Day One - Saturday 19th July 2008 - Kirroughtree

Advertised start time was 09:00, and the bulk of the party had arrived within half an hour, save for guess who? Jason, of course, and Andy. Well, at least they got the right day. The full squad was, in no particular order, Arthur, Steve W and Chris D (the Weekenders), Keith, Steve B, Jason, Andy and a Gollum-like skinny git.

The overall plan may have seemed a bit hazy, but Day One had the very definite target of Kirroughtree, the furthest-flung of the Seven Stanes Trail Centres. Must say a few words before we get into it for the kindly souls who eased the whole process - Arthur, who took on the role of chauffeur to Chris, Steve W who hauled himself up there to travel back alone, and Andy who provided his spare tent for Chris and also accompanied Steve W on the fairly lengthy drive out west. 

We left the comfort of our natural surroundings just after ten, and had only travelled a mile before Jason piped up "I've left me bike shoes in me van". Now luckily, there was another reason to swing around and do the last few streets again - see here - runner vid 900KB However, as it happened, his shoes were directly under the Gollum's feet in the back of the trip truck!

Quiz Question - how many cans can you get in a Beemer's boot?

The GollyMobile underwent a couple of driver changes as the small convoy threaded its way along the A69 and up through Gretna where there was an impromptu pie stop. Then we moved west to Dumfries and out the west side towards Newton Stewart. The first camp site we had targeted, Mossyard, thanks to Keith's diligent digging through the Google world, was closed when we arrived mid day-ish, but eventually a delightful young lady (I think that's how we all described her) appeared at the Reception doorway to inform us the site was full, although Keith had been told there would be space and there was no need to book in advance! We left there a trifle unhappy and threatening to commit unspeakable acts on various parts of her anatomy, but very gently (under our breaths, of course). That's a bit sexist, I'm gonna strike it out later if I remember.

Luckily Keith had also sussed out another site, the Auchenlarie Holiday Park, just a mile further up the A75 and we got on that, although when we all trooped in to that reception to be told "£18 per pitch Sir...", we stared at each other in disbelief. However, after a quick Committee Meeting outside, we decided we'd have to grin and bear it after Arthur failed to get through to the Youth Hostel at Minigaff up the road. So we set about creating Version One of MidAirCrisis Tent Village in a virtually empty part of the casual camper's field. See here -

While the lads were busy getting their crockery laid out and neatly stretching their duvets across their camp beds, the Gollum thought he'd have a troll up to Reception and pay the bill. When he got there, he managed to bypass the very efficient young lady who'd talked to them on arrival, and become engaged in conversation with another lady of similar advancing years to himself. Luckily, she was having trouble with her computer terminal so he managed to trap her in a tangled web of geek-speak, or to put it another way, to chat her up a bit. (Ok, don't believe me!). The upshot of the conversation was a total charge of 18 squid for ALL of us, including the 8 tents, 2 cars and the truck. Not a bad night's work, thought the Gollum as he trotted back down to unroll his ferns. May be an ugly cretin but sure has the spiel. When he got there he noticed a large hump of blue fabric and aluminium poles lying near the rubbish bins. Further enquiries revealed the first casualty of the week - Jason's new gazebo, which had turned itself inside out in the high winds and destroyed itself! Apparently I missed a real treat watching him try to assemble it himself before being lifted off the ground by the wind! And one observation - if Keith loses his bag of tent pegs, there'll be enough work for two new steel plants in Taiwan to make him a new set. (it's the blue one on the right, if you hadn't guessed).

With Base Camp One set up, it was time to make the short trip along the A75 to Kirroughtree. We unloaded the bikes in brilliant sunshine and set off on this fabulous trail around mid-afternoon, almost having the whole place to ourselves. Since our last visit here they've added some interest and chopped out some boring fireroad, and the trail was super fun, enjoyed by all and leaving every little cherubic complexion grinning widely. I find it sooo frustrating that I just cannot get a video clip of Steve W without such a grin. This MTB lark is serious stuff, you know! Unfortunately there was a cost involved, and that was a puncture for Andy who'd already swapped a tube back at base, and later a mechanical for the Rubber Man, Chris, who, while managing to avoid the dreaded run of punctures he's suffered lately, couldn't prevent his rubber chain snapping not once, but twice in rapid succession! The Mongoose's fairly tired old chain snapping twice in an hour also showed up a few other drive train issues Chris has after almost a year on the bike. At one stage it looked like we'd have to piece everyone's spare Powerlinks together to make a brand new chain for him! Couldn't stop him smiling, however, and the same applied to every one of us. Here's Golden Links himself -

To a man, we all thoroughly enjoyed riding the dust off this place. If there are any ladies out there who are worried their hubbies/boyfriends or whatever may turn into sad old chair-bound, telly-glued cabbages, send them out here with us and get both your lives revitalised! We finished the ride in the same hot sunshine as we'd started it, got loaded up fairly smartly and shoved in a fresh driver to get us back for supper and our first kip in the wild.

