With the last few days being cold and crisp, I was keen to give the Whangie a go. It’s been a while and the possibility of the normally boggy top track being a wee bit firmer than usual appealled. Despite the perfect winter conditions, a paltry six folk showed up at the club. Seriously, 6? WTF!
Despite the potentially ideal conditions on offer, Iain decided to opt for the urban route. Excuses made, it was left to Donald, Chris and I to fly the Whangie flag and off we went. The spin up the Westie was lovely, the cobbled climb from the golf course despatched with ease. For the punter in the tent by Craigallion, it may have come as a surprise as the flashing lights whizzed by him but we were on a mission. Keen to make the most of the night, we climbed up and over Carbeth for the swoopy singletrack descent to the pub. It was without doubt in the best nick I have ever ridden it. No mud with just the right level of grip. To say we flew down would be an understatement.
A spin up the road passed by some pleasingly courteous drivers took us to the steep climb up the back of the hill to the radio mast with added deer fence faffage. Hitting the boggy grass track, what we instead found was a hard packed, fast rolling trail that took us all the way to the summit. Each of us took it in turns to wax lyrical about the trail. As Donald pointed out, it’s never this good. For me, thoughts turned to trails across the Campsies and Touch Hills being in nick. The discussion turned to my planned route going over Earls Seat to Fintry, up the Touch Hills to Gargunnock and Cambusbarron before a return leg via the Meikle Bin and the Knockie Buckle. A big day for sure but one to do soon.
Stopping for a lights off, star gazing session at the trig point, none of us could quite believe our luck. It was completely still as we reflected upon how a spell of great weather can make all the difference to familiar trails. Eschewing the usual low path back, I persuaded the guys to give the high path a go. As the Knight in Indiana Jones puts it, we choose wisely. As a descent along the edge of the hill it’s neither steep nor technical but the conditions had transformed it into a mad giggle of a sprint to the rock step corridor by the broken old style. We were enjoying Moneysupermarket levels of epicness. A familiar trail transformed into something a bit special.
Hitting the rock drops, I led with Donald close behind as we picked our line down. Chris followed in close order and played a blinder all the way down. I think it’s fair to say he even surprised himself by riding what has the potential to really hurt if you get your line choice wrong.
A quick blast down to the road and a fence hop took us into Auchengillan for the second big descent of the evening. Again, we were treated to trails in perfect condition with none of us in a rush back to the club. None of us were quite ready to call it a night at this point and to be honest, it would be rude not to ride until our lights failed! A spin back past the tent and we were soon on the riverbank trails which again were in the best condition I’ve seen them in years.
“Up the rocky rooty?” Aye was the response for the technical climb followed by a cheeky steep singletrack descent off the moor to the Westie below. Regrouping, Donald and I waited for Chris. And waited. And then waited some more. Cue a walk back up the trail to eventually find Chris who had taken a different route part way down. If anyone was out walking, they’re probably still wondering who calls their dog Chris! Back together, a final descent saw us back on the road for the return home. Waiting for the lights at Tesco, Chris’s techometer registered empty as he went from track stand to crumpled heap on the tarmac. Fortunately, only his pride was hurt as Donald and I pissed ourselves laughing one we realised he was ok.
To sum the ride up in one word? Brilliant!
