MB Ultime 2021 - the world's toughest MTB race?

For several years the MB Race has been billing itself as "the world's toughest MTB race". That seemed like quite a claim given that their longest event was only 140km. For the 10th edition they decided to celebrate by creating the MB Ultime at 230km with 11,000m vertical. Could this really be the world's toughest MTB race?

Back in January Xavier Corin-Mick contacted me to propose forming a pair to race this event. Xav is notorious for being one of the strongest and most dedicated local cyclists, so it was with more than a little trepidation that I accepted his offer and we got on with submitting our application.

First up the organisers wanted to know about my palmares. This was to ensure that they wouldn't be sending anyone out onto the course who would be a liability to themselves and a burden on the emergency services. This was a bit of a wake-up call and made me think about whether I was up to the challenge. While none of the events I have done before were really in the same category (more bikepacking than Ultra-XC) and none of them were very recent they seemed to be satisfied with my 8th place in the Tour Divide back in 2016 and a win in the Highland Trail back in 2015.

Times have changed since those days and I now have two children under 3, so getting out for huge training rides is not as easy as it once was.

Training involved riding the fat-bike as much as possible during the winter, which seeing as I live in Chamonix is the only type of riding that can be done locally while the snow is on the ground. Once it finally melted in late March I was able to get the proper bike out and start some more adventurous rides.

Even without the snow I was pretty constrained by the time available and the general fatigue that life as a parent of young children can bring. I didn't do anywhere near as much training as I would have liked, but took my chances when the opportunity arose.

As the months rolled by the race date approached and I started thinking about conditions. In the woods around my home there is so little topsoil (due to having been glaciated only a few hundred years ago) that the trails can dry in less than 24 hours during spring and early summer. This is not so for the Aravis and Beaufortain ranges which were to form the route for the race and are home to proper mud when the weather is damp. As July progressed with rain almost every day it became obvious that the trails were not going to be dry and dusty. The 48 hours leading up to the start of the race put the final touches to the trail conditions with almost continuous rain.

As we prepared to start the race it was still raining, but while exchanging nervous greetings with other riders we noted that the rain had eased and it practically stopped before the 10am start. Looking around the other riders I noticed that everyone else seemed to have brought a super lightweight xc race bike - mostly full suspension but with some hardtails as well. My 14kg enduro bike with 2kg of tools, food and spare clothes strapped to it was starting to look rather sturdy by comparison when Xav pointed out someone who had brought a Rocky Mountain fat bike. This reassured me that I didn't have the heaviest bike on the start line after all, only the second heaviest.

Finally, after a briefing from the organisers 37 pairs set off to begin what they told us was not a race but an adventure.

I had printed off the route profile and sellotaped it to my top-tube so I could remind myself what was coming next at any point in the race. The first few kilometres showed a steady climb and this turned out to be mostly rideable but with a few inevitable pushing sections when bottlenecks caused the riders ahead to bunch up too much.

Xav had told me that I was in charge of setting the pace so that we didn't set off too fast and blow ourselves up early on. I was definitely feeling pretty steady and while it was frustrating to watch other riders pass me and pull away, I kept repeating my mantra for the opening section "let them go!". I think Xav found this mentally tough as he is naturally an extremely competitive rider (witness the ongoing tussle over a Strava KOM on a local climb that has become some kind of grudge match with another local rider).

Onto the first descent

The top of the first big climb brought us into thick mist and this was the point that some professional photographers had picked to take photos of the riders coming through. The shots they got were quite dramatic as we whooshed through the clouds, but I think a backdrop of an alpine vista would have been more appealing for most riders they were trying to sell their photos to.

Xav railing the berm

We plummeted down steep trail with Xav a short distance ahead until suddenly he stopped and shouted "off route!". Nightmare - we had overshot a junction by a few hundred metres and had to push back up the steep slope. As we did this more riders who had made the same error caught up with us and turned round. When we finally got back to the junction there were about a dozen riders who had been behind us negotiating the waterfall crossing to get onto the next bit of the descent. We were then stuck behind these riders down the next steep section until we finally got out onto the road at the bottom.