JAY, STEVIE & KEITH - THE BLOOD(y) CLOTS

Oops, almost forgot. Yes, we were all smiling, but it wasn't like that at one particular spot on the Kirroughtree fasties, because that's where, after Golly had led the bunch along Omega Man and was then overtaken by the two maniacs, Jason became Casualty Number One when he thundered into the rocky ground on a really quick singletrack. He was winded and that kept him quiet for a while, but from the left ankle up he was written off! He did, however, suffer considerable pain in a little finger, and there he learned a very hard lesson about wearing fingerless gloves. I mean, this ain't golf, is it? At least he corrected the problem and vowed never to wear them again. Can't show you some of the pics, but here's a few to be going on with -

One other notable event - Stevie W did another major trackstand here to continue notching up a fine example on every trail we visit. Is he a Mad Hatter or what?

We packed the bikes away, clambered into the cars and made our way sensibly back towards the camp site. However, on the return leg of the trip out we were confronted by a police car half a mile from the site entrance, blocking our way. The nice man in black got out of his car, stuck a cone in the middle of the road and instructed us and the two tourist cars in front of us to turn back and find another route past the problem. Steve and Arthur had managed to get their cars in front of the Fuzz box, but we were indeed forced to ignore that fact and find a detour. This took us on a 20 mile loop around the back of Creetown and into the north side of Gatehouse of Fleet before rejoining the A75 and heading west again.

When we arrived near the site we were met by another Panda car with a very friendly Panda inside, who informed us it looked like a fatality so we couldn't get through. Luckily the lads had remembered all the cans and bottles on view in the GollyMobile and had cleared them out of sight before we stopped. The very chatty Policeman suggested we find a cup of tea somewhere and wait until the road was cleared, but couldn't tell us how long that would be. Anyway, we turned around, displaying our missing offside rear sidelight to the Occifer, and headed back to Gatehouse where we decided to hunt supper. We found it by asking a local yob if he knew of a chippy nearby. "Behand ye, ya bleynd Geordie baastarrrrd" he offered politely in his genteel native tongue, pointing to a fish and chip van parked just behind us in the town square. The five of us - Andy, Jason, Keith, Stevie B and Yours Truly parked up next to the van and emptied his chip pan. Lovely!

Throughout this period, well over an hour and a half, Stevie was in touch with Chris at the scene of the accident. keeping up-to-date on the state of play. We finally got the all-clear from Chris and off we went again. Only to be stopped by the same PC and told we couldn't proceed! Prompted by the others, Golly asked if we could creep up the road and wait a bit closer to the site, so we could at least walk in and get our lives going again, to which the kindly chap agreed. We parked on the verge, where we seem to spend most of our lives anyway, and sauntered down to the tents to find the others already preparing their evening meals. Soon after we were "politely requested" to move the van off the grass verge, so Golly did that. He had to negotiate a very large spread of broken glass right at the camp site gates. Down at McVillage (gedit?), we discovered from Chris that there were two cars and a van involved, and much to the Gollum's relief, one of them wasn't his youngest daughter's Clio, which had passed this very spot on her way up to Ayr a few hours earlier. We retired around 11:30pm after a good chuckle session and post-ride mortem around the camping stoves.

The word "windbreaker" assumed a whole new meaning on this trip. Keith got First Prize.

Cost of accommodation - £18.00, Running Total per Person - £2.25

Day Two - Sunday 20th July 2008 - The Forest of Ae

Golly became the early morning cock, raising the rest after he'd showered at 07:00am, and after a hurried breakfast and pack-up we were ready for our next move - to the Forest of Ae about 10 miles north of Dumfries. Another driver change and off we went in convoy. This trip didn't go quite as smoothly as planned, however, when there was a request from the bowels of the van to find a shop. That meant an off-route excursion into the centre of Dumfries where Morrisons became the food station for 10 minutes or so. On leaving there we somehow lost Steve and Andy, so Arthur's car and the van travelled up to Ae together, with the other car nowhere to be seen. At least we were fairly certain that everyone knew how to get there so we just continued up the road.

After unloading the bikes and preparing for the ride, we spent the best part of twenty minutes just mulling around the Cafe/Bike Hire Shop hoping Steve would appear. While we were all eagerly watching the car park entrance, Stevie and Andy arrived behind us on their bikes! They'd also waited at the other car park for us to show, before setting out to look for us! Quite a few of the party had never ridden at Ae Forest which is why we'd targeted it to include the weekenders. Once again the weather was very kind, providing an almost perfect riding experience. And so did the trail.

It's changed quite a lot since our last visit, but for the better I'm pleased to report. One section in particular, installed as a diversion around the Ae Line Trail, was absolutely fantastic and super-fast for ages as it plunged downhill, almost Alpine-like in speed and drop rate. On the previous singletrack downhill, the old twit managed to scuff his right pedal on one of the very many boulder traps that encroach onto the side of the trail, and it ripped the cleat sole right out of his super twelve quid LiDL cycling shoe! Twap!

Both Steve B and Golly were experimenting with different berm handling (Alo, Alo, that's BERM, you French twit) and finding faster ways to get around the things. Never seen Arthur grin so much as when we pulled up for a rest half way down! This trail section was just after an amazing tree-lined roller coaster which ended with a pair of stout fir trees just over half a metre apart (yep, handlebar gap) and a take-off between them! I think Keith tested this gap minutely on his way through! The final blast down from there was much swoopier and quicker than it was a year ago with a whole new series of berms and take-offs leading back onto the top of the old Red-Black split and the very quick duckboard run to the fireroad finish. That nasty boulder-strewn stretch of Plora Crags has been ditched, much to Andy's delight. Even the last descent had it's woes, however, as Steve B got a pinch flat on a fast landing and that stopped the charge for five minutes.

