Schiehallion, Loch Tummel, Snow and Tired Legs

Last night, I lay in bed planning various possible adventures to get out of Edinburgh. Scanning through maps and timetables, I decided that a bike ride, rather than a walk, would be the best thing to get my mind and sense of self back all together.

I woke up and packed my bags, checked the maps one last time, dropped into the library to get an OS landranger map of the area, and set off to the station.

No sooner than I'd got on the train, I got a puncture. Thankfully I'd borrowed Sean's (dad's) puncture repair kit, so the first half an hour of the journey was spent in-between carriages getting dirty hands. Still, better on the train, when the only other thing I had planned was listening to music.

The patch held, and I was soon trundling though the streets of Pitlochry, looking for a supermarket to buy lunch. I found myself next to an outdoor shop, and bought a pair of gloves for my hands (colder up north!) and a spare inner-tube should sods law strike a second time.

They pointed me in the direction of the co-op, and I was soon stocked with food, and set out on my way.

I'd planned a route right up the southern bank of Loch Tummel, with the option of heading back to Pitlochry the other side of the loch, or via Aberfeldy to the south. Simple enough, keeping to the same road as it wound its way along the shore of the loch.

Simple enough on paper, on the 1:50,000 scale map, which didn't show the up - down nature of the road. I was soon groaning up steep hills just to whiz down the other side to meet another hill.

Then I got another puncture.

Once that was sorted, I made my not so merry way onwards, stressing that my tyres (perhaps 30 or so years old) had finally given up to the point where I would be getting punctures every metre or so. Though this thought was soon put to the back of my mind as the towering Schiehallion mountain appeared, covered from head to toe in glorious snow. the landscape opened up, and all around were huge expanses of white. I could almost feel the stress leaving my bones.

I reached the Aberfeldy junction, and my legs told me not to go any further than expected, so I took a right turn and headed to the head of the loch. Here, though, after lunch, I felt that I could made it further up the valley, and headed off the 6 miles to Kinloch Rannoch. I made it half way before my legs cried 'no more, no more'; and I turned around.

The 16 miles back to the train station were some of the longest I've had in a while. Legs so heavy that I could barely make it up even the slightest of gradients, and despite the incredible views across the loch, with Schiehallion reflected in its clear waters, I dared not stop to take a photo in case I didn't have the energy to get back up again. Luckily, Laura Jane was here in November, and I have to say, this was pretty much the view I had, too. Not so bad, eh?

I was soon shouting at myself, big roars of frustration as the hill kept coming. I was so alive in mind, so eager to keep going, go further, harder, that my failing body really was annoying. I passed a viewpoint called 'the queens view', letting out shout, much to the surprise of a photographer I hadn't seen. Here started a mile or so of glorious downhill, before I was on the uphill again. The shouts returned.

After what felt like days Pitlochry crept into view, and only half an hour to the next train. A pint, a snickers, and slept all the way back to Edinburgh. Once home, I looked up how far it was, and just over 38 miles. Felt like double.

This was the view as I turned around, looking to the south to Schiehallion, which stands 1083m high. I wanted to get up there. Soon, I hope.