Thumbs up! (pic Olly Bowman)

My colleagues Emma and Janine along with Emma's daughter Sophie had dug out a cow-bell and were waiting at the bottom of this hill. They were somewhat confused why riders were coming from two different directions as evidently some others had missed the turn and not corrected their mistake.

Into the sunshine

The next climb began gently, but quickly ramped up as we passed through les Contamines. Here the organisers had taken the interesting decision to send us up a steep, unrideable footpath instead of the nicely graded zig-zag 4x4 track that went to the same place. Rustic German swear words issued from a fellow bike-pusher who evidently did not appreciate this route choice.

Once the summit of the Col Joly was reached, we turned onto a section of trail that Xav had warned me was a cow path and practically all unrideable. In the dry there would have been a few fun sections but the clay like mud ensured there were none. This mostly traversing section of 6km took over an hour to complete and was really awkward. Some parts were on slippery shale rocks that sloped towards serious drops. Not a place to be teetering around in stiff-soled biking shoes while trying to prevent an overloaded bike from taking off down the mountainside.

Another climb but still happy

Happily the next part was a descent of over 1,100 metres on lovely swoopy forest trails which led us to the first feed station at Beaufort. Biscuits, cheese and saucisson sec were gobbled rapidly before we were back outside to find that our bikes had been hosed clean of mud while we were eating. A quick squirt of chain lube and we were back on the bikes and climbing a road into the Beaufortain massif. An hour and a half of climbing led to a really interesting descent through a very steep forest. The trail was barely more than a tyre's width in many places and some of the switchbacks required some serious commitment (or for a couple of them a strategy of dismounting and turning the bike around).

Another long climb with a short burst of descent in the middle led us into a high alpage where the 4x4 track we had been following abruptly stopped. It was not easy to see where the route would go next as there was a band of cliffs above us. I was starting to get an insight into the warped mind of the course designer so it did not surprise me too much when I looked at the GPS screen to see that the route went straight up. Half an hour with the bike on my shoulder finally led to easier slopes and then the ridge of the Roche Parstire. Xav had gained a bit of a lead and was sitting shivering at the side of the trail. The misty summit was at 2,108m - the high-point of the whole route and it was 6 degrees Celsius. Not somewhere to hang about.

As we started to descend there were some course marshals (practically the first ones we had seen) who instructed us not to try and ride the next section - it was soon apparent why as the slippery rocks led to a right angle turn which would have been hard to make on the damp stone and the penalty for failure would have been a 5 metre drop onto the boulders below.

Muddy water bottle (pic Olly Bowman)

Safely negotiating this we suddenly dropped out of the mist and saw the sunset above the Chaîne des Aravis which was to be the setting for tomorrow's chapter of the adventure. A 1,300m descent with rooty sections, rocky bits and a little bit of almost everything else brought us back to Beaufort and some hot food while our bikes got another wash. On part of the descent our friend Olly Bowman (local rider and pro photographer) ambushed us with his camera - one of a few times he caught us on the course.

Team Axiom Vert CHX - photo by Olly Bowman

As we left Beaufort it was going dark and the next section was another long road climb towards les Saisies - the halfway point and a designated "base de vie" where there might be a chance of a lie down. As the stars came out we slowly worked our way up the hill and enjoyed the cool night air and the steady rhythm of turning the pedals. It wasn't to be all road, however and a quick dive through some woods led to a peat bog which ensured our riding shoes were nicely topped up with cold water as we pushed through the ankle-deep puddles. Emerging blinking into the floodlights of the centre sportif in les Saisies we were happy to have hit the half-way point.

After washing our bikes (les Saisies has a pleasingly palindromic name, but apparently no locals keen to volunteer to wash bikes at 1am) we were treated to a hot shower and a plate of pasta before having a lie down on rather firm gym mats. I had wrongly assumed there would be some kind of blankets and not put any warm clothes in the drop-bag that had been sent to Saisies, so all I could do was put on all my warm clothes. Fortunately I was tired enough to fall asleep pretty quickly, but I woke up less than half an hour later feeling cold. Xav had not slept and was keen to get going again. There was no question of me falling asleep again, so we quickly got ready and headed out into the darkness.