A bit earlier,  Jason had perked up again after yesterday's accident and took over the lead for the final romp. Behind him were Skippy and the Gollum, and it soon became apparent to the latter that Stevie wasn't about to let Jason's luminous jacket disappear from view on this, the fastest bit of the whole place. That meant we gradually increased our speed to catch him up, and when we arrived at the doubles and triples, with that bright green blob now almost within touching distance as we ran him down, the second batch managed to get Steve slightly crossed up on landing and he hit the dirt at something approaching the speed of an incoming meteorite. He didn't want to get up when the Gollum sprang to his aid, but he did want his leg held up in the air. That's when next-to-arrive Keith suggested that with Skippy's head being downslope and Golly holding his leg a metre off the ground in the other direction, the blood may just be moving the wrong way! Geet fun watching his head boil and his leg turn white, however!

It only took Stevie as long as it had taken Jason to recover the previous day, hardy souls, and they both displayed virtually the same damage in the same body areas. There should have been some great black-and-blue bruise pix for you but none was taken, sorry! here's the immediate damage though -

and here are the holes he made in the trail when he landed

We spent a good while sitting outside the cafe supping coffees in the sunshine, and were joined by yet another Whyte rider (a Londoner) who wanted to compare notes with us, and ask about trails in the Lakes and the lower Stanes. After we'd said our "Goodbyes" in the car park and watched Steve W (now travelling alone), Arthur and Chris depart it was time for the remaining quintet to squeeze into the van and head north to Glencoe, where we would seek out the Red Squirrel Camp Site following Jason's many recommendations. Andy had also stayed there before and both were keen to use it again. It had the unique advantage of allowing campers to set the forest alight near their tents - wow!

With an extra bod in the vehicle the gutter humour degenerated even further, and whoever happened to be piloting the thing (Jason at the moment) became the object of much abuse as the other four perfect drivers picked up on every little 70mph excursion into the heather as something major. You can hardly blame the lad for wanting to see the wonders of Glencoe rather than keep his eyes on the road, can you? Somehow we survived it and reached our destination in the early afternoon.

Red Squirrel is indeed a great little site, and we were soon pitching the somewhat smaller 5-tent village and getting down to organising our first ride. That was to be at Fort William, where we were planning to undertake one or two of it's tempting trails. Jason, with his usual air of invincibility, declared we should do the 14 hour loop around Big Ben, but the rest of us were maybe a little more conservative in measuring our abilities and managed to talk him out of it, although Steve looked as though he may be easily swayed towards the Man's Ride. This was one of several occasions when planning and practicality didn't quite meet in the middle, like considering doing two trail centres in one day with many miles between them and our campsite some way off! Just not feasible.

About ten past eleven, the nice young Polish site warden arrived in the glow of our hearth and plonked a bucket of water down in front of him. Then he just stood there grinning at us each in turn. Didn't know if he wanted us to wash him down, or he wanted to wash us down or what! No, more straightforward you'll be pleased to know. It was time for "lights out", and that meant the fires had to be doused, so we permitted him to do that and retired for the night in our steaming tents. No, you dirty thing, steam from the fire.

Cost of accommodation - £20.00, Running Total per Person - £6.25           

Ae Videos! "The Edge" trail   Steve B    Keith    SteveW&Chris    Jay&Andy    Arthur    Arthur arrives at steve B's crash!       

Day Three - Monday 21st July 2008 - Fort William

Andy led us up the road through Glencoe Village then up though Fort William, where we stopped to take a peep in Off Beat Bikes. Gollum managed to find a cheap pair of Shimano SPD shoes to replace the fatally injured LiDL ones he'd broken the day before. Then we rolled out the top alongside Loch Linnhe to it's peak and through FW to one of the many car parks bordering the trails, and that's where we left him, as the previous two day's worth of MTBing had left him very un-bike fit after half a year off them. He went for a short walk up a little hill around the corner. Now what was it's name? Ah, yes, the North Face of Ben Nevis! We four jumped onto the "Witches Trails" at the car park and proceeded to conquer the first section led by Steve W, which took us eventually to the Nevis Range Centre at the foot of the World Cup Downhill course and our virtual half way point. Once more we were riding in beautiful weather, and Keith was first to discover he'd have liked to be carrying more water than he was.

Now I must point out here that, between the five of us, we have planners, estimators, technicians, engineers, people leaders, programmers, project leaders, logical thinkers and practical experts BUT we were knackered by the trail signs at Fort Bill. They're CRAP! We must have spent half an hour circling the foot of the cable car where the trails all emerge before Keith eventually discovered what we'd been looking for, and only after we'd exhausted every other possibility.

So we ended up doing two trails - 'Ten under Ben' and the 'World Cup Loop', one after the other as they were fairly short for a total of about 18km. There wasn't anything particularly taxing here but they offered some nice swoopy singletrack with the odd technical challenge thrown in to satisfy most of our simple demands, as well as some straight, simplistic singletrack much less worthy than our Newcastle trails . I suppose our "close encounter" with One Man and His Dogs atop the last descent  was the funniest bit here. This "gentleman", around thirty, came swaggering up the trail to the high point while we were taking a snack break. He looked like Doctor Who, you know, the one with the funny hat and long coloured scarf. Except this one didn't have a hat. He had a hairy coat though, and beads, and seemed to be in a daze. Golly asked him " You're not going down there, are you?", pointing down at the series of switchbacks wending their way down the hillside. "No, man, I'm looking for the way up, man" he drawled again, rolling what looked like a long white pencil between his fingers. Then he stuck it in his mouth. There WAS no way up from there, by the way! Draw your own conclusion - we did, man.

