Dalwhinnie Distillery to Findhorn Bridge, Inverness

Hello from the middle of nowhere.  Other than a few bridges, there really isn't much else here, which meant there was no great fanfare when I arrived at Findhorn Bridge, although there was one friendly supporter welcoming me to the finishing line of this stage...

I called her Bridget.

The ride itself wasn't too bad - hot, but after the previous ride of 100km it felt like a stroll in the park only having 70km to do.  Having said that, I did do 45km of it at increased resistance with 10km of that at level 13!  I forget the exact breakdown of the distances at other levels, though I did at least 10km at level 12 as well, so I made it tough for myself to replicate some of those mountains I would have been cycling through if I hadn't been doing it at Pop-Up Gym.  I completed my ride to Findhorn Bridge in two hours and twenty three minutes, which I thought was pretty good going.

My leg symmetry was good throughout Wednesday's ride too, and whilst it isn't consistently around 50/50, it is certainly improving, and without doubt my general fitness is much improved.

So yes, there isn't very much to see at Findhorn Bridge other than Bridget, the River Findhorn, and the bridge.  When I arrived my initial reaction was to be pleased that I could camp so close to the river near the bridge, but then I discovered that the ground immediately by the river is very poor, which is why the second span of the bridge goes over the grass after the first has gone over the river - it isn't robust enough to take the weight of the bridge.  Now I'm not saying that I weigh the same as a reinforced concrete and steel girder bridge, but I didn't want to risk sinking into the ground in the night.  Plus, it seems that the river can be prone to flooding, which is why the bridge has pedestrian refuges built into it.  If the bridge needs pedestrian refuges then that suggests the water can flood the bridge, not just the riverbank next to it, and another good reason not to camp directly beside it.  Instead I chose a spot a little further along the road where I could still get a good view of the bridge, but didn't seem quite so risky, to pitch camp.

It's actually nice to be a little way from the bridge because it means that I get a better view of its interesting architecture when I go for a wander, and I do like the look of it from this angle...

...and the little 'windows' nicely frame the surrounding scenery...

So, without there being very much obvious to do here, and yet needing to keep myself active so that I don't seize up before I get to John O'Groats, I decided to unpack the canoe.  No, I know you can't see my panniers on the photo, but that's because I'd taken them off and left them at the tent so that I didn't have to cart everything - including the canoe - around while I was having my little venture back to the bridge.  I'd heard that the River Findhorn can get quite vigorous and offer excitement for white water canoeists, but it didn't look like it was about to offer me anything like that from here...

All was fairly tranquil, and although a little rocky, I knew that they wouldn't be a problem for the canoe.  I'm not a very experienced canoeist, having not done any since I was a teenager, and the canoe was a packing after-thought, but it felt fortuitous that I'd stuffed it into the panniers at the last minute, and it wasn't really any extra weight when I considered the four poster camp bed I was carting round with me.

I tossed a few bits into the back well of the canoe in case of any emergencies, though I was sure there wouldn't be any and I'd be fine, but I long ago learnt to be prepared for the unexpected.  A good thing considering some of the situations I've found myself in during this epic ride.

Of course, the thing I'd forgotten about rivers is that they change as they travel, and while it was fairly tranquil when I set off from Findhorn bridge, it got a bit friskier a little way downstream...

...and before long I was slightly out of my depth with the rapids that had appeared...

I couldn't work out how to get the canoe to the riverbank, having never done any white water canoeing even all those years ago when I had had a few lessons.  In fact I'd only just learnt how to escape from a capsize, so I really couldn't even call myself proficient, let alone a master.  Still, here I was in the middle of nowhere, in a canoe, in an increasingly rapid and, er, dangerous river (it's rare that I admit that I'm doing anything dangerous, so don't get used to it), and all of a sudden I found myself at the top of a waterfall.  A huge waterfall.  No amount of paddling backwards was going to stop me going over the top, so I clung on tight and set my mind to enjoy the ride...

 It was so exhilarating! (or you could read 'terrifying!') Amazingly nothing fell out of the canoe either, not even me!  Don't ask me how I managed to survive the 'flight' because I have no idea - the power of the very basic prayer of, 'God! Save me!'  I was so relieved still to be alive that I didn't care that my 'landing' wasn't exactly delicate...

...but as soon as I reached a miraculously calmer spot of water I had to celebrate...

