Singletrack Magazine Issue 128 | UK Adventure – Ochils the Noo

Had Hobo been Scottish, he might have stopped in Stirling although I suspect the reception he would have gotten back then would have been more of the ‘Get tae f###, ya mangy, rabid mongrel!’ before having a half-eaten chip poke launched at him. Fortunately for the mountain biking hobo who finds themselves whizzing up the A9 to the riding honeypots of the Cairngorms, Torridon and beyond, there is a veritable feast of trail treasure (and mixed metaphors) to be discovered. 

If you only know Stirling as the place with the castle, the Battle of Bannockburn where one entitled royal bampot sought to wrestle the throne from another entitled royal bampot, and the site of a weird, pointy monument dedicated to someone played on screen by a diminutive Antipodean with a penchant for inappropriate public outbursts [he’s talking about Braveheart – Ed], you are seriously missing out. Put on a brew, put your feet up and let me shine a little light on this hidden gem.

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Stirling – Gateway to the Highlands.

Located at the very heart of Scotland, Stirling isn’t necessarily the first place that springs to mind when you think of towns and cities with great mountain biking on their doorstep and which are destinations in their own right. Sheffield, Aviemore, Innerleithen and Peebles regularly top the list, but to ignore Stirling is to do it a great disservice. In the last issue, the lead feature and cover (modesty forbids me from saying who wrote that fine piece of work and took the pictures…) highlighted the virtues of riding Ben Ledi, a fine Scottish mountain a mere 20-minute drive from Stirling. Previously we’ve waxed lyrical in the magazine about the virtues of riding Dumyat and the trails around the University of Stirling campus, two great ride areas both easily accessible from the town. However, there is so much more within easy riding distance of the heart of Stirling that it would be remiss of me not to tell you a little about what awaits, you should you decide to take the road less travelled. 

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The Ochil Hills.

Occupying an area of land bigger than that of the Lakeland Fells, the Ochil Hills dominate the northern skyline of the city of Stirling. Large, sprawling, rounded lumps topping out at just under 730m, they are not exactly what you would call sexy hills. There is none of the jaw-dropping grandeur of the likes of the Buchaille or the Northern Corries, nor the ever-changing vista offered by pretty much every Lakeland ride, but to write them off as dull and unworthy would be a mistake. Taking advantage of a welcome high-pressure front after what felt like weeks of rain and murk, my friend Brian and I found ourselves in Tillicoultry on a glorious autumnal Sunday morning. Saddling up, we were soon riding under a canopy of birch and rowan wearing their golds and browns to great effect as we bathed in the light of a low sun. With leaves crunching under tyre, it was an easy spin along the old Kings Highway. Being an ancient seat of the Kingdom, Stirling’s importance as a centre of trade and power extends back many centuries. As such, you don’t have to look far to find a royal connection. In this case, we were on a trail thought to have been used by royalty (or as Horrible Histories usually reveals, psychotic nut jobs who would do anything for power and wealth) to travel between Stirling Castle and Falkland Palace during the 16th century. Given that Mary Queen of Scots appears to have slept in pretty much every old Scottish building ever, we were probably following in her footsteps – albeit without the choppy head-offy ending she enjoyed.

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Breaking through the treeline, the trail took a turn for the steep and loose – a well maintained farm track cutting an obvious line through Silver Glen. Frankly, you would have to be trying really hard to get lost on it. Named (unoriginally enough) after the richest deposit of silver ever discovered in the UK, many of the old mine workings can still be seen if you go looking for them. Just don’t look too closely as some of the shafts are still open and could be the last place you ever play hide and seek. However, it was treasure of a different kind we were in search of – trail treasure. Tacking into a fierce brute of a headwind, Brian and I made our way up the 4km climb that would lead us to the shoulder of Ben Buck. Head down and going for it, Brian managed to crack a tooth as he gave it the beanz on a particularly steep section of trail. I have to say I admired his commitment to cleaning that particular section!

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Views. Nothing to see but views.

Devoid of trees, the glen has a bleak and stark beauty to it. Having been up here previously in a whiteout I know how grim it can be, but on this day we were given the full tourist treatment. Hitting the saddle, we turned east to follow a well-trodden, albeit in parts boggy trail, that would take us to the summit of Ben Cleuch, the high point of the range at 720m. To our delight, the teeth-cracking headwind was now a full on tailwind. The trail to the summit can be a bit of a challenge – if you want to clean it, bring your low gears and your climbing legs. Leading the way, I passed a jolly walker coming off the hill. Only later did I learn that as he passed Brian pushing, he laughingly suggested that I was perhaps a bit of a nutter for riding up.

