Scotland's epic 210-mile bikepacking adventure

The Badger Divide lets bikepackers wind, climb, dip and slalom through some of Scotland's most stunning scenery by day, and wild camp along its moors, glens and lochs at night.

"Are you doing the Badger?" asked a fellow passenger at Perth station as I waited for my train to Inverness.

"What gave me away?" I replied, standing with a mountain bike fully loaded with gear.

"The size of your wheels," he said. "Good luck; you'll need it."

The "Badger" in question, officially known as The Badger Divide, is a 210-mile off-road route that winds, climbs, dips and slaloms through the Scottish Highlands from Inverness to Glasgow. Along the way, it passes through some of Scotland's greatest lochs (including Ness and Laggan), most expansive glens, least touched moorland, richest forests and the 25-mile Corrieyairack mountain pass.

The route attracts a growing number of long-distance, off-road cyclists who carry their gear with them on two wheels. Known as "bikepackers", these self-propelled adventurers are eager to test their physical and mental resolve on the Badger while also getting to sleep under the stars, wild camp at lochs and experience remote landscapes.

But for all its splendour, the trail isn't found on any official map or signpost.

Conceived by Scottish cyclist Stuart Allan roughly eight years ago, the route weaves together public rights of way, old drovers' roads, farm tracks, forest paths and remnants of 18th-Century military roads to connect the Lowlands and Highlands. Allan designed the Badger for friends, but as word of its varied terrain, sights and accessibility have spread, it's become a destination for bikepackers.

"I've had people come from Australia, a couple from Canada and many weekends I get messages to say a group is coming to do it, asking questions," said Allan. "The route came along when people were figuring out what bikepacking was all about, and it's just stuck." 

And the odd name? 

"At the time, the Baja Divide (a bikepacking route in Mexico) was the big new thing. And one of my friends mispronounced 'Baja' as 'Badger', so another friend suggested we call it the Badger Divide," Allan explained.

The Badger is typically ridden southbound, with cyclists starting at Inverness Castle and finishing at Kelvingrove Art Gallery and Library in Glasgow. I was tackling it over five days in May, hoping for good weather and avoiding Scotland's infamous midges that come out to bite each summer.

There are easier ways to enjoy Scotland, but bikepacking's allure is the mix of adventure, camping and off-road trails that take you to places no car can reach. While cycle touring (which is on paved roads) has been popular for decades, bikepacking has grown in popularity in recent years thanks to more affordable off-road bikes and gear.

After a night at the Inverness Youth Hostel, I started pedalling towards the hills above Loch Ness' northerly shore. Ahead of me were two nights of wild camping, a stay in a Forestry Scotland campsite, a glamping pod and more than 17,000ft of elevation. 

My first day was largely spent pedalling along a dirt track through a thick forest of pine, hazel, oak and birch. As I burst over gorse moorland along Loch Ness' shore, I caught glimpses of a lake so big it holds more water than all of the lakes in England and Wales combined, before later enjoying its full blue glory as I approached Fort Augustus.  

"Beautiful weather," a French hiker remarked to me, as she and her family stopped at one of the viewpoints overlooking the loch. "It's too hot; prefer it colder," a local Scot had jokingly complained minutes earlier.

According to Rosie Baxendine, a guide who leads bikepacking and cycling trips across Scotland, biking through these remote landscapes is an unforgettable experience no matter the weather.

"I love Scotland when she's moody," Baxendine told me. "I remember riding over the Corrieyairack Pass in June, coming up through the clouds and it was snowing at the top. The power of Scotland's wild nature leaves me more speechless than a beautiful day."

Much of my what made my journey through Scotland's great glens, its big estates (including Ardverikie and Corrour) and under its star-filled skies so memorable was thanks to the nation's  Outdoor Access Code. This gives everyone access to explore and wild camp in the nation's hills, beaches, rivers, moorland, forests and lochs, so long as they do so responsibly.

I didn't see a soul for nearly four hours as I ground my way up the Corrieyairack Pass on day two. Loch Ness dwindled to a dot while a parade of giant electricity pylons in the valley below felt like sentinels judging my slow progress.

"Remember to look up," Baxendine had told me. "So many people get caught up in speed or in how much it's hurting." As I inched up the pass, I took her advice, stopping to enjoy the views. Just yards from the trail was a wild deer grazing near the vibrant yellow gorse.

My bikepacking adventure was full of special moments like these: flying down a forest track with mad abandon near Aberfoyle; falling asleep in my tent to the sound of water lapping on the shores of Loch Ness; marvelling at the white sands of Loch Laggan and Lochan na h-Earba; and pedalling along the gravel tracks skirting the mighty crags of Creagan nan Nead and Creagan nan Ghabar.

As I cruised along the glorious Road to the Isles towards Corrour Station under clear blue skies on day three, the only sounds I heard were the crunch of my tyres on the gravel and the distinctive thrum of the common snipe's vibrating tail feathers. 

I felt as though I had Scotland all to myself.

The UK's highest railway station, Corrour, sits nestled below the foot of Leum Uilleim mountain, just beyond the shores of Loch Ossian. As I neared and looked west, the snowcapped summit of Ben Nevis, the UK's tallest mountain, appeared. The station is now a request stop for the Caledonian Sleeper train that travels between Aberdeen and London, and its cafe has become a hub for hikers and cyclists.

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There, I met two southbound solo Badger riders: Stuart Cooper from Preston, and Scotsman Ian King, from Coldstream. Over two hours and a hearty Scottish breakfast, we swapped tales from the trail and explained what led each of us here.

"It's the freedom. That's why I love bikepacking. You pick your route, you stop when you want to stop," said Cooper, who has cycled across much of Asia and South America and made a last-minute decision to embark on the Badger because of the good weather. "I wanted to experience the spectacular scenery of the Scottish Highlands, which has been stunning, getting better and better as the ride has gone on." 

For King, who was nearing his 73rd birthday, the inspiration had come from his son, who had done the route some years before.

"He had shown me photos; gave me lots of advice," he said. "My highlight has been the Corrieyairack Pass. Not the summit, but the first section looking back at the incredible scenery."

Both men would complete the route far faster than I did. But even after parting ways, I was able to follow their tyre tracks above the vast and brooding Great Moor of Rannoch for miles before eventually falling asleep in my tent at the basic but pleasant Kilvrecht Campsite near Loch Rannoch.

Day four started with a challenging pedal up a narrow, forested valley as the trickling sounds of the river below slowly faded away. A rolling and rough track across moorland eventually led to Glen Lyon, Scotland's largest enclosed glen. Here a sinewy road alongside the River Lyon took me to a sharp ascent up the Kenknock Pass with a lovely freewheel into the picturesque town of Killin.

My respite was short, however. The Badger dragged me along rough timber logging roads before I was able to enjoy another tree-lined and shady track that would take me to the town of Callander and my glamping pod. The pods are part of the youth hostel in the town, and though small, they boast a double bed, kitchenette, shower room and terrace with glorious views of Ben Ledi, the highest mountain in the Loch Lomond and The Trossachs National Park.

Buoyed by my glamping experience and knowing the last miles of the Badger into Glasgow were the easiest of the trip, I rode along the sun-filled shores of Loch Venachar in great spirits on my final day. Amidst the trees, I spied a group of cyclists emerging from their tents after a night wild camping.

"Are you doing the Badger?" one of them asked me. They were on day two of their north-bound Badger journey.

I grinned from ear to ear. "Pretty much done it," I replied. "You're going to have the greatest trip."

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