The trouble with the kind of canoe trip I'd just had from Findhorn Bridge to wherever I was now, is that there was no way I was going to be able to go back the same way.  For starters, how do you go up a 100ft waterfall in a canoe?  Nope, it wasn't happening.  Luckily I was well equipped with the emergency supplies I'd stuffed in the canoe's rear well, so unpacked it all and made a start on reminding myself how to use the equipment...

...It took a bit of practise to get the hang of it...

...but it wasn't long before I was scooting back up towards Findhorn Bridge...

I tell you, that's the way to travel!  It's so much fun.

It didn't take me long to get back to Findhorn Bridge by water jet, and before I stowed the jet away in the panniers again I thought I'd try a little experiment - attaching my bike to the water jet...

It worked a treat, and now I can say that I've ridden my bike on water.  Teeheehee.

Fun over, it was time to think about food, and after such an active couple of days and exhilarating/terrifying time on the river I needed a good, hearty, Scottish meal.  There wasn't anywhere around to buy a meal, but I'd stashed a few things from the celebrations at Dalwhinnie, done some prep before leaving Dalwhinnie, and now I was quietly back at the tent I had some time for experimentation.

When I was a child/teenager we spent most of the summer holidays camping in the Lake District with my Dad and a random assortment of folk from various different aspects of his life who would come and go, changing with the weeks.  We spent much of this time occupying ourselves, playing with friends we met year after year at the campsite, and mostly swimming in the lake - Windermere - windsurfing, canoeing, sailing, paddling, playing in rubber dinghies, and generally having quite a Swallows and Amazons existence.  Dad was off doing much the same, either on his own or with his weird wife (not my mother!), or with his friends.  We'd all merge back together in the evenings, usually gathering for a huge bonfire barbecue, so spending time gathering wood first.  However, after hours of playing in the lake we'd all be freezing and hungry well before the barbecue was ready, so we'd invariably meet in dribs and drabs around the various camping stoves earlier in the afternoon or evening looking for something to warm us up.  One of my brothers favoured the Pot Noodle option (bleurgh!), but I think there's nothing better for warming you from a wild swim than a hearty soup.  Of course, we didn't get a hearty soup in these 'grab something quick' moments, we got a cuppa-soup, but today, after my time in the River Findhorn, I thought I'd love nothing better than a hearty cock-a-leekie soup to warm me up from the inside.  A good, foody soup full of chicken, leeks, prunes, and barley with plenty of pepper for spice...

I'm not usually a big fan of prunes, but they add a hint of sweetness and a different texture to the soup.  Yummy.  Filling too, but I'd used a lot of energy clinging onto that canoe for dear life, so I filled the remaining niggle of a hole with a delicious Scotch pie, with a big dollop of creamy mash and a puddle of gravy on the side, and a patriotic Scottish flag on top just for fun.

I think this is the only way I've eaten mutton ... unless I had it as a child without knowing.  Perfect comfort food, and really good fresh out of the oven.  Oh, did I mention that I'd packed the camping Aga?

It's ideal for warming the tent during these cold Scottish summer nights, and it cooks perfectly every time.

What better way to finish a Scottish meal after an active day than with a scrumptious dish of cranachan? It was either going to be that or shortbread, but I've got whisky to use from Dalwhinnie and I doubt shortbread dunks well in whisky, whereas cranachan is soaked in the stuff, with cream, raspberries, sugar, honey, and toasted oats...

Oh man, it's lush!  The memory of it is making me salivate, but I'm so full now that I couldn't possibly eat any more ... which is just as well because I haven't got any more.  It was divine, though, and I'm looking forward to some more traditional Scottish fair after the rides I still have ahead of me. Only four more to go and then I'll be at the top of mainland UK!  I can hardly believe it, although I think my legs can - they're tired, but so much fitter.

Most unusually, I move on tomorrow, Saturday.  I usually ride on a Friday, but this week I'm in for a weekend cycle up to Fyrish, Alness.  I think I'd better look at the map to find out where that is before I set off in the morning because I don't want to end up getting lost and adding an extra hundred miles to my ride.  1,022.5 miles is quite enough for me, thanks.  Yes, that's the total length of this epic virtual cycle ride I'm doing, or if you prefer it in kilometres it's 1,636km.  The next stretch of it up to Fyrish is 70km, the same as my ride from Dalwhinnie to Findhorn Bridge, so I'll aim to do it in a similar length of time.  I'll let you know when I get there.  In the meantime, if you'd like to sponsor me for my epic ride from Land's End to John O'Groats you still can at my Just Giving Page.  It's very easy to do, and the page gives more information about my own story and tells you more about Pop-Up Gym for which I'm raising the funds.  Please do donate if you can, and be assured that every single penny is hugely appreciated and will help all those folk who use the vital services Pop-Up Gym provides.


