meant several hours up above the snow line. Crampons and winter boots were prepared, but the weather forecast was against us, with high winds expected across the Cairngorms. Given the wind we’d experienced up Slioch the previous day we made the call that going even higher and for a sustained amount of time would have been foolish.

I sensed that spirits were a little dampened on making a Plan-B. I could tell that Andrew wanted to get us up into the snow and show us a proper Scottish winter adventure, and a bit of the type two fun of the sort that usually accompanies our trips. We settled on taking a walk down Glenfeshie instead, avoiding the worst of the weather, and spending the night at  Ruigh Aiteachain Bothy.

The heavens opened as we began our walk down the glen, fully wrapped up in our waterproofs and gaiters we trudged along the road that began our route. The road seemed to carry on for some time but just as I was beginning to tire of it we crossed a bridge over the Feshie and headed onto the trails through to the wilder part of the Glen. it was a beautiful walk, and we were able to embrace it being less risky and rugged than the sort of terrain we might normally aim for. A smooth track makes for easy conversation.

We did inject a small amount of silly by playing a game I will call ‘Can we walk/climb up this near vertical bank of heather and gorse rather than following the path?’ the answer, of course, is yes we can. I found myself musing about how humans have an obsession with paths. Being on track, going the ‘right’ way. Hacking through pathless ground makes us feel like we’re doing something wrong, and I love it.

I’ve visited around 15 of Scotland’s bothies in the past, and am well versed in what to expect. These shelters are often glamorised by ‘Instagram adventure influencers’ and the like, but some are grim. Cold, dark, smokey, damp, and infested with rats. Others, usually those further from civilisation, are beautiful little buildings, well-maintained, clean, and pleasant places to spend the night. Ruigh Aiteachain blew my expectations out of the water. Recently rebuilt in 2017 by the Glenfeshie estate owners, the bothy was large and clean, with toilets, its own nearby water supply, and firewood. This was a perfect place for us to spend the night, and our cosy room in the bothy was far better than being confined to separate tents. It’s much harder to pass a whisky bottle between tents.

I’m broadly ideologically opposed to the idea of private ownership of vast areas of land, but Glenfeshie appears to be a success story. owned by Dutch billionaire Anders Holch Povlsen, and subject to a 200-year vision of rewilding. 20% of the species which call Glenfeshie home are classified as rare or scarce. In this case, perhaps this land really is better protected in the hands of an ecologically minded billionaire than in the hands of government.

Morning broke and we sauntered back along the Glen before saying our goodbyes and setting off in the direction of home. My cup was full to the brim, and I could tell Ayoob had had a great time because he referred to everything as incredible for at least six hours. Morrisons supermarket was incredible, my very ordinary car was incredible, a McDonald’s wrap was incredible, and somehow, despite having just spent three days in the highlands, even the view from the window of Killington services was considered incredible to behold.

It’s felt like a long winter this year. I’ve been hard at work settling into a new job, trying to learn to run better and dealing with resulting injuries, and had felt like I wasn’t grasping my free time by the horns in the way I wanted to. This trip signifies the change I’d been waiting for, and the calendar is now fast filling up with fun.

With the nights getting longer and drier I’m already thirsting for nights in the woods on the mountain bike, or rolling around my club time trial in search of some strong legs. I’ve also got the Gravel Rally in a few weeks time, a sort of rally stage format gravel ride in Snowdonia, and a mountain biking trip to Switzerland booked for July. Lets go!  ✌️