There was a faint whiff of coconut as I cycled along the roads of the Highlands of Scotland at the weekend. It wasn’t an interesting scented shampoo, or an odd choice of drink while on the bike, but instead the endless gorse which carpets much of the land up there. It was one of many reminders that I might not have required my passport, but I was in a very different place to my usual riding around Bristol, in south-west England. That coconut smell kept me grounded as I tackled my next adventure on Sunday: the Etape Loch Ness.
The sportive offers a reasonably simple prospect, even if it is one that has become all too rare in the UK - around 6,000 people covering 106km on beautiful, closed roads around Loch Ness, starting and finishing in Inverness, with one big climb and lots of punchy roads elsewhere. Due to RideLondon taking a year off, it is actually the biggest closed road sportive in the UK this year by entrants, not just in Scotland. While other events have been put on hiatus or disappeared due to a mix of local politics, concerned residents, the general cycling industry downturn or the costs of organising such things, the Etape Loch Ness has just chugged along.
Now in its 11th year, it is run by London Marathon Events - who also are behind RideLondon - but it still retains its community, local feel, with scores of enthusiastic volunteers out on the course. It made you feel actually welcome, and part of something bigger than yourself, which is always useful at a mass participation event. There were of course speedy people on expensive machines, but all sorts of people on all sorts of bikes testing themselves. Unlike the Tour of Flanders sportive, which I rode earlier this month, it didn’t feel as brutal, or full of people pretending to be Tadej Pogačar, which was a relief.
It was an early start due to road closures, and I was waiting to ride from about half five in the morning, but any grumbling about my lack of sleep was quickly forgotten in the adrenaline rush of the départ. There’s something special about setting off in a big group, with waves of 300 being let loose on the course at once, and for a brief moment, you can imagine what it’s like at the start of an actual bike race, although that quickly dissipated.
For some reason - not because of bravado - I was put in the first wave, and was even in the first 300 people to set off, because of misfortune rather than keenness. I was in there with the people wanting to win the sportive, those with their elbows out just to get to the front of the bunch before we’d even set off. I was there for a nice morning out, so this felt a tad incongruous.
A blur of overtakes were the theme of the first 25km, as those taking the event rather more seriously than me took their chance to head up the road. I was content to follow rather than lead, finding myself skirting Loch Ness in groups which towed me along against the prevailing wind. Not being used to riding in such large masses, I often found myself leaving my companions behind as the road headed uphill, only to be caught again as the gradient lowered.
The lack of traffic and overwhelming number of riders was special, with snatched conversations with fellow cyclists joyful, bringing some warmth on a Scottish morning. The views of Loch Ness and the surrounding forest never stopped bringing a smile to my face either, and I won’t have been alone in wanting to take a photograph of every metre of the ride. It was stunning the whole way round.
Around the halfway mark, the climb from Fort Augustus to Loch Tarff and beyond hoved into view. At 7.6km long at 4.7%, it sounded hard but eminently doable, but there were sections up to 18.7% along the way, especially on the first part. Riding up with so many people was a joy, and it gave extra motivation for the mildly competitive cyclist in me, as I ground my way up Glendoe; I am glad to say that I was only overtaken once on the climb. It was tough without being too tricky, and whatever speed people did it in, there was a real sense of achievement at the top.
The final 40km saw the prettiest roads, as the event shifted to winding country lanes on the opposite side of Loch Ness, with a thankful tailwind (not always supplied). The run back into Inverness was a dream, with the ride never feeling too much of a slog. It might have been almost four hours of riding, but it really didn’t feel like it. At Flanders, I was on the bike for almost six hours, and was cooked; less than four hours in the saddle at the Etape Loch Ness felt a lot friendlier, and it felt a bit more inclusive as a result. Maybe it was the Brit-heavy makeup of the riders, too, but it all felt a bit more together and less like thousands of people doing their own thing on crowded roads.
If you wanted to stop, there were plenty of opportunities to do so, with bountiful spreads on offer - shout-out to a macaroni pie for keeping me going. It felt local, and sustainable, but they were also prepared to feed the 5,000. The volunteers were amazing, with seemingly endless cheer for us cyclists, and so much support from locals too, which included a man parked up in his camper van blaring dance music inside the final 20km. I’m not sure I’ll ever be applauded on a bike as much as I was on Sunday, and I’ll tell you what, it was a nice feeling. The only let down was a lack of the Loch Ness monster - if you don’t see it while your brain is addled from hard exercise, when will you?
It is a shame that events like this are a rarity on British roads, with the amount of red tape and wrangling to go through to put it on, as this kind of thing should be experienced by all cyclists. You don’t have to go abroad or somewhere extreme to have this kind of fun - and also feel like you’ve done something big. Sure, you can race it, but you’ll have an even better time if you chat to some people around you, stop for a pie and really savour the event. It’s enough to make you fall in love with cycling.
My thoughts go out to the friends and family of the rider who died after he was hit by a car driver - horrible news to hear post-event.
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If you want to get in touch with Adam, email adam.becket@futurenet.com, or comment below.