He stood there glaring down at us as we studied the first tricky little rock chute and drop-off on foot, before one at a time, Jason, Steve and Golly took it in turns to jump off it, while Keith declined to save himself any damage. The run down that bermy blast was just a wee bit slower than it may have been as the previous injuries took their toll. But just before the finish his pleas for a speed-up soon saw the gaps open up as normal. It's a bit rough when you're in third place, running into the two in front, and have someone shouting at you to go quicker! We came back to the Nevis Range Centre for a coffee stop where there was plenty of activity to hold our attention, and where, apparently, some choice language caused a few outsiders to move away from our table. Can't say who the guilty party was, but he may be a skinny git who's only half human and shot to fame in "Lord of the Rings".

Coffee cups dredged, it was time to head back as we took the direct fireroad route to the van. On went the bikes and on went half the forest. Eh? "What the hell are you lot doing?" squawked Gollum to the others as he couldn't help but notice they were stacking small trees on top of the bikes! If he'd done owt like that to their precious mounts there's have been hell to pay! "Firewood" came the swift retort. That's because there were so many fires burning the night before at the camp site that there was no more timber available so we'd been trying for hours to get wet logs to burn with not much success. Keith was a little dubious about the local fuzz not being enthused by  a small forest travelling though the Glen, so he only loaded a few twiglets.

We nipped into Fort William on the way back and parked our logging truck in Morrison's car park while we shopped for the evening meal. Thinking about what Keith had said earlier, I dunno how we didn't attract the long arm of the Na-Ni with a dirty great prefabricated bonfire hanging off the back of the Pukeup. Good job nobody lit it. Back amongst the Squirrels we dismounted the bikes and locked them to the rack for the night, then set about creating the best camp fire ever seen in Glencoe. The imported branches worked brilliantly and very soon we had a cosy orange glow to sit around, with by far the tallest flames of any on the site -

An our later, when it looked like dying down a bit, Steve and Golly took off in the van and returned some time later with branches sticking out of every orifice the van had - rear doors, side doors, front doors, windows, air vents. That also burned pretty violently to maintain our high energy output and shame the other tourists into submission. NMBC Rules. We even got our sixth member, a very docile 2 foot by 9 inch diameter log to start burning at attempt number two once we'd created some proper hot embers. That's "embers", not what you thought. It was only later, as we were about to leave the next day, that we discovered our 'log' had indeed been part of a tree sculpture. Oops. F N Geordies (yep, Stevie the Skipper is now officially adopted).

Leaving Glencoe with plenty of happy memories, particularly about the camp-fire shenanigans, we headed north this time with Steve at the wheel, and didn't he stall on the exit ramp of the site? Not a good thing to do if you want any peace while driving Morons Anonymous to their next gig.

Cost of accommodation - £20.00, Running Total per Person - £10.25

Fort Bill Videos!    Steve and Jason drop    Red Squirrel Camp    The Gathering - coming soon...

Day Four - Tuesday 22nd July 2008 - Glenbrittle Forest, Isle of Skye

The Road to the Isles was absolutely stunning, just as the ride through Glencoe had been. Must have taken dozens of pictures out the windows again. We'd left the Inverness road, the A82 at Invergarry and travelled up the fantastic A87 above Loch Garry, where Gollum's request for a rest halt proved most worthwhile. For it was here that we came across a real, down-to-earth Scottish Scotsman, resplendent in full regalia. Golly leapt out of the van and immediately asked if he could have a photograph. That was before he realised the geezer was doing this with tourists for a living!

Anyway, after a quick chinwag he discovered that the Scottie was married to a Blyth lass, so he engaged her in a short conversation aswell. Small world. Anyway, the lads started snapping away as the Gollum was led by the hand to the hillside to be serenaded by a magnificent rendition of "The Blaydon Races" on the Pipes! Christ! (sorry, more blasphemy, but that's to demonstrate how stunned I was). It was Andy's turned next but I must say he looks a little timid in this shot!

Not only was this a Close Encounter of the Weirdest Kind, but the bloke was, naturally, something of a historian and geographer, and he took the trouble to point down to the Loch in the distance and demonstrate how it was almost an exact image of the map of Scotland. Bloody hell (sorry again), it IS! Just look at the Loch behind.

We continued northwest, slagging off the driver, as you do, and eventually the bridge at the Kyle of Lochalsh came into view. Up to now we'd had another beautiful day to travel on, and the air con was being used to hold the hotheads down a wee bit. It wasn't until we'd crossed the bridge that Gollum asked Keith whereabouts the camp site was. "Portree, a bit further up the road" he replied. 34 blessed miles up the road! And by the time we'd travelled almost the full length of Skye, the weather had deteriorated somewhat, in fact it was crap. At last we got some of what we'd been expecting all week, but the forecasts had been well off, and we'd had a great few days up to now.

