Bikepacking and Bothies in the Scottish Borders
Linking together bikepacking and bothies in the Scottish borders has been on my hit list for some time. Like most, I’ve always driven straight past the Scottish borders in search of adventure in the highlands. I mean it’s not exactly on the way to anywhere is it! Rumour has it, the gravel trails of Kielder forest and the surrounding areas are legendary. With the appeal of dark, starry skies and the lure of a comforting bothy, I decided a weekend in this part of the UK was needed.
Multi day missions have been my thing this year, along with my ever increasing obsession with cycling. I’ve been trying to explore new locations and new routes all summer, the Scottish borders was another one for the collection.
Arriving somewhere new can always be a bit daunting, especially never having slept in a bothy before. That’s all part of the fun though I guess, that nervous feeling you can only get by doing something for the first time. I would describe it as nervousness… but perhaps anticipation, with a bit of anxiety would be better. What if things went wrong? I’ve learnt to shut this feeling out and just commit to doing things, I don’t allow myself to stop for fear of this anxiety getting the better of me.
I decided I would follow the Dirty Reiver route, as a GPX file was available. The 200km loop passed both Flittingford and Wainhope bothy – well, with some improvisation and imagination it does.
Friday got off to a bad start. Having tried to fit a new tubeless tyre the previous night, ahead of this gravel epic. Schwalbe brand the G-One as ‘tubeless easy’ – you might want to re-think that marketing ploy guys. The less said about fitting tubeless the better – thanks MTB Monster for sorting me out!
This fiasco meant I arrived too late on Friday night to be arsed setting off into the dark hunting out a bothy. Instead I decided a pub stop was far been a better use of my Friday evening – of course, the pub is never a bad idea. Bikepacking and bothies in the Scottish borders could wait.
Friday night showed me why Kielder has dark sky status. I was lucky enough to witness a magical night sky that night. Zero light pollution over the forest gave way to spectacular views of the milky way and a gazillion trillion stars. September is mild month on the damp UK calendar. I was able to sit on the van step, guzzle a few ales and just admire this beautiful world we lucky to live in – poignant on the day of the climate strike.
I don’t feel as bad driving all over the UK at weekend, considering I cycle to work the remaining 4 days in the week & just about everywhere else in between.
Anyway, Kielder gravel. Yeah it is ace! I loaded my bike and apidura expedition packs with bare essentials for a one-night bothy stay. The reality of which meant I took eventing bar a tent! Enough food to keep me going for two days and a bottle of wine for company in the bothy.
I set out from Kielder not knowing what to expect really. The thing I like most about gravel riding is the unpredictably. It isn’t graded. You’re riding terrain which isn’t surfaced. You might get super smooth gravel where you can really fly, or that horrible grassy/rocky stuff which really is a nightmare! Bikepacking and bothies in the Scottish borders covered every type of terrain imaginable.
Being on a gravel, drop bar adventure bike with 35mm tyres, I have to be pretty careful when carrying bikepacking kit. It’s a capable bike, but can be pretty loose when the terrain gets tougher.
I’m used to a 160mm full suss enduro bike, which doesn’t even register obstacles! Gravel riding certainly comes as a challenge to me.
Following the route, I headed deeper into the forest. People were few and far between. Instead, deer and other wildlife became prevalent. The air was fresh, but moist. Even on a fine autumn afternoon, the air had a lingering dampness about it.
I found my rhythm and the miles started falling away. This is the best bit about distance cycling – you forget the initial doubts, you become focussed on the task in hand. You forget life worries and other problems, focussing only on the getting to the destination. It’s a wonderful combination of body and mind in harmony.
Solo and self-sufficient ITT type events are really starting to appeal to me. I wanted to get a feel for riding a 200km route where I only have myself to sort things out. I wanted to find out if I actually liked that element of a challenge.
One thousand miles across the alps was a challenge, but it was hardly solo, I saw a lot of folk on that route. This one, I barely saw a soul.
The Scottish borders is a tranquil and sparse part of the UK. Phone signal is a rarity. It’s a far away world from the Lake District. I feel intrigued by possibility here. I also hear about ace gravel riding in the Tweed valley. The Great North Trail has just been unveiled too. Is the UK starting to become a gravel haven? I feel like I’m just scratching the surface here.
After 8 hours of riding 120km over gravel, I found Wainhope bothy. My home for the evening. Approaching with caution as if it were some haunted building. A building in the middle of nowhere, no idea if I was alone or not – the kind of place inhibition tells you to stay away from. It can be a bit daunting!
I found the bothy completely deserted – much like the rest of the forest that day. The bothy is a place of resource. A comforting shelter, whose complete basics can only be appreciated by someone exhausted from a day out. I set about chopping up some logs, waiting for the sunset.
With no phone signal, there really isn’t a lot to do in a bothy. I guess that’s the solace so many seek. A hearth, a drink and my notepad to document my thoughts. I guess with this type of solemn adventure, bikepacking and bothies in the Scottish borders, you have to be comfortable in your own company.
There’s often something left behind from someone else that will serve a purpose. For example, candles – there’s no electric lighting in the bothy. Fairy liquid – godsend. Wood supply – did my bit a chopped a few logs down to fit the burner. Best of all, a sharp pokey device which I used to get into the bottle of wine I brought. (silly me forgot a corkscrew!)
The bottle had been sat in my van far ages, I forget who even put it there – completely forgetting it was a cork. It was cheap French chateau de shite. But it was delightful, with my feet warming by the fire. I chain poked my way around the cork and forced it into the bottle – improvisation at its finest. I bet whoever left that device here never though it would be used to hack it into a bottle of wine! Just as I hope the tape I’m leaving will be of use to someone in their hour of need – whatever purpose it may serve.
It goes without saying you should do the same. I left my electrical insulating tape. Not much, but someone will find a use for it.
Bedding down for my first night in the bothy was cool. I’d made this basic stone hut my home for the night. I had no idea what to expect other than a roof over my head. Yet I was fed, I was toasty with the burner still going and I was merry after a bottle of vino. It was a therapeutic experience. Amongst the forest, cut off from the world, appreciating the tranquillity of my surroundings.
Quite simply I was excited about another day’s riding in the forest. I awoke to stunning pink cloud that morning, only before realising I was still tired and wanted more sleep. Not a soul about to tell me otherwise, headed straight back to bed for a few more hours – only to awake again to a drizzle tapping the glass windows.
With the kettle boiling and the smell of coffee filling the bothy, I set about organising my kit for what was to be a damp day of bikepacking and bothies in the Scottish borders. From a bothy in the middle of nowhere, there are no shortcuts back. It was liberating to set off into the rain. I had kit to deal with it, so it was no problem.
Sunday required another 80km of gravel riding to complete the loop. Once more, it was a pleasant ride, with naught but the sounds of the forest as I cut my way through the low mist. At one with my thoughts of getting the route done, the forest roads eventually led me down to the shores of Kielder water. A vast expanse. From there the route back was simple, fast and smooth gravel back to trail hub – and of course a pub lunch!
The Anglers Arms (well the only pub in Kielder) came as a welcome relief, given the rain had gotten somewhat heavier by early afternoon.
Satisfied with my efforts over the 2 days and even more delighted about the success of my first bothy night, I headed home. Heading home is never a bad thing, not when you’ve gotten your fix and feel fulfilled. Bikepacking and bothies in the Scottish borders certainly gave me that. I can’t wait to return, to continue exploring this tranquil and remote part of the UK.
