Issue 148 Purposeful Adventure – Beyond The Blues

Trash Free Trails A-Teamers Pete Scullion and Ali Hair give a cold ride a warm glow by adding purpose to their adventure.

What if our adventures not only sustained us and our connection to nature, but they actually contributed towards making a positive impact on the places we visit? The Trash Free Trails movement wants to encourage you to embark on a purposeful adventure and take hands-on action to preserve and enhance the environment that nurtures you. That doesn’t mean your adventure should shun your personal enjoyment.

Choose something that motivates and excites you, but think about how you can make a positive impact at the same time. Trash Free Trails will always suggest a trail clean, but it absolutely doesn’t have to be limited to that. A purposeful adventure can be anything you want it to be. It might leave the place you visited in a better state, perhaps you give something back to the people that live there, or it may give you some valuable headspace. Perhaps it’s a mix of all three. As a Trash Free Trails A-Teamer, I hope that seeing some of my own purposeful adventures might inspire you into adding this extra dimension to your own rides.

Big Hill, small hours

Inspiration for this Trash Free Trails Purposeful Adventure came from my fellow Scotland-based Trash Free Trails A-Teamer, Mr Ali Hair. With the mountains covered in snow and daylight somewhat limited, we had to think a little bit laterally when it came to tagging a day out on the bikes and making such an adventure purposeful. After some back and forth, we concocted the idea of taking a normal, almost mundane trail centre loop at one of the UK’s ‘dullest’ trail centres (Carron Valley, halfway between Glasgow and Stirling.) and flipping it on its head in pursuit of purposeful adventure. We hoped to demonstrate that even your local blue loop, or the simplest of rides, can be turned into a purposeful adventure that both connects us to nature and leaves a positive impact on our environment. Also – and this is where Carron Valley comes in – to show that this is within reach of any rider, no matter their skill level or proficiency.

This purposeful adventure would involve a pre-sunrise meet at Carron Valley. I’d never ridden there before as I have better riding from my back door, but, as with trail centres around the UK, it offers all-weather riding as well as being a great place to get people hooked on mountain biking. After pedalling through the trail centre and going beyond the trail centre boundary itself, we’d cross the forest and climb nearby Meikle Bin – the tallest summit in the Kilsyth Hills – in time for sunrise. Like many Scottish peaks whose Gaelic names conjure visions of tall mountains, deep glens, crashing water, angry skies… the works, Meikle Bin’s English translation is as unromantic as the others. Meikle, a corruption of muckle, which means large, many or plentiful; and Bin, a corruption of Ben, simply means hill. Meikle Bin: Big Hill.

Why Meikle Bin? Well, in addition to its prominence it offers fantastic panoramic views as the highest of the Kilsyth Hills. You can see the hills on Arran, the entire Central Belt, and the mountains from Ben Lomond and the Arrochar Alps all the way to the Lawers Range. On a clear day you can also see coast to coast. After sunrise we’d return to the trail centre, doubling down on the purposeful adventure by picking up any SuPs (Single-use Pollution) we might find on the way.

Scaling Meikle Bin for sunrise in freezing temperatures would take the ride beyond the limits of many – perhaps even ours. But if you feel like you’ve got to the point where Carron Valley’s waymarked offerings no longer offer the excitement they used to, then in better weather Meikle Bin is an easily accessible bolt-on that simply requires you to traverse the fire road along the southern shore of Carron Valley Reservoir. This route is signposted as it’s also a popular walking route. Bear in mind that you’re not only going to increase the distance covered, but also the elevation compared to the blues and reds of Carron Valley. You’ll need to allow plenty of time and take extra spares and fuel, but it’ll be worth it, I promise. While the trail centre offers all-weather consistency, Meikle Bin, as we found out, is devoid of cover and any wind or rain will cut right through you. On a warm spring day, however, it could easily be one of the best, and most easily accessible vantage points in Central Scotland.

