https://topofests.wordpress.com/2015/11/13/cake-for-breakfast-a-glossary-of-scottish-bikepacking/

The month is November, the forecast is damp. With cake in our bellies and a glint in our beards, we try to get to the bottom of what makes bikepacking in the Highlands so moreish.

Any more ideas for the glossary welcome, as well as answers to whether toast is a cake or a biscuit…

“Scotland isn’t a country”. Where have I been living for the past 60 years?

M is for Midge

B is also for butteries – breakfast, noon & night, its like pemmican or lembas bread 🙂

I really enjoyed reading that. Thanks

M is definitely for Midges! Luckily they all finally died a few weeks ago, but that will need adding… Butteries or oatcakes though?

As far as the cake vs biscuit question is concerned, cakes go hard when they’re stale, and biscuits go soft. (See the famous Jaffa cake ’cake or biscuit’ case for reference) Based on this, toast is definitely cake.

hill-walking I would possibly chuck in a packet of oatcakes. being crammed into a bike pack pack though, butteries all the way, not the crumbly namby-pamby kind but the full-fat rowie variety…

“Scotland isn’t a country”. Where have I been living for the past 60 years?

The UK, obvs. You’ve asked the wrong question there 🙂

^^From the drop a letter thread, maybe Scotland’s a county

Butteries! The northern croissant. Mmmmmm!

Hike a bike for no ride is complete without it.

Getting pished on while it is apparently blue sky above.

The hot aches.

Opening your sack to find an unopened pack of jelly babies or peanut m and m’s when the bonk has hit you with a hammer. The sheer joy of knowing everything is going to be fine!

Being damper on the inside than on the outside.

Cheers

Sanny

I’m willing to accept the answer of whoever looks angriest.

😀

Ooh some good ones there Sanny! Part 2 might be necessary… Omnidirectional headwinds are also on the shortlist after the least few day’s weather.

Gloamin – that stingy, burny feeling after heather has removed the skin off the front of your shins?

Rain coming from below as well as above.
Arriving at a cafe to find they don’t take cards.
Arriving at a cafe to find the kitchen closes at 3.

But then there are the brilliant bits.

Feeling like the first person to have ever ridden a trail.
Having ptarmigan come up beside you for a nosey.
Having a mountain hare stare you down before scampering off.
Going through a herd of reindeer who seem almost oblivious to you.
Long days in the saddle followed by a wild camp where it barely gets dark.
Hearing skylarks accompanying you as you hike a bike up a mountain.
Lying in the heather and short grass for a mid ride siesta.
Knowing that the high point of every ride is probably the start of a great descent.
Being able to ride wherever the inclination takes you.