Scotland - The Mounth Road
by Pat Lloyd
Scotland in August does not normally receive a visit from the Lloyds for if there is one midge in the area it immediately gives a shriek of joy and homes in on Fred, but armed with a small digital clock which had a device emitting the sound of the male mosquito and which hopefully also deterred midges we headed north to spend the first week of August at the Forfar Rides. We had an excellent week cycling around the Angus lanes, our only rough-stuff being The Ministers Road leading from near the church in Glen Prosen and climbing on a mostly rideable track over the hill to Glen Clova.
The second week found us riding west to Edzell to the campsite that we had stayed at in previous years and next morning we once again made our way up Glen Esk hoping that it would be third time lucky for morning coffee at The Retreat. Not so, it was the right day but the wrong time as it didn't open until 12 o'clock, never mind, the post office and shop at Tarfside did excellent bacon buns - or it had done, we now found that it had closed down the previous year, so it was our own biscuits which provided our elevenses outside the toilets at Tarfside.
Eleven-fifteen saw us riding up the glen to where the road ended at a car park with an information board and map showing the tracks which were open to the public. As neither of us had been so far up the valley before we spent some time reading the potted history of what there was to see. A Scottish Rights of Way Society sigupost directed us up a lane to the right to where there was a guest house. As we approached the gate four lads on mountain bikes were coming through who must have had an early start to the day as they had no baggage with them.
We were able to ride along a good track up the glen with the river on our left and it was mostly rideable to where we could see the Queen's Well. We walked over to inspect the very ornate structure inscribed with the words-
"Rest traveller on this lonely green and drink and pray for Scotland's Queen."
Apparently it was erected over a spring from where the Prince Consort and various members of Queen Victoria's party had stopped to drink the water. If it was as clogged up with weed then as it is now it is hardly surprising that he died of typhoid a few weeks later. A couple of elderly walkers said that they had been coming for forty years and it had gradually got worse, they had brought a cup with them in case it had been cleaned up but decided not to risk a drink.
We had passed several notices by the river telling us that money was being spent on repairing the banks which had collapsed causing silting and destroying the spawning places of the salmon. It's a pity they couldn't spare a bit of the cash for cleaning up the well.
We were able to ride as far as Glen Mark cottage which seemed to be holiday accommodation as there was a Scottish Tourist Board sign in the window but from here we had a hard push up as, although the path was wide and well defined, it had recently been repaired with loose rocks and gravel.
The sky had been overcast all morning and as we reached the bend above the Ladder Burn the first drops of rain fell so it was on with the Pertex jackets creating ideal conditions for the clouds of midges which pounced the minute we stopped to wipe the perspiration from our faces.
Lunch was taken at the double, the midges saw to that and there was no more stopping until we reached the cairn where the Mount Keen track went off to the right, it having taken us two hours from leaving the Queen's Well car park. Our map showed the track that we wanted as going straight ahead and as there was a well defined double liner in front of us this was obviously ours. After about a quarter of a mile we decided that we were getting too far to the left and dropping into a shallow valley when we should have still been climbing. I back-tracked to the cairn and took the Mount Keen path but Fred decided to go cross country and headed off into the heather. I seemed to walk quite a way up the track and was beginning to think that I was about to bag my first Munro by climbing Mount Keen when I spotted a narrow path on the left with bike tyre marks probably made by the cyclists we had seen earlier. Fred had vanished into the mist so I kept going hoping to spot him as I got higher and sure enough he appeared over the horizon rather annoyed as he had been shouting to me that he had found a path going towards some shooting butts, however once he saw the bike tracks he realised that I was on the correct route.
From here we were able to ride short stretches but as it was only about 18 inches wide it was hardly surprising that I took a toss into the heather and added another bruise to the collection. When we saw the track coming down from Mount Keen it was decision time for our track had become a two liner but seemed to veer off to the left so we decided to make our way across to where we could see some walkers as they appeared to be going in the right direction. It was a horrible path, steep and full of rocks, hard on us and on the bikes as they crashed from boulder to boulder. The two tracks eventually met and it became worse for the repairing gang had been here too, using earth moving equipment to remove the surface of the track leaving wet slippy soil ready for hard core to be laid.
We finally reached the river in the valley at a ford with a wooden bridge alongside and from here it was magic as the next seven miles was downhill and all ridable. We passed one house marked on the map as Etnach which seemed to be occupied and then the halfway hut, a good stopping place if someone hadn't left the doors and windows open for the midges.
Some children on mountain bikes made us think that civilisation was approaching but we still had some way to go. An ornate bridge crossed the river with a sign for the green route but we kept to our side of the water and soon were facing a fairly stiff climb up past Glen Tanar House. A small loch nearby had a hardy soul fishing seemingly impervious to the midges.
Once past the house we hit tarmac and zoomed downhill past a forestry visitor centre to join the B976 and make a right turn for Aboyne and what was now an Indian restaurant. Replete we continued to the campsite at Tarland to anoint the various cuts and bruises collected after a pretty strenuous 15 miles of roughstuff.It had taken us 5 hours from the car park in Glen Esk to where we crossed the bridge at the head of Glen Tanar. Incidently don't bother buying the clock, Fred still got bitten as the midges obviously knew a good thing when they saw it.
The map used was OS 44 Ballater.
(this article first appeared in the March 2001 RSF Journal)