RSF - The Off Road Cycling Club

The Adventure Starts Here

2008

“A bicycle ride around the world begins with a single pedal stroke.” — Scott Stoll, US author and cyclist BikeRadar / Immediate Media

 

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We’d had a notion to find a route into Knoydart, that remote peninsula on Scotland’s west coast, for a good number of years. There are no roads into it, though there is a small, but thriving, community at Inverie, which can be reached by boat from Mallaig. That is the easy option, of course, but we don’t do that... ...instead, we find ourselves one morning at the head of Loch Hourn - Kinloch Houm, after a fairly lengthy drive from Invergarry in the Great Glen. The road ends here. There’s a farm and the owner has clearly spotted the potential to create a small parking area and charge a modest sum to leave your car there
The day started well with a brightness from the north. It had rained persistently on canvas in the night, but normal light fluffy clouds now surrounded the high snow clad peaks. The sandy campsite was thankfully not that dusty now. Occasional clusters of rag-dressed Bihari road workers were strolling to their day’s work place, in advance of hot, toxic tar fumes their air would be clean and fresh. We breakfasted on porridge with all the usual additions, fruit, nuts honey, and then broke camp in an optimistic mood, feeling fit.
After many years of reading gruelling reports in The Journal my first Rough- Stuff Fellowship ride began not with a baptism of fire but with a pot of tea in the Tudor Rose cafe, Westerham. My husband Steve and I arrived half an hour early and were invited by Charlie to join him at his table where he was already enjoying a full English breakfast. If this sustainance was par for the course I hoped I would survive on my 50gm of muesli; food is not my forte first thing in the morning so I couldn’t even contemplate the toast so generously offered around the table by Alec
Having hauled my fully laden bicycle up the rock strewn 1 in 3 gradient from Soar y Mynydd on the eastern approach to Ty’n-y-Comel hostel I thought I had arrived at the wrong place as a committee meeting of which turned out to be the Elenydd Wilderness Trust was in progress. Just as well it was OK as dusk had turned pitch black. It proved to be a splendid place from which to explore the infinite number of rough tracks and byways of the upper Tywi Valley.
Look carefully and in the distance a trackway is faintly discernable on the far side of a sphagnum moss bog (Aren't they always). Throw caution to the wind and go for it. We had tremendous fun bog riding and found that a gung ho approach was the answer and were stunned as to what we could ride over without sinking. The technique is to launch in and as the front wheel starts to sink lean back and lift and give it as much welly as you can muster. This develops into a see sawing motion that once you have the hang of is brilliant fun.
George said he’d always wanted to be one of those motor-show models sprawled elegantly across the bonnet of a car. Fortunately it was a quick trip to the bike shop for a free new wheel, courtesy of the apologetic driver, and he was soon on his way again. That there was more extensive damage only became apparent later. Thus George and Reg met in Kirriemuir rather later than planned and the two riders were soon winging north via the Capel Mounth and Balmoral tracks. On these well-used but steep and stony tracks Reg suffered a puncture and George took several dives into the heather

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