The next section was uphill so happily we had a chance to get some warmth into our muscles as we climbed up to the Chard du Beurre. This led into repeated descents, mostly pretty interesting but not too technical, followed by relatively short (300 metre vertical) climbs. By the fifth of these climbs I was starting to feel like we were going in ever-decreasing circles through the night, but to save my sanity the blue tint of the sky revealed that dawn was not far away.

Alpine hamlet (pic Olly Bowman)

Quickly my sanity was pushed to the brink again - the route dropped us into a steep sided gorge with a bridge over a torrent at the bottom. The only way out was a carry up a steep rocky slippery path. Halfway up this Xav shouted out that he thought we were off route again! Please no! Thankfully it was a case of poor GPS signal in the tree filled gorge causing his computer to have a 'moment'.

At about 6.30am we cruised into the village of Crest-Voland, where I suddenly realised that the discombobulation of pedalling through the darkness was over and that whatever happened the ride would be over at some point today. My body was in survival mode, but in my mind I was sure we could make it to the finish well before the 10pm time limit.

The next steep descent was what Xav had started to refer to as an "MB race special". This was a trail that had almost certainly seen fewer than a dozen pairs of mountain bike tyres in the last 6 months and while interesting to ride was a step beyond my capabilities in my fatigued state. The local knowledge of the organisers to find and include this kind of trail is impressive to say the least!

The bottom of this trail crossed the Arly river and the main road to Albertville, but our way did not spend more than 50 metres on the road before we came to a very well-marked turning to go up into some steep forest. The organisers evidently wanted us to be very sure that this was the right way to go because anyone seeing the forest would have immediately had their doubts. The trail on the ground was pretty much non-existent and after the initial scramble away from the road was blocked by three large fallen tree trunks. The almost metre-thick trunks were at an angle of 45 degrees, so climbing over them wasn't an option as it would have resulted in sliding off down the slope. Under them was the only way to go, but the gap was nowhere near as wide as my 780mm handlebars. By crawling myself through and then grabbing the bike by the stem I was able to drag it under first one tree, then another burying the end of the handlebars in the soil as I went. With this obstacle dispatched the rest of the climb was a standard-issue carry up stupidly steep hillside of the type we were now well used to.

Xav crushing yet another climb (pic Olly Bowman)

With great relief we burst out of the trees into a meadow which led to a paved road that would take us up the rest of this 900m climb to the Col de l'Arpettaz where Xav's wife Catherine was waiting for us. Breakfast of soup with pasta in it and a couple of cups of cola restored our spirits if not our bodies. Soon we were ready for the next section which rolled along the 4x4 track of the route de la soif (road of thirst) across the Col des Aravis and along the eastern side of the Aravis range. This section was without any shade at all, but there was no danger of thirst as the recent rain had kept the mountain streams babbling down the mountainside.

The next major obstacle was the Col du Niard, where the nice 4x4 track we had followed for 30km ran out and we started pushing our bikes up a steep slope. This gradually got steeper until carrying the bike was again the only feasible option, even if it wasn't an easy one. Part way up this section I picked up my bike for a steep pitch and took a step up onto the slope. My shoe lost grip and I fell forward, catching my wrist on a rock as I hit the ground. I shouldered the bike again, bleeding but not broken and stepped up - to almost the same result. This time the bike landed right on top of me and I struggled to wriggle out from under it. Finally at the third attempt I managed to scrabble my way up the greasy shale, and eventually the top of the col.

Xav singletrack descent (pic Olly Bowman)

A rapid descent on gravel tracks followed by a bike-drag through a lumpy cow pasture led to the final feed station at the Refuge du Tornieux. A first-aid crew had been stationed here to check on the status of any arrivals and they seemed to be taking more of an interest in my health than I was comfortable with. They kept asking if I was alright and telling me that I looked rather pale. I tried to reassure them that I was just a bit tired but it took a few fairly determined repetitions before they got the message "thanks for your concern but I'm quite alright". I hadn't expected to expend so much energy on rebuffing the attentions of the first-aiders. They did manage to help Xav by offering him some ointment that was more effective than the sun-screen he had resorted to using instead of chamois cream...