It was cameras at the ready once more as the foreboding Red Cuillins loomed high, dark and shrouded in mist over the road up the east side of the island. Eventually, after what seemed an age, we arrived in the hotbed of the Highlands - 42 houses and a sprinkling of shops. We stopped at the Co-op (hooray!) and piled in to replenish supplies and stock up for the evening meal. The sun popped out again for a while, but ten minutes later up at Torvaig camp Site, Paul McCartney's mist rolled in from the sea again, and it was damp and windy as the tents were erected.

We'd come here to ride, so that was our first priority, although Andy chose to sit it out again with his "problem" persisting. He spent the day playing canny in his tent. The other four toured down the road in heavy mist around 5:00pm and managed to find the local bike shop. Going inside to quiz the owner, Gollum didn't quite get the reaction he'd hoped for as visitors to Skye, but the bloke inside, who was bust re-cabling the gears on a hybrid bike, said he'd show us where the best trails were on his map. He seemed fond of the word 'ordinance' and kept talking about us using our map to find these tracks. We didn't have a map, of course, but didn't tell him that. Anyway, he pointed out this forest about 10 miles south west of Portree and said the trails there were "great fun".

We left the shop and began to discuss what to do outside. Wandering back up to the main road, the Gollum noticed the Tourist Information Centre and headed straight for it, hopefully to find some more trail info inside. Looking around the shelves, there was nothing on display, so he approached the counter to ask one of the three ladies in the shop for their thoughts. He emerged a few minutes later with eyes glazed over, and urged Steve to get himself in there and take a look behind the counter. He came out with a similar look. You, my friends, are all too young to be told why, so there!

Drawing another blank, we voted democratically and headed back up the long drag to the camp site where we loaded the bikes onto the van and drove to Glenbrittle Forest. It took us quite a while to get there, in the middle of nowhere, in the fog and drizzle and on a skinny road with passing places. We parked up at the gate across the forest road and unloaded the bikes in a somewhat subdued atmosphere, before heading off up the trail into what looked like a great setting for Return of the Hounds of the Baskervilles. Spooky. Off to the right as we entered, Gollum spotted a soil bank off the side of the trail and challenged his three young colleagues to a spot of berm bashing. Only Stevie took up the call, and proceeded to leap from the edge of the fireroad onto this super-smooth looking bank side. It was super smooth from a distance, but not when his tyres made contact, and he came down like a ton of sh@t, once more damaging that well-battered right arm in the process, and leaving yet another trail of blood through the Scottish wilderness.

We rode on in silence, apart from the continuous mutterings form the area around Keith's lips which suggested this wasn't our best ride ever. He was right, of course, but here we were, so we just had to bear it. The only bright spots were a couple of very fast descents on the gravel. About half way around the 10k loop, Keith managed to burst his rear tyre, but good old Stan's No-Tubes performed it's magic admirably and plugged the hole not once, but twice, allowing us to continue unabated. At least there was a great sea loch landscape to view on the far side, and we stopped there to take it in for a while. Time to begin the climb back out. Luckily this was constructed with large-scale switchbacks so the sting was taken out of what would have been a savage climb. We criss-crossed a small but very dramatic waterfall as we made our way back up to the top of the forest again, and it was worthy of a few photographs.

We were back at the van within a few hours, it being fairly later by now, and we returned to the site for tupper around 8:30pm. Didn't take long for the stoves to be lit and we gathered round for a hot cuppa. All except Keith and Steve who decided to try out the Indian Restaurant they'd spotted, so Golly gave them a lift down the mile-and-a-half to the town centre and returned for his camp coffee. The remaining three had retired for the night, or almost, by 11:15pm when the two wanderers returned on foot, happy with their spicy meals.

Quiz Question - how many bike shops on Skye have a useful proprietor?

Quiz Question - how many MTB trails does Skye have?

Quiz Question - how many sunny days a year does Skye have?

Cost of accommodation - £20.00, Running Total per Person - £14.25

On the Road Videos!    Glengarry Piper

Day Five - Wednesday 23rd July 2008 - Laggan Wolftrax, Drumgask

We rose once more by GollyAlarm™ at 07:30 to pack up and prepare for the day's ride. Once again the dialogue en route was at best hysterical, at worst, unprintable, but always entertaining, and everyone became the object of the others' attentions somewhere along the way. Our next target was Invernahavon camp site between Kingussie and Dalwhinnie, and goodness knows who drove this stint, but someone must have. I know Andy was itching to, but we thought it best to have a driver who didn't need to do that while he was driving. It must have been around midday or just before when we found it after a slight detour, but the camp reception was closed until 4:00pm. So we picked ourselves a nice pitch and threw the tents up, once more enjoying a fabulous day in the sun. Once the camp was established we hit the road again with bikes re-attached and set off to find the trails.

Arriving at Laggan Wolftrax  we set about feeling our way around the place, as the first MidAirCrisis/NMBC visitors to this neck of the woods. Except we didn't just feel our way, we blasted it as we normally do. And once again we suffered another casualty. This time it was Keith who more-or-less copied Jason's and Stevie's injuries apart from the thigh damage, when he went over the bars at the foot of a steep rock drop. Fortunately he was almost static when it happened, but those damned rocks still hurt plenty, and his blood sure looked the same colour as the other's had. If you think you're hard and you've done all the Stanes Black routes, you really need to get yourself here and see what dark black looks like. It's bl@@dy evil, just ask any of the five who made this trip! Here's some of Keith's damage, first glance.

