Without a word being said we all glide to a halt in the middle of the loch and spin the boats to face the mountains and our trail so far. We must look quite a sight to the estate Land Rover that’s idling by a few hundred metres away on the shore, no doubt eyeing us up through binoculars.
Four oddballs in what would look, to the distant untrained eye, to be kiddies paddling pools with mountain bikes strapped on top, bobbing around in the middle of a usually deserted body of water in the middle of nowhere. Not caring a jot, we kick back and soak up the scenery and sheer majesty of the Scottish Highlands. Ben Alder stands off to the south, but other Munros sweep right round our horizon, all catching the last of the sun’s rays. It’s time to paddle on.
I’m here after a phone call with Andy of Scottish biking and boating outfit Back Country Boating: “We strap WHAT to the bike?”
“A boat? A boat we can put all our gear in and paddle around in? Like a canoe?”
My mistake was thinking of all the open canoes, huge inflatables or sea kayaks I had ever paddled in. Not one would I consider strapping to the front of my bike for anything other than a round of It’s a Knockout.
“And we are riding them over a mountain? Well. Okay. See you there.” Phone down, and cue dark thoughts of how I can duck out…
You can only imagine my relief on meeting Andy and Rob from Back Country Boating when they reveal the actual boats to be carried. Rolling up to an 8in diameter, 2 foot tube, weighing 2.5kg complete with paddles, this caper starts to look a lot more fun and a less like a special forces endurance exercise.
After a round of handshaking, map pointing and bike hefting, the boys set about kitting up my trusty hardtail mountain bike with some of their frame bags. I’m more and more impressed the more they hang on, through and over the frame. I see Thermarest sleeping mats disappearing into the main triangle space, food bags slotting in above them and sleeping bags stuffing into seat packs. Evening down jackets are eaten up by the main triangle again and a neat buoyancy aid goes into a stuff sack strapped to the front of the boat which is secured to the bars.
Everything is packed into dry bags first – a nod no doubt to my high chances of taking to the drink, and everything is secured not to rattle, rub or sway when we are riding. And get this, not one bit of it catches a leg or affects the steering too badly. It’s ingenious.
It is also heavy, which I feel on the first climb. Andy has chosen a route that will take us high over a mountain pass in the Highlands of Scotland, climbing to nearly 800m on estate tracks, then steep singletrack cutting into the wilds of the Ben Alder estate.
Home advantage
Andy and Rob are both riding hardtails with rigid non-suspension front forks but, and this will be key, huge 3.5in balloon front tyres. Scott, a fellow new boy to bike rafting, and I are both on normal tyres and suspension forks and begin to feel the disadvantage as we descend towards Loch Pattack. The boggy ground grabs our front wheels, careering Scott over the bars once and nearly sending me the same way too. We’re having a great laugh though, with soft landings on the moss. Meanwhile Andy and Rob float down on a bed of ballooned rubber, swishing in and out of the ruts and mud as if they aren’t there.
We meet at the bottom, where the Allt Cam river blocks our way. Not big enough to wield the boats yet, we skip across some handy boulders and rocks and join an estate track that descends to the shore of Loch Pattack, where our boat trip awaits.
Yes, we could pedal round the loch on a track, but where’s the fun in that when you’re carrying boats? We quickly drop the bikes and the boys fall into a well-practiced routine of preparing the boats. Drop it off the bars. Unclip the webbing straps and unroll the boat. Get the bagpipes out.
This last step is shouted out by Scott with a broad grin. He was on Back Country Boating’s introductory course to bike rafting a few weeks before and was familiar with the clever pump system that comes with the boats. Imagine a large bin bag with a nozzle on one end. Screw that nozzle into the boat and waft the opening to gather up a large bagful of air. Fold the top over, shove the inflated bag under your arm and squeeze it into the boat. Clever? Very. And yes, it looks like four guys on the shore of a loch playing the silent bagpipes.
The boats very quickly inflate, only needing a brief top up from lung power to render them rock-hard. After a few protective mats are draped over the bow, wheels are removed from the bikes and they are carefully (don’t let that pedal pin puncture the rubber!) placed and strapped down. The strapping is done very securely as if it slides off in the middle of the loch you would need a police dive team to get it.
As I punt away from shore with my paddle I suddenly become aware of the peace and quiet. It’s beautiful, with nothing more than the soft splashing of paddle on water to break the silence. Andy described this stark contrast as we were climbing the hill: the furious pedalling, the splashing of mud and adrenaline accompanied effort all followed by the tranquillity on the water. It all comes back to me and makes perfect sense as we paddle onto the still, open loch, as the late afternoon sun strikes low across the backdrop of surrounding mountains. Sitting back in my boat, bike and camp gear strapped down in front of me, I’m in heaven.
After kicking back to drift for a few magical moments in silent appreciation of our beautiful surroundings, we paddle on down the lake, the late afternoon sun lighting up the tops of the surrounding mountains.
At the far end of the loch Rob guides us expertly down the quickening river that drains it. After a few kilometres of easy paddling we come to a rickety wooden bridge with a smiling face on it. Iona, a friend of Andy and Rob, has pedalled in from the road with a BOB trailer full of camping gear and the odd treat, so after we have pulled the boats onto shore and met her we deflate, roll and saddle up for only a few hundred metres to our campsite for the night by the river.
With the tents up, tea brewed and dinner on the stoves we relax and watch the evening fade. Andy forages for some wood and we soon have a small fire built on a temporarily dry section of riverbed. The moon rises and we’re treated to some ginger grouse – whisky and Crabbies ginger ale – to see the sun down.
Time to reflect
As we stare into the flames, mugs in hand, the advantages and adventures of carrying a raft are discussed and routes where having a raft would make a difference tabled. I mentally rifle through the address book of my rides and come up with a selection that would either be enhanced, or plain made possible, with the use of a raft attached to my bike.
“You begin to see the blue bits on the map as potential highways,” Andy says over yet another ginger grouse, settling himself onto his log seat to get more comfortable. “The water is as much a trail as the paths on land.”
Kicking back by the fire, drinks in hand under a star-studded sky, I know he’s making sense. With only the burble of the river in the background, the conversation eventually dies and everyone make their way to bed. The end of a very different, but fantastic day.
The morning dawns with a perfect blue sky. To escape the few midges that are bugging the campsite we walk up to a bridge above and cook up porridge and other breakfast delights, along with the obligatory five cups of tea to start the day.
The remainder of the ride back to the cars is all downhill, but as we reach the bottom, Rob veers off through a gate and onto the side of the River Pattack – the same river we had paddled the day before.
In between our paddles are some serious rapids and waterfalls – thanks for not dropping me down them guys – so we’ve by-passed them on the bikes. After securing the bikes once again we’re left with a cracking float down the river, skimming down the occasional spritely section of faster water, before popping out next to the golden sands of Loch Laggan. A beautiful end to a cracking journey. Great company, great views and a whole new tool for adventuring.