**All photos are from Google Images, except those of the MotoMed and my tent

Scone Palace to Dalwhinnie Distillery, Cairngorms

Wow! That was some ride!  100km up the steep mountains of the Cairngorms, some of which I tried to simulate by increasing the resistance of the MotoMed, doing 40km at gear 10, 10km at gear 11, 10km at gear 12, and 5km at gear 13.  It was a real challenge, and extremely hard work for my legs that haven't worked properly since the two episodes of Cauda Equina Syndrome I had in September and October 2016.  I started off relatively slowly because I needed to pace myself for the long ride, but after a relatively short warm up I began increasing the resistance because I knew that I'd have to take it up higher than I'd been before if you, as my sponsors, were going to get your money's worth out of me.  It definitely felt as though you did, and it wasn't until I got here that I discovered that Dalwhinnie Distillery is the highest distillery in Scotland at 1164 feet above sea level, and a little higher than the highest village in the Highlands.  However, I had known in advance that it was going to be a tough cycle, and I'd expected it take perhaps four hours, but somehow, despite the steep climbs, I did it in 3 hours 26 minutes!

I was knacked by the time I finished.

But what kept me going was the support I was getting, and the locals who had come out in force to spur me on...

It could be said that they kept me mooving 😁

For all that it was really hard going, the Highlands, and specifically on this ride the Cairngorms are beautiful...

In case you're not sure where the Caingorms are, here's a helpful map...

...You can see that although I still have a long way to go, I am deep in the heart of Scotland now, and passing through some very remote and beautiful areas.  There are some fantastic views from the mountains too, and Dalwhinnie itself sits just a little up from the northern end of Loch Ericht...

The village of Dalwhinnie grew around an inn in the early 1700s, and around the point at which the old drovers' roads to the markets meet, the name 'Dalwhinnie' being derived from the Gaelic language word for 'meeting place'.  The inn, unimaginatively called 'The Inn', is very much still trading, although I expect they get fewer drovers now and plenty more drivers instead.  One of their main advertising features is that they're 'The coolest hotel in the Highlands', not because they're amazingly trendy, but because their average annual temperature is 6C!  With that in mind, I'd considered staying there instead of camping, but the cruelty of my ride is that the distillery lies slightly north of the village so, just when I thought I'd arrived at my destination, I had merely to pass through...

... and continue on to the distillery, whereupon I collapsed in a heap...

Once I could move again I lifted my head and thought I was dreaming or hallucinating, because there in front of me was the most beautiful sight of the day...

It didn't matter that there was no glass.  I guzzled from the bottle, which perhaps was not the most sensible thing to do, especially as I still had to pitch camp, and consequently my first attempt looked like this...

After an involuntary nap, somewhat aided by the whisky, I started again with the camp pitching and eventually got it looking decent...

I admit that I didn't get further than the tent on my first night, but seeing as I was here from Friday until Wednesday that still left plenty of time for exploring the distillery and attending at least one of the tours.

It isn't absolutely necessary to go on one of the tours in order to find out about the history of the place as they do have displays and information boards with some of this information in the shop area...

...but why would you pass up the chance to explore the distillery with the opportunity to taste some of their whiskies included in the price?  Not only that, but you get chocolates served with the whisky samples!

Or there's the option to have hot chocolate with whisky...

I thought it'd be rude not to try both, and of course I had to sample all the chocolates to see which I thought was best paired with the various whiskies, of which there are several...

I have to admit that I can't remember much about the tour, though I can't imagine why that might be.  I remember that the distillery was purpose built in 1897 and was first called Strathspey, that during the course of its history it has changed ownership a number of times, and that it is currently owned by an American.  Oh, there was a fire in the distillery in 1934 that caused it to close for a few years too, but it is very definitely in full swing now. 