Leaving the last feed station, it seemed improbable that the course could maintain the same level of hardship in the last 26km to the finish, but the course designers were not done with us yet. For the penultimate climb (a mere 300 metres) they sent us up yet another steep, rooty forest footpath which involved a lot of pushing and virtually no riding. A short descent inevitably led to another climb, but I felt no worries, as even though this was a 600 metre climb it seemed insignificant, given we had already climbed 10,000 metres. It started fairly easily, zig-zagging up a gravel road but gradually ramped up to a gradient where pushing became inevitable. This final climb was also part of the course for the riders on the 140km "Ultra" version of the race. Some of them realised we were not in the same race as them and gave us words of encouragement which were much needed.

The final sting in the tail was a push through another bog and then up a steep, muddy path but all was quickly forgiven as this led to the euphoria of the Col de Jaillet - we could, at long last, say "it's all downhill from here". The last descent was made up of some fairly mellow trails that normally see a lot of traffic from the riders using the Megeve lifts. Xav was absolutely flying in spite of the fact that his rear shock had got stuck in locked out mode at some point. I was just holding on for dear life and trying not to get left too far behind. We finally dropped onto tarmac and swooped down the lanes that led to the finish area. As we rolled towards the line a wave of emotion hit me and I felt choked-up with tears. I was so relieved to have finished and so exhausted - physically and mentally. What a ride.

Bloody hell we made it! Photo by Olly Bowman

My wife, Sarah and children Aurora and Patrick were there to greet us at the finish. I was so happy to see them and to finally be able to put the bike down knowing I would not have to get on it again.

We stood on the finishing ramp for photos and the commentators explained to the crowd what we had just done. 5th overall out of 37 teams that started. A beer was handed to me and my happiness was complete.

Me (pic Olly Bowman)

It turns out only one team finished behind us. Another two dropped out at the final feed station, only 26km from the finish which seems unbelievable having already covered over 200km. It looks like they would have been well within the overall time limit, so there must be another story there - maybe the persuasive powers of the first-aid crew did for them and they let themselves be convinced that it really wasn't a good idea to carry on.

Xav (pic Olly Bowman)

So, to loop back to the question I posed at the start, is it really the toughest MTB race in the world? With an 84% drop out rate for this, the only edition held so far, it certainly must be up there. If you exclude stage races, such as the Cape Epic and Iron Bike Italy, and bikepacking events, such as the Tour Divide and Iditarod Trail, I haven't been able to find anything of comparable elevation gain. Even if you count the 4,350km Tour Divide then the total amount of pushing/carrying is much less than the amount in the MB Ultime (unless you run into deep snow, or sticky mud like I had in Montana). In terms of technical descending there is hardly any in the Tour Divide (the same goes for the Cape Epic from what I've heard). On the other hand, the Iditarod Trail's challenge really lies in surviving the cold and the wilderness rather than riding bikes.

Maybe the MB Ultime really is the world's toughest mountain bike race...

Tour Divide 2016 - Summary

4,351 km (2,704 miles)

49,608 m height gain (162,756 feet)

18 days 15 hours 51 minutes

That was hard! Really hard.

Every one of those 19 days on the trail was tough in itself. All of them were well over 100 miles, the longest was over 200 miles. The height gain is the real killer though - the biggest day for height gain was over 4,000m (13,400 feet).

Taken together with no rest days this amount of riding is brutal.

At the end of day two I was in serious trouble with knee pain and thought I might have to quit. Fortunately I made some changes on the morning of day three which made the pain bearable. After that it steadily improved. From then on I felt stronger as the ride went on and never felt that I was in serious danger of not finishing.

Saddle sores, foot pain, hand numbness. These are the long distance cyclist's almost inevitable complaints. They became more or less tolerable at various points, but never threatened to stop me.