Frozen porridge

While I am no stranger to a dawn raid up a hill, Ali makes sure I take the bait when he informs me that there is the wreck of a Royal Navy Fairey Firefly on the hill that crashed there in 1950 en route to what was then called HMS Sanderling, but is now Glasgow Airport. He teases me further saying that there’s a wing panel just below the summit, and the Rolls-Royce Griffon engine is a short clamber off the top too. Piston-engined warbirds… Obviously it would be better to see them in the air, but this one’s been here for 72 years. Hook, line and sinker. I’m in.

One of the major upsides of dawn raids in the middle of winter is that the sun comes up at a far more reasonable time than in mid-summer, especially the further north you go. With a sunrise time of 08.36, it’s a far cry from my dawn raids on the longest day when the sun pips the horizon just after 4am. 

We’d managed to find a gap in the perma-rain that seems to typify the late winter period in central Scotland, and were met with freezing temperatures and clear skies. Where there was water, there’d be ice, but the dry ground would be frozen solid and fast going. A very different experience from post-thaw fire roads that feel like you’re riding through porridge.

With faff limited owing to the desire to get the blood moving, we were soon wheels rolling. The stillness of the night was almost deafening, and everything around us glistened with a layer of frost clamped to it. Every now and again the quiet would be shattered by the nearby hoot of an owl, but, as soon as it arrived, it was gone and we were alone again in the inky darkness. With this being my first ride here I could have been on any fire road, anywhere. I trust Ali knows where he’s going as I certainly don’t. Despite having already been awake a while, my legs certainly aren’t, and the outward lap is tough, to say the least. Ali has borrowed an e-bike, which is making his outlap extra fun – a sticky chain making it sound like a Tiger 1 tank rolling through the woods. 

Beyond the towering pines, Meikle Bin looms ahead. The 570m summit stands proud of the Forth Vale and the Central Belt below, but the high ground in between the Campsies and the Kilsyth Hills that marks our start point means that we’re not climbing its full height. With the trees fizzling out, we’re soon treated to a monumental starry sky to the north. The artificial light of the Central Belt dims the natural light of the distant stars somewhat in the other direction. There was a whiff of the aurora borealis forecast but it’s not to be tonight; the skies are clear, in every sense of the word. 

Despite being very popular due to its easy climb and proximity to most of Scotland’s population, we actually struggle to find much SuP in the opening miles, leaving us to winch contentedly towards the summit. As we climb the westerly ridge of Meikle Bin, the wind picks up and the temperature plummets. We’re running on around –4°C air temperature. With wind steady at 18mph, we’re closer to -12°C and the gusts make things pretty interesting. The tips of my moustache are starting to stiffen up as they succumb to the cold…

Sliding upwards

From here, I’m walking on clumps of ice that have formed around the cleats on my shoes, and Ali is cursing the lack of grip, left to push his e-bike to the top or stand still wheel-spinning on the spot. There’s little clue as to how much, or how little, grip will be available, but it’s varying degrees of not very much. Just before the summit, we make the dogleg towards the starboard inner wing panel of the aforementioned Fairey Firefly, a two-seat naval reconnaissance, anti-shipping and anti-submarine fighter. I’ve seen a Firefly before, but somehow, up close, you’re never really ready for just how big these things are.

Everything from the landing gear strut and cannon tubes was present, and the manufacturer’s marks are still on the panelled aluminium. Sadly, quite a few people had seen the wrecked wing as a good place to stash their crap, so we do a quick sweep to leave it in better nick than we found it.

With 70-year-old lumps of aluminium hard to pick out in the dark, we wait for sunrise before going for a traipse around the hill. We know from reports that it’s somewhere 50m vertical off the trig point to the southwest but that’s about it. Having hunted out large aeroplane engines before, I know that with the aluminium mottled to look like lichen-covered rock, they do just blend into the terrain a little too well. With the sun not far off ruining the dark night, we take in the Milky Way and the constellations that tower overhead. The sky is coast to coast and it’s hard to know where to look. We’re distracted from the bitter cold of the summit and the gradual warming of the eastern horizon by a rosary on the trig point. Could it have been left as a tribute to those who passed in the plane crash, or something entirely unconnected? 