Cresting the summit, we took shelter behind a low stone wall built up around the trig point and took in the panorama that revealed itself in full glorious technicolour. To the north, the Ben Lawers massif loomed large, the summit ridge being shrouded in wispy high cloud and to the west, Ben Ledi and the Munros of the Southern Highlands; to the east, the Pentland Hills of Edinburgh, Berwick Law and the Bass Rock while to our south, Stirling and the great plains of the Forth Valley. We were within touching distance of civilisation, but we felt far removed from it as we sat debating the relative merits of which Haribo sweet is the best. Despite having been up here many times, I found the shadows cast by the low autumn sun brought hitherto unseen trails into sharp relief. I made a mental note that a return exploratory mission was called for. 

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Leaving the summit behind, we dropped saddles as we made our way at speed towards Andrew Gannel Hill, our final summit of the day, which ultimately led us to the steep-sided, glacially eroded valley that would take us directly to our van far below us in Tillicoultry. Having first ridden this descent well over 20 years ago, I was excited about getting reacquainted with it. Regarded as an old school classic, it is now overlooked by the winch and plummet brigade who think mountain biking begins and ends with purpose-built trails. Their loss is our gain, however, as it meant we had the trail entirely to ourselves. Despite being a favourite descent back in the days when stems were long, saddles were high and wheels were small, it is no easy pushover on today’s long, low and slack bikes of choice.

Micro-tracking.

A barely discernible rut of a micro-track wends its way through the grass and heather, rarely revealing more than a few feet of itself at a time. Concentration and careful pedal placement are required lest one wants to be pitched off down the hillside in ignominious manner. Looking ahead and up the trail doesn’t work; you simply cannot see that far ahead – rather it is more akin to riding by feel and instinct alone. Those expecting easy flow should look elsewhere. However, stick with it and the rewards come. Slowly, almost inexorably at first, the trail becomes more defined and the riding easier. Speed picks up as the slope steepens and the hillside track becomes more open. Glacial moraines, an old gatepost, banks of fern – all whizz by in the blink of an eye. A rocky chute over a burn appears, the smooth track becomes interspersed with boulders waiting for you to take your eye off them for just a second, the sides steepen and suddenly you find yourself in a rocky channel of stepdowns and bedrock. It is nothing if not varied. You stop for a breather. Looking up, the villages and towns of the valley appear to have suddenly popped up in front of you with no warning whatsoever. ‘Were we not just on the summit a few minutes ago?’ you muse to yourself. Not one to finish with a whimper but a bang, a series of flowing switchbacks beckons you ever downward before finishing with a series of wooden steps built into the trail. Fast or slow, you chose, both work. And then it is done. Spat out onto a minor road you are back in civilisation, your ride over. And what better place to finish than at the old drovers’ pub that is The Woolpack, which just happens to be right in front of you when you finally look up? An open fire, real ale on tap, job done.

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A second day in the North Third.

Variety is the spice of life and if you have a taste for the trail equivalent of an intense Scotch Bonnet Karahi, North Third might just be up your street. In a departure from typical Scottish weather, the following day dawned blue sky and frosty – perfect riding weather. Hooking up with Stirling local Ben Jones of Deviate Cycles, we had pre-production prototypes of their latest offering, the Highlander, to play on. A long travel 29er with a high pivot idler design, it’s an interesting addition to the long travel trail bike category that has exploded in the last couple of years. 

Only a few minutes ride from Stirling city centre, Cambusbarron and the cliffs of North Third don’t offer the lung-busting climbs nor the big sky descents of the Ochils. Rather, they hark back to the days when you would nip up into the woods with your mates for a play on your bikes for a couple of hours before getting home back in time for tea and John Craven’s Newsround. However, what they lack in distance and elevation, they make up for in riding experience.

Heading out from Ben HQ, he quickly displayed his local knowledge honed over many years by getting us just a teensy bit lost. I laughed as Ben confessed that most of his riding in the last ten years had been done in the wilds of Scotland and the Alps and he rarely rode his bike up here. However, covering a fairly compact geographical area, it took us no time to get our bearings as we mooched through the woods and up in to a now defunct quarry. A favourite of local riders, the old spoil heaps make for an amusing winch and drop play session. Having bigger fish to fry, through a mixture of experience, guesswork and good fortune, we soon found ourselves on an old fire road that took us directly to the summit of Lewis Hill, an open clifftop that offers expansive views over to the Ochil and Touch Hills and far beyond. 

