The Power of a Pivot: Abandoning the Badger Divide
Until April 25th, I was a program manager. Maybe I’ll go back to doing that after our travels—although, who knows, anything is possible. But the traits that made me good at (and even enjoy) my former job are still very much with me.
That is to say: I am a planner.
As we were packing up to leave San Francisco, Daniel griped that I was trying to project manage our trip. He wants it to be spontaneous and flexible—as long as we’re literally moving in the right direction, he doesn’t really care how we get there and will always want to detour for something interesting. I want it to be those things too... after I’ve had sufficient time to prepare, research, and plan so I have some sense of what I’m walking (er, riding) into.
The Planned Ride
I started my ride in Glasgow, linking up with my friends Mindy and Sarah, who I met on the Komoot Women’s Arizona Rally last November. Mindy was flying in from Canmore, Alberta, while Sarah was our local; she’s based in beautiful Fort William in the Scottish Highlands. Mindy and I had done most of the planning for this trip and mapped out an ambitious route. We wanted to ride the 213-mile Badger Divide bikepacking route from Glasgow to Inverness, with a bonus add-on of the Outer Cairngorms Loop: an additional 125 miles and 6,650 feet in climbing. All together, the routes added up to 374 miles (600 km) with 23,850 ft (7,270 m) of elevation.
By our math, we had plenty of time to finish it and ‘just’ needed to average about 40 miles a day. We’d ridden longer days and similar elevation in Arizona. So our spirits were high as we convened at the Youth Hostel in Glasgow.
Day 1: Glasgow to Callandar
Day 1 more or less went according to plan. Getting out of Glasgow was chaotic, full of traffic and busy roads, compounded by a Wahoo reroute that dumped us on a busy two-lane road for a while. The shared pedestrian paths were packed too, with folks walking on both the left and right sides without rhyme or reason (plus a few unpredictable unleashed dogs).
But we made it to the inn we’d booked 46 miles into the route. After a warm welcome from the friendly innkeeper, we feasted on burgers and Cokes to celebrate.
Day 1 Total: 46 miles / 3,904 ft elevation
Day 2: Into the Highlands
This was the day the Scottish Highlands started to show their true colors. We planned to ride 50 miles to reach Kilvrecht Campsite, with two big climbs towards the end.
As the afternoon slid into evening, I saw more and more tents dotting the hills: people wild camping in line with Scotland's Outdoor Access Code. As we passed each one, I wistfully thought: that could be us, cooking a hot dinner on our campstoves, warming our faces with rays of sun, and finally watching the sun dip over sheep-dotted pastures.
But we pushed on.
The second climb wasn't as steep as the first, but something in the terrain had shifted. Chunky rocks made up the path, demanding a careful line of travel. Spring-fed puddles appeared, muddy banks leading in and out of the dark water. The forest road turned to singletrack, so narrow and overgrown with grass that our pedals caught and stopped in motion. It felt like I had crossed from gravel riding into mountain biking territory. It was challenging to ride and slow going. I watched the sun cross the sky—and then set—somewhere high on a ridge above the Bridge of Balgie that day.
We didn't reach camp until 8:30 pm—and despite being told it was too early in the season for them, the midgies were out in full force. They bit every part of my exposed skin, fingers, and scalp—even up and down the parting in my hair. I retreated to the safety of my tent without dinner, jotted down some tired thoughts, and went straight to sleep.
Day 2 Total: 51 miles / 4,367 ft elevation
Day 3: Corrour, and a Turning Point
This was the day I started formulating my bailout plan. We had 27 miles to ride to Corrour Station House to meet Sarah for lunch. It sounded easy enough at the time, but those turned out to be some of the toughest miles I’ve ever ridden.
It became clear I'd underestimated the terrain. I expected rough bits, but so much of it was more technical than I was ready for, physically or mentally.