I lost a lot of weight in the first week. After that I made a real effort to eat plenty and never passed up an opportunity of a proper meal. Also it became much warmer so my body didn't need to burn as much energy keeping warm. My weight stabilised and from then on I felt like I was stronger than the other riders who were doing a similar pace to me.

The weather varied from cold rain (not quite snow) to desert heat. I slept under beautiful starry skies and awoke with frost on my bivvy bag.

I watched the sun rise and set almost every day of the ride - so many beautiful moments.

The seasons changed from late spring in the north to high summer in the south, and the days grew shorter as I moved towards the equator. The moon moved from first quarter through full and ended as a waning crescent.

Parts on the bike which started out new gradually wore out. Fortunately the only bits I had to replace were the brake pads, and those only once. The tyres, chain and cassette were all toast by the end of the ride though.

Finishing was an amazing feeling - some slight sadness that it was all over, but most of all relief that I would not have to get up and ride a bike the next day!

Here are the links to descriptions of the different sections of the ride for those who are interested in the detail (or just looking at the pretty pictures).

Part 1 - Canadian Section
Part 2 - Montana
Part 3 - Idaho and Wyoming
Part 4 - Colorado
Part 5 - New Mexico

Tour Divide 2016 Kit

Mountain bike tour of Mont Blanc

Back in September 2013 I spent a fantastic weekend riding the tour of Mont Blanc. I made a video of it at the time (https://vimeo.com/75344691) but didn't get round to documenting it on here so thought I should put my thoughts and details of the route down before I forgot them.

This is a really special route. It visits three countries (France, Italy and Switzerland) as well as circumnavigating the highest mountain in western Europe. It crosses remote alpages and passes of up to 2,500m. A bike tour should not be undertaken lightly as riding it is both physically strenuous and technically difficult. I would not recommend attempting the route in July or August as the number of walkers on the route can be enormous. June is normally ok for an attempt on the route, however there may be large snow patches to cross, which can be dangerous - I have experienced sliding out of control down one of these with a bike and it's pretty scary! September is probably the best month for it, but a dry October or even November could be good if the snows have yet to arrive.

Being lucky enough to be living and working in Chamonix means I had the opportunity to do this kind of thing on a weekend when other folks would have to plan a whole holiday around it.

I left work in Chamonix at 5 on a Friday afternoon and pedalled like crazy to get to the Prarion cable car in Les Houches before it closed at 5.30. Fortunately I made it in time and 7 minutes later had gone from 1,000m above sea level to around 1,800m. This was the only lift I took on the tour and it didn't feel like cheating as I've pushed up the slope beneath the lift to get up here before and don't feel there is anything to be gained from it. I also had an annual lift pass so the lift was free!

The view from the top of the Prarion lift above Les Houches

The first part of the descent is a lovely singletrack through the pine trees and across the alpine meadows. Lower down the trail turns to 4x4 track before dropping you into Bionnassay. From here I followed the road to the Pont des Places where the track deteriorated into a muddy logging track. A short distance along this I came across the loggers who were scratching their heads over an upturned logging vehicle with its wheels in the air. Not a good one to have to deal with or explain to the boss at 7pm on a Friday!

These guys were having a significantly worse Friday evening than me!



I trundled on to le Champel and then on to the main road to les Contamines before getting onto the bike track that took me all the way to Notre Dame de la Gorge. From here there was a steep climb which involved some pushing, even on a bike with plenty of gears. This led over the ancient Pont Romain and the torrent in its carved out gorge and then past the Nant Borrant refuge where some hikers were enjoying an evening beer. After crossing some meadows I reached la Balme where there is a designated bivouac area. The rules state that it's ok to stay here from dusk until dawn but not to camp for more than one night. This suited me perfectly and there was no one else around.

A cup of tea before bedtime

I brewed some tea and then my pasta dinner followed by more tea. As I drank my final cup of tea before bedtime I noticed that there was a fox stalking me - when I turned my headtorch towards it the fox ducked behind a boulder. It tried several different angles of attack before giving up.