While "Skippy" Steve waited for Keith to recover, the Gollum continued to drag Jason around the last kilometre of very gnarly rock gardens and dirty great drop-offs as fast as they could go. As we've come to expect, it was a case of "bu@@er me! What was that?" and massive grins at the bottom of the trail. The consensus was that if you slow down to look, you'll balls it up, so just go for it every time. That's how we completed this one. Andy actually skipped the final bit, diverting over to the Red which he described as "excellent", so he didn't lose out at all, and a drop of common sense is way superior to a drop of blood transfusion. When I think back, his grin was probably wider than ours, so happy was he to have sampled the Red Trail, and also survived another run in the saddle without further bruising to his nethers.

One other outstanding feature this place did have was the first we encountered after the initial fireroad climb. It was a very steep drop down a slab of rock, much like Dalbeattie's famous "Slab" but maybe a bit steeper and ten feet longer. Jason was the keenest to try it after Gollum had quacked out, and he did so quite comfortably after a peep over the edge. Obviously that was the signal to Skippy to do it aswell, and that's exactly what he did. Waiting below with the cameras, Andy, Keith and Golly just dismissed it all as lunacy as the latter led off to continue the singletrack loop. This was narrow but flowing, with plenty of trackside lumps of rock to hold your concentration and a few dodgy rock gardens for good measure as well as plenty of opportunity to get airborne.

We completed one loop and ended up back at the rock slab again (Aires Rock) and this time the Gollum decided he couldn't face the pistol-taking from Jason back in the van, so he took himself up to the top of the fearsome drop and, guided into position by Steve, managed to get down the thing reasonably well. Obstacles like this are really weird, the way they can seem almost un-doable when you walk up to them, but when you're half way down you wonder what the fuss was about. Apart from that, we'd soon be completing a whole series of much more dangerous descents around the rest of the Black route without even pausing!

The weather continued to be fantastic, very warm in the saddle, and although the ride had been breathtaking it was good to get off the bikes and cool off at the finish. We loaded up the bikes in the afternoon sun and had a nice relaxing run back to the tents and the usual carry-on with barbecues. Stevie managed to dispose of pounds and pounds worth of washing machine hire, and we reckon he just has a fetish for watching stuff slop about in soapy water. Again we called the Committee together around the barby to discuss plans for Day 7. We had intended to fit in Drumlanrig Castle somewhere along the way, either on the way up or Vicky, as only Jason and Andy had done any of it. However, we decided there may be more payback from either Glentress or Innerleithen, especially if we hit rain as we'd expected all week. So once we'd decided that, the plan developed into our first and only 2-trails-in-a-day, with Glentress Red first followed by Innerleithen XC just a few miles further on planned for the Grand Finale.

Quiz Question - which scrawny humanoid plugged the fridge and the laptop into the cigar lighter at the same time

which leads me nicely to....

Quiz Question - how many Sparkies does it take to change a blown fuse?

Quiz Question - What do you get when you put Skippy on a hot trail?

Cost of accommodation - £29.42, Running Total per Person - £20.13

Day Six - Thursday 24th July 2008 - Carron Valley, Selkirk

Once more the Old Cock crowed at 7:30am after his shower and the Crappy Hampers^® of MidAirCrisis rose from their slumbers, or in Stevie's case, was dragged from them. Again. I suppose the baby of the family should have the longest sleep.

We headed for the village of Fintry, which is in the middle of nowhere, somewhere above Stirling and between Glasgow and Edinburgh in search of a camp site. As has become the norm, Gollum and Steve were nominated to do the talking as we pulled into a pub car park. The pair went inside to enquire were the local facilities might be. The manageress pointed out the only site she knew of and we were on our way out the door when she chased after Golly. Why? Honest, I never touched her! It transpired that the very pleasant woman simply wanted to offer us the use of their vacant lot behind the pub, which she said we could camp on for free if we were stuck! What an offer! We thanked her profusely after making sure we both took a good long look at her first, and tripped outside to tell the others. Start of another Gollum Fantasy.

A few minutes and miles later we coasted into the very exclusive Balgair Castle Caravan Park where Skippy and Golly entered the lavish Reception cabin to get us booked in for the night. It wasn't long before Steve had vanished and rejoined the group outside in the truck, leaving Gollum inside with the dubiously-sexed reception person. Why? Because as soon as the nice man had chirped "£19.95 per pitch" (yep, a hundred squid) and "nice plot by the river" (midge swamp), Stevie had already made his mind up. That left the Old One to figure out a tidy retreat plan, which he did by telling the fruit we'd be back after finding somewhere to eat and asking for his phone number! Couldn't get outa there fast enough!

