Golf has become a slight habit of mine recently, a ‘fling with the dark arts’ perhaps you could call it. But at least I don’t play golf of the walk–around–a–course–in–tartan type of affair; more that I hit balls in an attempted straight line as far as I can (most call this the ‘driving range’). So it was to my pleasure that, on opening the door of our bothy for the weekend, my first greeting was that of a seven–iron. An evening session of hitting stones across the adjacent river was enough to free any man’s mind from unnecessary stress in life.

Perhaps, however, the club had an alternate purpose. Our second greeting was from the permanent inhabitants – mice, and plenty of them. As I cannot imagine there to be many bothies of superior quality or of sounder construction, these rodents have the run of quite a palace; a downstairs kitchen, sitting room and ‘atrium’ (OK, it is still a bothy and basic at best, but as far as mountain shelters go this one is of fine attributes); upstairs two bedrooms and a view to die for.

There is nothing more warming, calming and comforting than a brew. A cup of tea can do wonders for the morale but it can also create a lengthy diversion from more constructive ways to spend one’s time. This is only a problem if ‘one’ is being assigned to create a dynamic feature for a dynamic magazine. Our couple of mornings (that is, entire mornings) spent drinking cups of tea brewed up by Andy’s fair hands were perhaps not quite as Dirt editor Mike Rose had envisaged this ‘high mountain epic adventure’, but when the weather is so rarely that perfect one would have to be bonkers to not soak up some rays and sup a fresh, sweet PG Tips flavoured with condensed milk. Jolly good, old chap.

Riding bikes off–road was never intended to be easy or to take place on designer trails; ‘real’ off–roading has always meant tech, not sanitised. For that reason it was a great pleasure to be riding the absolute opposite style of trail to those that Scotland has become famed for. There are thousands of miles of natural singletrack and tech–heavy downhills all over the country and we are all free to ride each and every inch of them thanks to Scotland’s forward–thinking and bike–friendly roaming laws.

The climb from our abode to the summit of a nearby ‘Munro’ on day 1 was more than challenging, in parts it was nigh–on impossible. We took our time to work our way up the mountainside and set ourselves targets through trials–esque sections of bedrock and boulders. And what a way to make a mole hill out of a mountain…before we knew it we were cresting high above our start point, gazing over the far away lochs and distant ocean and looking across to the adjacent snow capped peaks…what a special moment.

I’ve never felt so disconnected from civilisation and yet so close to it and its bad habits as when Andy dug out the lunch that we had prepared prior to our depart; tortilla wraps, hummus, cheese, olives and chorizo…I suppose it would have been ‘epic’ to sustain ourselves on more torturous or foraged foods, but there is no better time for a little home comfort than when you’re sat in minus–degree winds atop a cold and unforgiving mountain. We tucked in and savoured the handful of minutes that we could afford to spend in such a place; in an environment like the Highlands time can work against you and we had one hell of a ride ahead if we were to make it off the mountain before dark…of course the tea–making facilities being located at the bothy were somewhat of a draw too…>>