Some journeys are about the paths you follow; others are about the destination. And then there are those that are about something deeper: a sense of connection to one’s surroundings—an individual sense of belonging in pursuit of the true meaning of the word ‘home’. Join Fizik ambassador Emily MacKenzie on her recent four-day bikepacking trip across the Scottish Highlands as she explores her unique connection with her father’s homeland while navigating the emotional experience of taking on such a personal excursion.
DAY 1: SETTING OUT ON THE RIGHT PATH
How do you tell the difference between being nervous and excited? One last breakfast at the hotel, then we packed our bags and took with us only the essentials for what we needed on the next five days. Edinburgh saying farewell with grey skies and some headwind. It felt easy, natural, riding along the beach towards the Forth Bridge. Sea gulls following along, I couldn’t stop but smile and feel light even though the bike was moving heavily and steady underneath me.
I have never done anything like this before. There were so many things I feared, so many things that could go wrong, but most of all I was scared of coming back to Germany. Of an ending, of arriving. I had so many questions, but all I could do is wait. And ride. And trust. The simultaneity of emotions was overwhelming.
Our first destination was Perth. 80 km, enough time to give myself a minute to realise what we’re doing. We went over the bridge, up north, through mud and through mist, through rain and some place that felt like nowhere. As the miles passed, I was able to breathe more deeply and look around, properly, and when we arrived at this lovely old house, I knew I was on the right path.
DAY 2: FINDING FAMILIARITY ON NEW ROADS
We woke up to blue skies and coffee. The seagulls once again wishing us a good morning. 50km to Pitlochry. Passed some lovely old stone walls and a castle in the middle of nowhere, we entered Dunkeld on a trail that was supposed to be for a mountain bike. After we enjoyed some great coffee at Aran’s bakery, the weather got magical. We stopped at the river as it started raining just when the sun came out at the same time. It was as if my emotions were mirrored by the sky.
It really is the little things for me that makes me feel so much at home. It’s the language, the air, the nature, the snacks, my nervous system immediately calming down. But the closer we got to our final destination, the more I felt the tension in my whole body. And by that, I not only mean the signals every inch of my body gave me, telling me, I probably should’ve been stretching more in the past months. It’s more the tension of some elastic material just before it rips apart.
After finishing the last kilometres on tarmac, we arrived in Pitlochry. It all came out that evening, tears streaming down my face, emotions that built up throughout the day. The quietness I felt when I lay in bed — without the distraction of a tv show or a busy mind telling what task of my to-do-list there is unfinished — let the realisation of where I am be as clear as ice. I’m approaching my own sense of belonging mile by mile. And alongside of being excited about views, snacks and dogs, I can sense that feeling of ‘belonging’ expanding in my chest.
DAY 3: OFF THE BEATEN TRACKS
That morning, I felt more anxious than usual. After some bad sleep, I checked the route repeatedly, already knowing it would be our hardest day. Luckily, the B&B’s owner recommended some rerouting—spoiler: we still got lost. Today would take us 70 km from Pitlochry to Kincraig, straight through the cairngorms. If you have ever had an imagination of how Scotland looks like, it’s exactly that. After a couple of miles on tarmac, we entered the national park.
In front of us lay Britain’s highest mountains and hours and hours of no reception and pure wilderness. At the foot of the mountain An Dùn, we realised we messed up. There was no track, the path literally just stopped. I was worried, scared, very close to panicking. As soon as I stepped one foot on the ground, I sunk in, but there was also no chance of riding. After we carried our bikes through some sort of swamp, we couldn’t believe our eyes.
Right in front of us was Loch an Duin, and I could immediately feel my eyes tearing up. I felt so small, almost irrelevant. Pushing the bike over stones, alongside this massive Loch, with water so dark, I could lose myself in it. We continued to ride for another two hours through rivers and more wilderness until we eventually arrived at the hostel.
DAY 4: HOME AT LAST
It was our last day on the road—only 40 km until our final destination, Tomatin. I felt emotionally sick. My stomach was turning upside down, I felt frisky and far from ready to deal with all the emotions coming up. I recognised the surroundings; I had seen these roads so many times. During a wee cry at the coffee stop outside, sitting all by myself, it finally all sunk in. Why I’m here, what I’ve done, what this means. It all came crashing down all at once. Once we’d passed the village sign, I finally felt so much at ease, so much at peace. It wasn’t only about managing the distance and the challenge of bikepacking through Scotland itself, but about the feeling called ‘home’, it filled every single vein of my body with warm gold. I was right where I was supposed to be.