Back we toured to the pub, and a brilliant last night with a very distinctive theme. When we entered this little township, it was pretty quiet. There were people milling around inside the pub and in the beer garden out back, but it felt strangely subdued, apart from the Manageress, who was full of chat. Jason had tried to creep in under the radar resplendent in his fairly loud Celtic Gold away strip, but the notice on the pub door clearly stated "No Football Colours". He sneaked in anyway wearing his hoody over the top, but by the time Skippy and Golly had loosened up the Manageress a bit more, she disappeared and brought Jay a nice tee-shirt to put on after forcing herself to ask us why Jay had rivers of sweat belting out of his forehead! What service! We repaid the gesture by hovering in the bar for some light refreshment, and Golly crawled a bit more by asking if we could book a table for the evening meal. She said that wasn't necessary, and that we'd be "taken care of". Ooh, err. Then we went out back and proceeded to erect our encampment, as far away from the back fence as possible as Keith seemed a bit nervous of the locals, whereas Golly had planned to camp right next to the Beer Garden on a nice flat stretch of chicken-sh@t covered grass.

Mid afternoon and time to get a move on, with the Carron Valley Trails just back down the road a mile or ten. We cruised alongside the Carron Reservoir for a while until we reached the car park. There's no Visitor Centre here, it's too remote and not too popular, but there's plenty of space to park and have picnics, and it's a very pleasant spot. There were actually more bikers there than we'd seen at most of the other places, so it must have some appeal, and of course we were here following recommendations, it wasn't a shot in the dark. Wish I hadn't used that phrase - see why a bit later.

Keith shot away on the initial fireroad climb, which was very gentle unlike most others. He got about a hundred metres ahead of us and wasn't looking back at all, so the other four of us tried to pull his plonker by hiding in the trees by the side of the road. It would have worked a treat with most people, but after what seemed an eternity wafting midges away, there was no sign of him returning, so we reluctantly started pedalling again to catch him. We caught sight of him just around a right hander, and pretended to be struggling up the very slight bank in an attempt to make him feel superhuman. Still no reaction from Keith when the Gollum asked him how he'd got up there so easily! Ah well, not every great plot comes to fruition.

Suddenly it was singletrack time, and the short trails here didn't disappoint. There were two loops here, an upper and a lower so we joined them together. There was some great stuff amongst it with a bit of most of the Seven Stanes on a slightly smaller scale. So we did get another decent ride on previously unexplored turf, and it was well worth the visit. The last section in particular was out in the open but obviously modelled on Ae or Spooky Wood, with the host of super-fast berms and take-offs just flowing into each other superbly. In fact we tried to loop back and do it a second time but ran out of trail at a private cottage and had to give it up. Just as well, as we didn't want to miss last call for evening meal, assuming our stuff was still intact back at the boozer. We reminisced for a while with a local rider who was a nice lad to talk to, but unfortunately had his mutt running around the trail with him, so he gets relegated to the rank of arsehole, sorry. I seem to recall this was also the place where we almost ran into a couple having a nice walk up the bike trail against the flow of traffic.

We got back to Fintry at 5 or 6 ish, dragged the bikes into our camping area and locked them up, then prepared for our only mass evening out. Just after we'd sorted the bikes, the Manager came out to assure us that we needn't lock then up at all "I f*****g guarantee nay b@st@rd will touch ya bikes here, pal". Somehow, we were sure he was right, and it worried us a wee bit more. Who was this smallish chap who seemed scared of nothing and no-one? We went into the bar first to get ourselves a drink, then after teasing Jason with a baby's high chair at our table, moved outside to sit in the sun, and the fun really started. Everything that happened had a suspicious looking motive. Everyone who came near fell foul of our acute spatial awareness. People out there moved away from us and the staring began. A little kid running about the place seemed to be spying on us. A bunch of stocky lads came out and began to saw down the trees and bushes separating our tents from the beer garden fence, leaving our little enclave on display to the whole pub population. Why? Every window in the place now looked down on our encampment which had been totally secluded before the clearout. Why? Worse than that, they were using a chainsaw. We all felt a chill run down our spineless backs. The Gollum kept a close eye on little Damien, just in case. I'm sure his eyes were glowing red.

The meal was served and it was big and tasted nice. We all just ate it, forgetting to test every morsel on a chicken first. We got away with it for now. The night wore on and we moved back inside where after a short spell at a table, we commandeered two big sofas in front of the Rangers v Hibs match. 5 - nil Rangers, and not very nice to watch. Around 10.15 Jason declared it was time to retire for the night to prepare for our last day of freedom. Golly followed him out the back into "our" field, only to find that he was now eying up an oil drum which had obviously been used as a fire many times before. Seconds later he was gathering bits of wood and tipping it into the drum, declaring "let's have a fire"! So the alco pops had obviously started to work, and quite apart from going straight to bed, we were all treat to a night around a burning oil drum with Jason leading the log collections.

He seemed to be having trouble getting the thing to light, but mysteriously, or deviously, the Manager of the place arrived on the scene with some paper and other stuff. He and Jay were soon locked in mind-numbingly boring conversation about fire-lighting as the flames began to shoot out the top of our fireplace. It got dark, aided by the big, black mountain looming over the back of our camp. The square tower on the church next door had Keith whispering how spooky the place looked. Bats circled the fire and brushed our heads as they flew around madly. We all covered each others backs expecting an imminent attack, and the fire was almost ready to cook on! And we were sure that we were to be the main course. Eventually, we all backed up to our tents some time after midnight, and plucked up the courage to turn in. At least one member of our party kept half an eye on the shadows crossing the sides of his tent until sunup! G'nite, John Boy!