The rising of the sun seems to add no warmth whatsoever, and as we’ve both lost the feeling in our hands some time ago, we opt to drop the height to find the Rolls-Royce Griffon. Despite still facing into the wind, this short plunge sees the temperatures rise and the awful feeling of blood coming back to our finger tips has us both dancing and near barfing at the same time.

Wreckage hunters

We soon pick out the lump of piston engine at what was the weather edge of the forest before it was felled. The headers are gone, as are the exhaust stacks, but the valve train chrome plating survives. Impressive. Trying not to go into too much nauseating detail, I give Ali a brief overview of the Rolls-Royce V12’s lineage as he collects the few tins scattered about the engine. Happy that we’ve left the spot in better condition than we found it, we dream of hot beverages and a trail centre descent. 

Before we enjoy either though, we have to navigate the still-frozen ridge in the opposite direction. I’m confident that neither of our rear wheels did a single full revolution off the top. The frozen snow and patches of sheet ice covered by dustings of more snow made the ascent interesting and the return leg even spicier. Better still, the lumps of ice I enjoyed in my cleats on the ascent remain and I am left to hover on my pedals all the way to the fire road. A crash is but a moment away at all times for both of us, and we’re quite content to be back on less frozen ground.

We’ve heard that there’s more plane wreckage off the northwestern side of the hill, so take a brief excursion to see if we can find a way onto the lower slopes to hunt it out. Unfortunately, some second generation pines block the path, and the early start leaves us disinclined to hack through the sharpest of British plants to find it. Add to that the report we read was from 2011, and with the wreckage against a different weather edge that may no longer exist, we decide to call it a day on the wreckage hunt. With that, we’re winching our way back towards the waymarked trails. The chat has mostly fizzled out due to two tired brains, and we’re just happy to not be dealing with sheet ice for a while, although we’re out of the sun so it’s not exactly tropical…

Wrecked hunters

By the time we get to the trailhead, my brain is mince, but in a turn I wasn’t really expecting, we’re going out of our way to find any SuP. This is the real treat when it comes to any planned purposeful adventure – when you set out to leave a positive trace by cleaning the place up, but almost completely fail to do so because there’s nothing to scoop up. Magic. We squirrel away what we do find, with our fingers crossed that the trail will be in a similar state next time we visit. 

Despite the ascent being mellow, my easiest gear never feels quite easy enough. A nap is definitely on the cards when I get home. Ali keeps luring me forward by claims that we’re not far from the top, but the lack of the top around every corner is quite disheartening, even though we’ve barely climbed 100 vertical metres… I stare at my front wheel until the summit comes and I can freewheel again. My addled brain makes heavy work of the relatively easy trail ahead, and I’m left to watch Ali vanish off around every bend.

Beyond my addled brain, the trails are in fact a joy. The climb is gentle and despite the sheets of ice every now and again, we’re gaining height faster than you might expect. This would no doubt make laps pretty straightforward if you have the legs, allowing you to work on those skills on the descents and fitness on the climbs. 

One last climb and we drop into the final descent made up of some jumps and berms that wake the brain up nicely. Arguably, we’re both over-biked for this trail, with something a little shorter travel or a hardtail being very much the weapon of choice for this descent. Again, Ali speeds away as I content myself to simply getting to the bottom rubber side down. We roll out into the car park happy that for a spot so popular for both hikers and cyclists, we picked up very little SuP. Long may it stay that way. We also proved that a purposeful adventure is whatever fits your abilities. No, you don’t have to get up pre-dawn, but if you do, you’ll get treated to the stars. No it doesn’t have to be a hill, but you get to poke about a plane wreck if you go up Meikle Bin… 

Do It Ourselves

If you’ve got an idea for a trail clean, would like some guidance or just want to find other Trash Mob members in your area, take a look at the A-Team map on the Trash Free Trails website and get in touch with your local representative. They’ll love to have a natter.

Or, check out the Do It Ourselves (DIO) toolkit: trashfreetrails.org/dio-toolkit