What’s Britain’s lakiest day ride? A circuit that makes sense, on quiet roads with good scenery, which visits as many lakes as possible? A bike trip which, short of doing it with Laura Laker and a Los Angeles basketball team to a soundtrack by ELP’s bassist, couldn’t be any more lakey?
I’m doing this for another article. My first thought that it would be in the Lake District, but after a lot of map-gazing, I reckon the Trossachs – those lush, loch-strewn hills north of Glasgow – has the most blue-splodged area on the British map.
My route is a day ride starting and finishing in the tourist town of Callander, taking in a dozen lochs: Rusky, Menteith, Ard, Dhu, Chon, Arklet, Lomond, Katrine, Arkaig, Drunkie, Venachar and Lubnaig. Research pace is slower than normal riding pace, so I took two days over it, doing Rusky to Katrine first, then Katrine to Lubnaig. Here’s how the first day went…
Loch 1: Rusky
A mile or two south of Callander is the small fishing opportunity of Loch Rusky – pronounced roooo-ski, like the Russian word for Russian. I couldn’t get all that close to it; it’s fenced off from the road and inaccessible to the public. So no skinny dipping for me in its freezing waters while chugging vodka and saying, ‘You in west have too easy life! When everything hard it make people strong!’
Not much to see, unless presumably you can score a fishing permit, but here on the hilltop of the surprisingly quiet A81 you have a fine view down below over the Lake of Menteith, next up.
Loch 2: (Lake of) Menteith
Locals tell you this picturesque water is the only lake in Scotland – all the others are lochs, lochans or whatever. That’s not quite true, as Wikipedia explains, but it’s a lovely place to visit. A pub with well-tabled beer garden sits right on the eastern shore, and I enjoyed a good coffee watching a couple of anglers fishing wetly from drizzled boats on the choppy grey waves.
An ancient monastery sits on one of the loch’s islands, and when it freezes over in winter, curling tournaments are held. In our warming world, though, that may never happen again: the last one was in 1979.
Loch 3: Ard
I rode through Aberfoyle and stopped briefly at the friendly cycle cafe, who supplied me with a handy map that included all my lochs. Shortly beyond, to the west, is Loch Ard, a standard-issue Trossachs-pattern lake.
The road photogenically hugs the northern shore for a long stretch from the accessible eastern end. Even more shotworthy was a group of stand-up paddleboarders. I couldn’t hear any of their jokes, though.
Loch 4: Dhu
This was a pleasant surprise. The tiny loch is easy to miss on maps, and while planning the route, I’d overlooked it. I could only glimpse it here and there, and the shore looked a marshy squelch away. The back lane I was riding was pretty rough in places – some of the potholes threatened to take on a new life as lochs in their own right – but I still preferred it to the offroad alternative to the south of these lakes, the Statute Labour Road.
Loch 5: Chon
Pronounced ‘Con’, this is nevertheless another trusty loch, pleasantly framed by mountains and hills, and with easy access at its eastern end among other places for a waterside picnic or quick wild swim. (No, I didn’t: it was rainy and cold, and I didn’t have a nice warm car to get back into.)
The back road now headed northeast through woods and over gentle slopes, but its surface was still as ropey as a piece of old rope that wasn’t even worth money.
Loch 6: Arklet
The scenery suddenly got a little moortop-ish and austere, and Arklet’s expansive loch, surrounded by peaks, sprawled out in front of me. Like several waters here it has been adapted as a reservoir, and serves the good people of Glasgow with plenty to drink. Perhaps go with their whisky.
Which means it’s fenced off and you can’t swim in it, though it wasn’t the sort of day for that sort of thing anyway. I followed the scenic cul-de-sac road to its final plummet down to the shores of the next loch…
Loch 7: Lomond
The legendary loch is known for its ‘bonnie banks’, mentioned in a famous song: ‘O ye’ll tak’ the high road, and I’ll tak’ the low road, And I’ll be in Scotland afore ye, But me and my true love will never meet again, For her Garmin’s packed in and she doesn’t know how to read a map, And she’s got herself lost on the cycle route on the other bank of Loch Looooooooomond.’
Anyway, a hairpin descent threw me down from the high road of Arklet to the low road of the lakeside hotel at Inversnaid, where dozens of walkers were sitting around with packs off waiting for the ferry across to the opposite shore. There’s a bar, restaurant, rooms etc, and special entrances for walkers. I was now a walker myself: I had to retrace my steps back up the road I just came down, and the only way to ascend the 1 in 4 with a fully laden camping-touring bike was to push it.
Loch 8: Katrine
‘Kat-trin’ is another famous loch, and arguably the one which started off the whole Scottish Tourism thing. Sir Walter Scott’s 1810 poem Lady of the Lake was set here; it went viral, and suddenly there were thousands of visitors writing postcards home saying things like ‘Notwithstanding the verisimilitude of the topographic magnificence to that of Scott’s narrative tour de force, I’m bored lol miss u hun xx.’
It’s a fabulous place, with a super little cafe at the western end. Here is Stronachlachar, the pier from where boats go in season to the other end of the lake.
Most attractively, there’s a road running all round the northern shore which is closed to traffic (except the handful of locals who have splendid shoreline villa houses) but open to bikes.
It was now sunny and warm, and I was in T-shirt at last instead of hurricane-proof jacket. I cycled slowly and joyfully along the road enjoying the views that so inspired Walt all to myself – not least because the unspoilt tarmac was the smoothest of the whole day.
I wildcamped on Brenachoile Point along with four other cyclists or walkers, and about twenty million midges. The scenery was unforgettable and stayed with me for days. Ditto the itching from the bites.
Miles today: 50