Ice Ruts, Frozen Droppers and Cold Feet: Strathpuffer 2025



Even at 20.52 you could still book a room at the Travelodge for £14.50 each. Sitting with a pint in the Black Isle pub on Friday, I argued that a warm night’s sleep would undoubtedly put us in a good position for the weekend ahead. Niall & Alwyn were having none of it – we’d pitched tents in Contin so we were going to camp. (Sly Sam had secretly arranged a warm Inverness bed for himself without telling anyone.) On the drive back in Alwyn’s cramped Audi we clocked -11.5; good thing I’d brought that extra sleeping bag.

Saturday dawned crisp and clear, and the Contin woods had a winter-wonderland affect. We soon had the fire going for the weekend and I was feeling good about once again doing ‘perhaps’ the world’s only 24hr winter mountain-bike race.

I managed to snap a cable cycling to a port-a-loo; my bike was in the shop before the race had begun (a futile effort – turns out dropper-posts freeze) and I was on the last lap. A blessing as it turns out – the early laps were described as being anything from ‘very very hard’ to ‘the sh*test thing I’ve ever done’. Someone threw their toys completely out the pram and spent 2 hours loudly declaring that they would not be getting back on their bike. (They did and they cheered up.)

By the time I was out flattened-paths had formed on the course, allowing for generally smooth movement. Overtaking was an involved process with exhausting fresh powder (‘like cycling up a sand dune’) and, even with spikers, alarming Bambi-legs wheel slips. As the race progressed the steeper descents developed frightening ice-ruts, requiring increasing levels of commitment and patches of unexpected black ice emerged here and there to keep you alert. Laps were slower than last year, requiring more concentration and were surprisingly tiring – my wrists especially were aching after being constantly bashed about by the ground conditions. We’d hoped for top-10 but given the conditions that favoured bike-handling and hardly rewarded brute fitness, we were happy with 20 laps and 13th.

There were enough of us competing (along with some first-class supporters) so that there was always a fire and a friendly face back at the campsite. And while extra effort had to be made to stop water bottles freezing, the dry cold involved less faff than mild muddy conditions – I think my bike was cleaner at the end of the race than at the start. Fewer spectators around this year, but everyone was in an excellent mood and the Puffer-party atmosphere delivered once again.

Some excellent efforts all round – well done to Westies Niall, Sam, Alwyn, Alice, Megan, Harrison and Rona, along with all other pals, riders and supporters who shared a magical weekend in the woods.

It really was a vintage year.