GNT - Day 7 - Callender to Loch Ossian - 18/08/21

Breakfast by the loch at a relaxed pace was a pleasure. The bike shop wouldn’t be open until 10.00 so, whilst this would come back to bite us later, an enforced slow start was bliss. A lovely sunny morning, lighting up the water and the rolling green and purple Trossachs made quite a backdrop. Kit packed, we set off back towards Callender for essentials, leaving Emma to get her seat post fixed. Coffee and muffin at Fat Jacks and when Emma joined us it was time to ride. 

The first section from Callander to Strathyre and on to Killin was a breeze, along tarmac or packed gravel cycle track following the old railway line. The odd little climb and a few twists, but fast progress. Before Killin, the track tilts upwards, with a long, steady pull. Not steep and a good surface so we pushed on. If only we knew. Awesome descent into Killin and the popular Falls of Dochart. We had arranged with one of my dad’s old army pals, Tobin, who lived in Sterling, to meet us for lunch in Killin. Tobin and his wife, Sue had been staying with my parents when Heledd and I went to tell them we were engaged way back in 1988. Tobin was one of 4 ex-army folk (including my dad) who cycled from Somerset to Rome in their 60s - so he understood the nature of our adventure. It was lovely to see Tobin but we had some work to do, so off we went via the outdoor shop where we picked up some food.

The first section after lunch was easy, with a tarmac road gradually climbing up Glen Lochay. Then we turned right and the fun started. A long, steep climb over the hill towards Bridge of Balgie. It was tough slogging up with all our kit, but manageable. Slightly disintegrated tarmac - but still tarmac. All these hills seem to have a steep section and a long, gradual run off at the top. The descent, though, was a dream. We then had a long section of mostly downhill on the road, eating up the easy miles and stopping to take pictures of highland cattle bathing in the river. There was the occasional house and the odd car festooned with fishing rods but we were now into Highlands proper. 

Just after Bridge of Balgie, our route left the road and took a rough, rocky track up a steep climb. Much of it was rideable, but on some sections, there was no shame in walking. This one went on a bit and even at the top, it went on a bit more. The views were astonishing, though, with a steep v-shaped valley to our left and the adjacent hillside dark with purple heather and deep cuts where streams rushed down to the valley below. The descent from this one was good, though tougher than the last one and from here on it all gets a bit hazy. It was now 5.00pm and we had 5 hours of riding in our legs and we still had 25 miles to do. Hard ones too. 

Had we known how hard, I’m not sure how we would have dealt with the knowledge! We followed a forest track for some time, making steady progress, a bit of up, a bit less down. Some time ago, we had looked in every direction and couldn’t see another living thing. Not even sheep. No roads or houses, nothing. Just wilderness and more wilderness. Then, out of nowhere, a 4-wheel drive came past us, and then everything went to shit. 

Our route took a right turn off the rideable gravel onto a completely unrideable path, through thick, tall bracken. Big route fail and we should have re-routed, but it didn’t look too far so we plunged on. And on. And on. The language deteriorated as we stumbled and struggled through. Kate has a weird sense of humour, though and she seemed to brighten up and I could hear her and Emma chatting and laughing behind me. They breed them tough in Norfolk. 

After an eternity, we escaped the bracken and found a rideable gravel track and bounced and shook the remaining miles to Loch Rannoch. From there, we had a good stretch of road towards Rannoch Station, before our route took us right up the gravel track, poetically named the ‘Road to the Islands’. Our destination was a youth hostel on the shores of Loch Ossian on the Corrour estate, owned by the Tetrapack billionaire Rausing family, but we still had a long way to go. Sensing the finish, Kate got on the front and lit the burners, but still the miles passed slowly with the track that never ended. 

By now the light was fading and it was getting cold. It was well past 8.00pm and we were over the 10 hour mark when finally the Loch came into sight and the track bent towards the southern end and our destination for the day. Clusters of tents and a collection of vans surrounded the hostel and we finally trundled to a stop just before 9.00pm. This called for a group hug and a few moments to celebrate a monumental day in the saddle. 

We all felt a little disoriented but quickly sorted some warm clothes, found our room and some food. We were sharing the hut with a group of builders, up here for 6 months working on the estate. (You can rent the big house for £25k per night, or one the slightly less eye-wateringly expensive cottages) We were very happy with the luxury of a proper bed, a real fire and a hot shower. 

As we took turns to wash and prepare food, we chatted with Kath, the lady who runs the place for 1 week in 4 and a Glaswegian chap (name?) who does odd jobs around the place, living in a tent while he does. Turns out Kath was from an army family, worked as a highly paid civil servant when she decided, kids off her hands, the rat race wasn’t making her happy, so she took the job here and also works some days at the Station House café where we plan to eat breakfast. More importantly, she is a trained masseuse and gave us all much needed shoulder and neck massages. Dinner eaten, whisky dispatched, we were beyond tired and fast asleep as head met pillow. Harder than day 1? Don’t know. Different. We are stronger and more adept now, despite the cumulative fatigue. No doubt though, this was an epic day.