The next morning I woke early and noted a little ice on my bivvy bag as I put the kettle on. This was a reminder that even in September frosts are common at 1,700m. I hadn't been cold in the night though as I was wearing thermals and wrapped in a decent down sleeping bag.

I was on the trail early, mostly pushing and doing a little carrying to reach my first target of the Col du Bonhomme. From here I had imagined that climb to the Col de la Croix du Bonhomme might be mostly rideable as it was only sloping gently upwards. This didn't turn out to be the case as it is strewn with boulders and the path is somewhat indistinct in places.

Col du Bonhomme first thing in the morning

The descent from the Croix du Bonhomme was excellent however. There were a couple of tiny snow patches to cross, but mostly the trail was in fine dry condition. I passed some walkers with their luggage on the back of mules here - 19th century style!

The descent brought me to les Chapieux and a road climb to the Mottets refuge where the ascent of the Col de la Seigne began in earnest. The first part of this climb was rideable (just) with an ok surface and steep gradient. Once my legs were cooked I was happy enough to push most of the rest of the climb.

Col de la Seigne

The descent from here was superb again with a fairly mellow start followed by more loose rock further down. The descent drops you into Val Veny - surely one of the most beautiful valleys in the alps. The incredible peak of the Aiguille Noire de Peuterey sticks out from the south ridge of Mont Blanc and the Miage glacier flows down into the valley.

Looking down into Val Veny

Soon it was time to start climbing again. While it would be easy to continue down the valley to Courmayeur from here I had read that the trails leading through the col Chécrouit were worth the extra climb. This also meant I would be sticking to the TMB walking route. The climb went on longer than I had expected, and was mostly too steep to ride. Being the third major climb of the day my legs were not too keen on so much hard work.

Val Veny

I reached the top very sweaty and got stuck in to the singletrack descent. This was fun and rewarding until I passed the Maison Vielle refuge which is in the heart of the Courmayeur ski area. From here there was a little more singletrack, then I found myself on a 4x4 track which is a piste in the winter. I turned off this down a steppy path which was not ideal for riding. I was a little disappointed with this part of the descent as I didn't feel I had got value for the large amount of height lost. Maybe I didn't find the best way down.

I grabbed a sandwich, some crisps and cake in Courmayeur and then continued up the road into Val Ferret. The walking TMB route goes over the hill from Courmayeur via the Bertone refuge, but from reading about other mountain bike attempts it seemed that this was not a popular biking route, so I had decided to skip this extra climb and follow the road.

As the day was starting to cool with evening approaching there was a strong catabatic wind blowing down the valley, so I was riding up the road into a headwind. Not the best finish to a great day on the bike, but by grinding on into it I managed to get to the perfect spot to attack the Grand Col Ferret first thing in the morning. I stopped just beyond the road end and set my bivvy up amongst some trees near the river. After cooking my dinner I went for a look at the river which had a picturesque foot bridge.

Almost bedtime on the second night

The next morning began with a ride up the well made 4x4 track to the shuttered-up Elena refuge. From here the path was mostly too steep to ride until the last few hundred metres to reach the Grand Col Ferret. There was some frost remaining up here where the sun had not yet hit the slopes, but the day was already warming up quickly.

Halfway up the very long climb of the Grand Col Ferret

The descent from this col must be one of the best anywhere. It's not particularly technical for most of the descent, but has some scary exposure, flowing singletrack and astounding views. It goes on almost for ever!

From the small town of Issert the climbing begins again, this time up to Champex Lac which is a lovely little town on the edge of  a pretty lake. The trail climbs through the trees passing mushrooms carved out of the tree stumps. Some is rideable, a lot of it is too steep and rooty.

After Champex Lac there is a short, technical rooty descent before the climb to Bovine commences. This is a beast of a climb with very steep sections which were actually difficult to push up without sliding back on the loose surface. The climb finally relents and brings you out to the pasture of Bovine. The farm and buvette were all shuttered up and the cows had made their biannual transhumance to the winter pastures. I stopped for a cereal bar and contemplated the view from this lovely mountainside down to the smoggy industrial Rhone valley.