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Outstanding beauty, outstanding trail.

Taking a moment to bathe in the sunshine and chatting over some particularly fine beef jerky, Ben told me how his late father had had his ashes scattered here and how much walking the cliffs had meant to him. It was a touching moment and as we both took in the scene, it was easy to see why his dad had spent so much time up there. Despite being less than 300m high, the Lewis Hill cliffs have a sense of scale and grandeur that their height simply does not reflect. If you were to compile a tick list of essentials for what constitutes an area of outstanding beauty, North Third would surely rank highly. Open water with tree-covered island immediately in front of you? Tick. Expansive views over open moorland wearing its autumnal finery? Tick. Snow-capped peaks in the far distance beckoning you to explore them? Tick. A narrow singletrack trail along the edge of vertiginous cliffs? Tick. Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness purveying big country blue skies and warming sunshine? Tick. Tick. Tick. Let me cut to the chase: it is a special place for a whole variety of reasons. However, this being ‘Singletrack’ and not ‘Entitled World Traveller and Influencer Flowery Wank Quarterly’, you want to know about the riding and rightly so. It is, at the risk of being bluntly hyperbolic, bloody brilliant.

A dry, hard-packed trail snakes its way along the top of the cliff. Rocky drops and short, sharp rises punctuate the trail as you ride through the heather-laden landscape. To your left, what you think are bushes are actually the tops of large conifer trees soaring up from the base of the cliffs far below. You want to take in the scenery but the trail is just too damn fun to want to stop. After heather comes a copse of birch and ash, an enveloping blanket of ferns long past their summer pomp at their base. Out of the saddle, you are sprinting when suddenly the trail darts right and you are faced with a steep, rocky chute with wheel-swallowing rock steps. Ride or walk, you decide, both are fine. After the drop comes the steep winch back up through the trees. It’s a right old lung buster, make no mistake. Sun dapples through ancient woodland. Your mind wanders. Who knew that there were quite so many shades of brown, gold and green? Fans of Farrow & Ball would be having a hipster-fuelled paint-gasm at this point.

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Now things are getting a bit more consequential. Scots Pine and other types of conifers to your right, the trail hugs the very edge of the cliff. A rogue pedal strike or a misplaced wheel could have very big consequences. If you are going to fall, make sure you fall right. Look up, focus and flow. Another rocky chute, a brief section of portage and the third and final cliff beckons. What was once dense woodland is now an area of clear fell. The direction of travel is down, but the cliffs aren’t finished just yet. Roots and rocks abound as you throw your bike tyre edge to tyre edge, darting down prime Scottish trail. If you like going fast, make sure you bring your A game. If you like taking things a bit mellower, that works just fine too. You are losing height but an off could still be pretty serious. And then you are done, back on the fire road where you started. Time for a second lap perhaps?

Something for everyone.

Nipping through the old royal hunting grounds of Kings Park (‘Look, your Highness, some poor defenceless creature in need of you helping to make it extinct!’) back to Ben’s pad for coffee and cake; rhubarb tart no less, I couldn’t help but reflect on just how varied the trails around Stirling are. There is genuinely something for pretty much every type of rider. Old school cross-country, gravel, downhill ripper, jump spot sessioner – it’s all there and in spades. We’d experienced two great rides in two days but had so much more still to explore.

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Hopefully I’ve whetted your appetite sufficiently to consider stopping at Stirling next time you are passing by on what the late and much missed Jenn of this parish referred to as “The Road to Fun”. Go on. Take the road less travelled. You might just find your new favourite town. 

For your delectation and pleasure.

While this isn’t a route guide, a couple of places are definitely worthy of a mention for post-ride refreshments.

The Allanwater Café (allanwatercafe.co.uk) is a bit of a local institution for those who have a fondness for Scots-Italian fish and chips while Jam Jar café and restaurant (jamjarcafe.co.uk), also in Bridge of Allan, near the Dumyat and Ochil Hills trails, gets a big thumbs up too. 

If you are looking for somewhere to stay that doesn’t cost a small fortune, is bike friendly and appreciate top-quality gastro pub food, just a few miles out in the sleepy hillside village of Kippen is the award-winning Cross Keys Inn (kippencrosskeys.com). I like my food and will quite happily make the journey on my gravel bike from Glasgow, a round trip of well over 60 miles, just for their steak pie and mash. 

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