There was a fair bit of detail on the tour about the process of whisky making, as you'd expect - how it's done; how the water used influences the whisky that's produced; how the grains vary the type that's made, and that single malt Scotch whisky must be barley; how yeast conditions are vital to successful production; what is done in the maltings; how precise the moisture content of the grain must be before milling; the mashing process; fermentation; distillation; and maturation.  It's a lengthy and complex process, with so many variables that can influence the quality and taste of the final product, much of which I didn't really understand before seeing all the equipment and machinery that makes it possible.  One of these huge pieces of equipment sticks out of the building and is the first thing that you see as you approach...

Those things on the side that look like enormous barrels are called worm tubs.  To my relief, they do not actually contain worms.  Well, they do have worms in them, but not of the living variety.  Essentially the worm is a type of condenser, made of metal, that looks serpentine because it twists and snakes around on itself.  I think they're used in the distilling stage of production.

The pointy things on the roof of the building - these...

...they're the chimneys of the maltings where the process of grain germination is expedited, then heated and cooled to get it to exactly the right stage at the right time, or something.

These things...

...are the mash tuns (I think) where the ground grain is mixed with water, some magical things happen with enzymes and water of exactly the right temperature, and the result is a kind of barley water.

After some other magic occurs in some other big piece of equipment that causes fermentation, then it's time for the liquidy goodness to go into the sills for distillation.  The sills are the joyously shiny tanks that you may already associate with a distillery...

I think they're beautiful.

Distillation happens in stages with different temperatures of the different stages increasing the alcohol content, but the sills also separate the different 'cuts' so that the 'less desirable components' are filtered off.  Apparently the size and shape of the sill can influence the 'heaviness' of the spirit.

Gosh, I almost sound like I know what I'm talking about!

After all that, the whisky is put in barrels and stored in a warehouse to mature for up to 70 years!  Even the barrels influence the taste of the whisky, the chemistry of the woods affecting their reaction with the spirit within...

It might have been a mistake to go off for a wander amongst the barrels. It might have been more of a mistake to have sampled this bottle of deliciousness that was left lying around...

It was probably an even bigger mistake to forget to listen to what was being said in the distance and to miss the guide telling everyone that the tour was over and he'd now take us to the shop.  Quite by accident I found myself shut in the warehouse with 'only' several hundred barrels of whisky for company.  There's only so much staring at full barrels of whisky that one can do before the urge to taste the contents overwhelms, and is in fact necessary for keeping warm.  After all, you must remember that one of Dalwhinnie's questionable selling points is its cool temperatures and average annual temperature of 6C.  However, it is possible that I sampled a little too much of the distillery's wares...

It was early morning when I was finally released from the warehouse, but I now realise what I didn't at the time - I still had rather a lot of alcohol in my system.  Or, to put it another way, I was still completely blotto.  I thought that maybe I should pedal into the village to see if I could find some kind of gift as an apology to the distillery owners, not that I'd seen a gift shop whilst passing through.  The problem was that what I had thought in my drunken state was my bike, was in fact this...

...and the result was this...

Needless to say, I did not increase my popularity.

I decided that the only thing I could do was to go into the shop, buy everyone a drink or ten, and spread some cheer...

Somehow word spread and it got a little busier than I'd anticipated...

Folk came rushing from far and wide...

...and even the hairier locals have managed to have a dram or two too many...

I'm pleased to say that my apology seems to have been accepted and my misdemeanour forgotten about, perhaps in a drunken haze, but forgotten nonetheless.  I can leave tomorrow with a light heart and a spring in my step...

...and probably a wee bottle of whisky tucked away in my panniers to see me through the rest of my cycle through the highlands to John O'Groats.  This one ought to suffice...

So tonight is my last night in Dalwhinnie before I move on to the middle of nowhere somewhere in Inverness-shire.  I'd better abstain from any more alcohol now so that I have a clear head for cycling tomorrow, and I'll see you when I get to Findhorn Bridge.  Please do sponsor me if you'd like and you haven't already (or even if you'd like to for a second time!).  All proceeds will go towards Pop-Up Gym, and even if I can't reach my ambitious target of £2,500 it would be fabulous to get to £1,500.  You have all been so generous already, but I'd love to raise that little bit more, so please do visit my Just Giving page for an easy way to donate, and to read more of why Pop-Up Gym is so important to me personally, as well as all the others who use it.  

**All photos are from Google Images except for those of my tent and the MotoMed.