The alpage of Bovine

A few more minutes of uphill brought me to the high point and the start of a brilliant swoopy, rooty, fun filled trail which took me all the way down to the Col de la Forclaz. This is a trail I am keen to ride again, but the only way to do that is an unsatisfying out-and-back from the Col de la Forclaz or to do the horrible push from Champex. Maybe I'll get round to it somehow.

To descend to Trient I couldn't see any permitted mountain bike route, so to avoid the very busy road I slowly and carefully followed the water-race which leads towards the Glacier du Trient (signed as being forbidden for bikes). From here I took the switch-backs which cross the road and eventually lead to Trient.

The TMB route from here back to Chamonix climbs up to the Col de Balme, then down to Tré le Champ before making its final climb to the Lac Blanc and along the Aiguilles Rouges. The climb from Tré le Champ involves ladders, so I had ruled this out immediately. The Col de Balme is accessible by chairlift from the other side, so I had no desire to push my laden bike up it from this side just for the sake of it.

My route was to follow the road to le Chatelet and then an off-road climb (all rideable) to the Col des Montets. From here it's possible to descend to Montroc off-road and then follow the petit balcon nord back to Chamonix.

I enjoyed the final valley trails to take me home in time for Sunday evening dinner. I arrived at work on Monday morning feeling more like I had had a week of adventures than just a weekend!

Cairngorms Overnighter April 2015

After a rainy and lonely, but very comfortable Friday night at the Bruar bothy I whizzed on my bike down to Blair Atholl and then trundled in the car up the A9 to meet Andy and Danijel at the Mountain Cafe in Aviemore.
Coffee and cake consumed and plans formed we were almost ready to go.
An hour later after a fruitless search for a replacement Boa fastener for my Specialized Rime shoe which had broken that morning we finally set off at almost midday.
The ride out to Glenmore was very pleasant and scenic. The light was lovely and Danijel who is from Slovenia was keen to capture some photos of the Scottish scenery. Fresh snow from the night before and fresh early spring colours made for some eye catching views.

We soon slowed down as we hit the steep climb up over the shoulder of Bynack Mor. All three of us were riding singlespeed bikes and carrying overnight gear, so the steep parts of this were unrideable and became a slightly more sociable push.

As we approached the top of the climb, which was to be the high point of our ride at just under 800m we started to encounter pockets of fresh snow from the previous night's snow showers. This turned to a covering of a few inches as we crossed the plateau. Danijel was on a custom titanium Moonman fat bike, while Andy was on his 29+ wheeled Pugsley. Both of these machines were in their element on the snow. I was on my usual 29 inch wheeled Shand, which was perhaps not so well suited, but managed to cope. In places the snow covered the stone faced drainage channels that cross the path, so these threw up some nasty surprises when the front wheel unexpectedly dropped several inches into them.

Soon after we began to descend I was enjoying a little speed and trying to catch up with the other two after stopping to take photos. As I approached one of the frequent stone water bars I braked and the front wheel skidded on the snow causing me to whack the front wheel into the stone. Straight away the front tyre began to hiss loudly, so I knew a repair would be required. The repair took a few minutes and a couple of anchovies to repair by which time my hands were freezing.

We pressed on, keen to get warm again, Andy and I pushing up the next hill while Danijel was able to ride most of it due to his low gearing and grippy fat bike tyres (not to mention a healthy chunk of skill and strength).
As I was approaching the Fords of Avon I glanced back and was unable to see the other two. When they still didn't appear after a few minutes I backtracked to find them and could see from a distance that Andy had suffered a mechanical as they were both leaning over his bike. Andy's aluminium seatpost had jammed in the steel frame many moons ago and had chosen this moment to snap right where it entered the frame. With no means of extracting the broken section Andy's only option was to ride with no seat, either turning back or carrying on to complete the loop. While turning back would have been much shorter it would have meant that Andy would have missed out on the rest of the ride. We therefore convinced him to keep going - 75km with no seatpost - no problem!
A few minutes later we reached the Fords of Avon and stopped for a break in the surprisingly warm sun outside the shelter.