Cost of accommodation - £0.00, Final Total per Person - £20.13

Day Seven - Friday 26th July 2008 - Innerleithen

We had something like a 65 mile drive with Jay back in the toilet seat, once more suffering the constant barrage of "sh@t driver" and similar slogans. We stopped at services on the M74 for our final brunch halt before trundling down through Stirling and Peebles to Innerleithen. Hitting Peebles first as we did gave us the unenviable, and dare I say it, almost blasphemous task of actually driving PAST the Gates to Heaven, alias Glentress, and every pair of eyes in the van turned left to stare at the entrance as we drove past it. Somehow Jason stayed on the road for once. A few minutes later we became the only bods in the Innerleithen car park after a squad of Belgians left in their transit. We whipped the bikes off and after trying to sicken everyone with his verdict of how horrible this initial climb is, Golly led off up the Red Trail for a couple of hours of sheer magic. But first, the Walk! Actually I think I was the only one pushing up the initial drag, taking the straight but vertical route while the others rode the switchbacks with Jason and Stevie out front.

We stopped at the head of that dreaded hillside in the shade of the trees, before resuming to tackle the remaining contours up to Minch Moor. Once up there you've conquered most of the savage climbs and can set about enjoying the payback. Like most of the other trails in the Seven Stanes, this one hasn't remained stationary either, and there are more singletrack thrills to be had, together with a fantastic, fast bypass to the awful old Plora Crags rock garden which was about a kilometre long. It was atop this section that Steve managed to puncture on a hard landing, obviously ignoring Gollum's pleas to take it a bit easier on the final day. To enable that, Golly had quite sensibly volunteered to lead off the top all the way through the Freeride trails and down the infamous Caddon Bank in order to "set a sensible pace". All was well until Stevie decided to attack the Gollum's Trek half way down, and came a nasty cropper yet again! This time he really did succeed in squeezing some rock hard Scottish landscape under the skin of his right arm and elbow, it's third ground attack in six days. Cleaning it up back at sea level, the Gollum tried to persuade Steve to visit the local A and E at Peebles, where there would surely be a warm reception for yet another idiot mountain biker (not!). He declined, promising to get a Tetanus jab once he'd got home.

So that was that, only the home journey left, with Golly hiding the ignition key in his sock and forgetting where he'd put it until he thought a midge had got his ankle bone and the lads had turned the van inside out looking for it! He'd stashed it there to ensure he got the last stint in order to get the party home safely, regardless of the shower of abuse from every other seat in the bus.

Just for info , Jason filled the GollyMobile's tank before we set off at ASDA next to Gollum's Cave, and again he paid for that mammoth double-fillup at Morrisons in Fort William. Total cost around £170 if I remember vaguely correctly, and the thing was just about dry when we got home. I paid him my share on Monday night, 29th July, so I'll leave this open ended for any more contributions...

Scene out the window!

AS FAR AS WE KNOW, NO SMUT LEFT THE CONFINES OF OUR MOBILE PUB and whenever we passed a lady we wound all the windows down, stuck our goggle-eyed heads out and showered her with the utmost respect. Examples that may have been subject to adulation include -

Quiz Answers (in totally randomized order - go figure)

 - a Blood(y) Clot

 - chaffing

Here are some of the highlights for Keith -

1) Kirroughtree.  Shoulder charging the tree at the end of the course! Seeing Chris getting it sideways lots

2) Ae. Coming down the switch backs towards the river, the very deep one I braked in but the ground went away under me, nearly a crash but I kept it upright. Helping the Canadian bloke to sort his bike after chasing him down the downhill from the top, I was probably the reason his bike was broken lol.

3) The new bit at Ae we all did, just managing to get my extremely wide monkey lite bars through them trees, Following a Gollum down the next downhill and getting mesmerised by the tree stump and nearly hitting it right on the edge of that cliff!

4) Ae, duelling with Chris around the full trail having some great laughs, watching him bounce off rocks and getting it very sideways, something he then witnessed me doing 

5) Skye………Watching the milky fountain coming out of my back wheel! Belting it up the last big hill because I was pee-ed off 

6) Wolftrax, following Steve down the sweeping downhill’s was fantastic fun. Crashing on the black and swearing lots after going over the bars and landing on the rocks. My camelback saving my back from the rock I was lying on top of.

7) Inner, what can I say, Jason jumping off a rock and going sideways was tricky, nearly rear ending him as he slowed to go down a rock drop off.

And of course the many many funny incidents in the car!

Gollum's favourite bits and observations -

Being here with this crew, just fantastic, guts still aching from laughter a week later.

The Chase, with Jason as the rabbit until he crashed.

Hammering after Stevie B, flat out on almost every trail. Until I died. Or he crashed. He's a nutter.

The Piper in Glengarry. He's also a nutter.

The stunningly beautiful scenery of the Highlands.

Watching Andy get out of his taxi at Red Squirrel after conquering Big Ben and "do the John Wayne" to the tents - hilarious!

The stunningly beautiful girl in the Tourist Information Centre at Portree on Skye.

The ridiculously pieced-together "adventure" we had behind the boozer in Fintry - unbelievably funny.

Either 1) There ain't enough flesh on a Gollum for midges to bother with or 2) Avon Skin So Soft really does keep the little buggers at bay. And we sure got through plenty of it. Apart from it's possible defensive role, it makes you smell good enough to eat. Ask the pub dwellers of Fintry!

And this signpost -