The rolling hills—while awe-inspiring and impossibly beautiful—were relentless. I could never get into a good rhythm of climbing or descending. It wasn’t one long climb; in some ways, if ‘up’ is the only way you’re heading, you can gird your legs and steel yourself for the task ahead. But it was dozens of short, arduous climbs, followed by descents. And even those descents—normally a fun, freewheeling reward—were tricky, requiring precise lines through rocky sections and potholes. As it was, I nearly fell twice. I was able to stay upright, but these were reminders to not get complacent on this route.
I knew I couldn’t sustain the pace and mileage I needed to in order to finish the route and still have fun while doing it. My right knee was starting to ache on climbs. I took an Advil and pushed on, but the lingering pain worried me. Could I push through? Maybe. But would I enjoy it if I was racing daylight every day? Is that the experience I wanted from my time in Scotland?
Ultimately, I decided the answer was ‘no.’
I wanted to take my time through towns. I wanted to stop for conversations with strangers and the indulgent scone with clotted cream. And it didn’t feel like that was possible with the route we had set and the timeline at hand.
Day 3 Total: 48 miles, 3,245 ft elevation
Day 4-5: Back to My Regularly Scheduled Dilly-Dallying
Once I knew I'd be bailing after Day 5, everything felt lighter. These days were lighter on miles and elevation, but I also felt relieved.
I’d been warned that once you pass Aviemore there are no easy exits: no trains on that part of the route and limited roads. Luckily, Sarah also needed to return to her home in Fort William, so her parents were planning to pick her up after their own bike ride one day. I could hitch a ride with them and then take a train back to Glasgow. Mindy would continue on solo, ultimately spending five more nights in the Cairngorms and on the Badger Divide. (She's a total badass.)
Those final two days were full of highlights:
- Wild camping in a moss-filled clearing
- Seeing a highland ‘coo’ up close
- Some friendly horses that trotted up to see if we had snacks (we did not)
- Visiting the Osprey Center at Loch Garten (now officially called the ‘Nature Centre,’ as they’ve branched out beyond just ospreys)
We got some osprey tea at Loch Garten. The nest had just been abandoned by the original female osprey that started the season in it. Her mate wasn’t bringing her enough fish, so she got fed up and left! A new female had moved in two weeks earlier. So far, this one's suitor seemed to be doing a better job keeping her fed and happy.
My final night in the Highlands was spent at Camusdarach Beach. We fired up our campstoves for ramen al fresco on the beach and watched the sun set over the water. On the walk back to the car, the full moon was already visible, bright and low over the dunes. It was a magical ending to my experience in Scotland.
Days 4 and 5 Total: 53 miles, 2,451 ft elevation
What I Learned
These five days made it clear what kind of experience I actually want from this trip.
I love to dilly-dally. I love long conversations about everything and nothing in particular. I want to admire all the gangly lambs gallivanting around pastures. I want time—to stop, to snack, to rest, to be still with myself and my thoughts sometimes.
Of course, I did some of this on the route—I had to, to sustain myself. But I was always aware of the cost.
When I realized I was struggling, I leaned on my friends back home. I told them how I was doing and was honest about my challenges. They encouraged me to do what felt right. There was no judgment in their messages, just unadulterated support. Any embarrassment or shame I might have felt for ‘quitting’ soon dissipated. I knew I was making the right decision for myself and my body.
And I'm grateful for the friends I experienced Scotland with. For Mindy—for her boundless spirit, positivity, and encouragement. For Sarah—for her generosity with her time and local knowledge. For her parents, who gave us the lift. These instances of friendship and kindness stay with you.
I'm now writing this from Netherlands, which could not be more opposite from Scotland: flat as a pancake, paved cycle paths abound. My knee pain is gone. Some rest and a few bike fit tweaks seemed to help.
My first day in the Netherlands, I rode from Amsterdam to Utrecht. I stopped at a juice shop for an acai bowl and a coffee. I sat outside in the sun with nowhere to be. It was the most relaxed I'd been on the bike yet.
I think I’ll always be a planner at heart. But I’m learning that sometimes, the best plan is the one that leaves your options open... and sometimes, the rides that teach you the most are the ones you don't finish.