The next obstacle was the ford itself - pretty much knee deep icy water. I employed the "stride straight through" technique while the other two went for the "shoes and socks off" option. The waters were icy cold which wasn't really a surprise as there was a large snow drift on the far bank of the river.

Once shoes and socks had been put back on we continued up to the Lairig and Laoigh where a fantastic view down into Glen Derry opens out.

The clouds sweeping across the skies were illuminating the glen with bright patches of light which made the spring colours even more spectacular.

The descent to Derry lodge was enjoyed by all of us, although the water bars do interrupt the flow of the trail somewhat, most of them can be negotiated with minimal hassle once you get a feel for them. Some require extreme commitment and a well timed bunny hop meaning that a stop and dismount option is usually better on a laden bikepacking rig. Some of the stream crossings have become rather more interesting since the flash flooding of autumn 2014 washed out many of the crossings and the bridge at Derry Lodge (since replaced with a temporary structure) although none of this caused us any problems.
We hit the tarmac at the Linn of Dee for about 50 metres before diving back off road and heading up the glen and taking the Geldie burn tributary. The track was somewhat dull at this point, and not easy progress as we had turned west and into the wind. Andy was starting to suffer quite a bit due to not being able to sit down. This is the kind of riding where sitting down to pedal is really useful!
The track climbed very slowly until eventually we turned off the 4x4 track and onto singletrack which would take us over the watershed. This track has quite a few boggy spots, but also some quite rewarding bits of riding.

We had startled some red deer as we rode along this section, and we kept catching glimpses of a few of them just on the horizon running away from us. After a few minutes we noticed that every deer in the glen seemed to have gathered together below us - there must have been over 100 of them going for the safety in numbers strategy.
As we began to descend into Glen Feshie the sun was just finishing setting and Andy and Danijel were questioning me about how far we had to go and how long it would take. I had to admit that although I had walked this trail before about 10 years ago I had never ridden it and had little idea how long it would take. I tried my best to make an estimate that wouldn't give them false hope or dishearten them too much.

The trail took us over a bridge just above a spectacular waterfall and I stopped for a few photographs.
Andy's suffering was increasing and he just wanted to be done by this stage, so  he wasn't too impressed by the waterfall.
As we continued past an ancient shack the riding became smooth singletrack which sometimes turned to braided slivers of trail through the heather and offered up multiple choices. Eventually we ended up following a land rover track which crossed several fords in the by now quite large river Feshie. We avoided crossing these by climbing the ancient path on the steep side of the glen - although damaged by landslides the path is still passable with care, but not all rideable.
The light had by now faded to almost nothing so we put our lights on for the final ride in to the bothy.
The glen eventually widened out and the tree cover increased which I recognised as a sign that we were nearly there. A final splash through a small ford and the shape of the bothy emerged from the trees with a dull glow from the windows.
It was 9.45pm and it had been a long day of riding - especially for Andy with no seat! We were all hungry, so I fired up the stove and got some pasta on the go straight away. Stupidly we had only brought two sporks between three of us so Danijel improvised a spoon from an empty squeezy cheese tube and we dug in. Hot food can't be beaten after a long day on the hill.
Once we'd munched all the pasta and topped up with some extra cheese and oatcakes we had a wee tipple of whisky and got to know some of our fellow bothy dwellers a bit better.
Bothying can often result in meeting some interesting characters and this night was no exception! A group from the north east of England were in residence when we arrived and had consumed a prodigious amount of alcohol by the time we joined them.

At some point we noticed that the skies had cleared and went out to indulge in some late night photography before finally getting into our sleeping bags.

The next morning after coffee and sausages we made our way out to Feshiebridge and then on through the forest to be back in Aviemore just before midday.
Andy was most relieved to finally be able to sit down in the cafe after riding about 75km with no seat.
The numbers for the whole ride were 97km with just under 1,600m of height gain. Moving time according to the GPS was 8 hours 10 minutes out of the almost 24 hours we were out. A grand overnight trip!