Finding Connection at Sisters in the Wild Scotland

The Blueberries are plump and juicy. Our fingers stain purple as we pluck them from their bright green stems. Sometimes, faces pucker as we find a sour one, and there’s the odd squeak as someone discovers a big round spider lurking between the fruits. We are a few hours into a multi-day journey that will see us ride a big loop through the Cairngorms and further west. Over the next few days, we will ride over mountain passes, cross rivers, sleep next to huge lochs, and experience the Highland weather. Autumn is my favorite season for riding in the Highlands—interesting mushrooms popping up everywhere, berries to add to morning porridge, and the last of the summer flowers still hanging on and adding delicate colors to the landscape.

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I’m guiding a wee group of six women for Sisters in the Wild. We met for the first time yesterday afternoon, and everyone arrived alone as a stranger. Even as the guide, I’m slightly apprehensive about spending the next week with new folks. What will they be like? Will they be fun? The more I guide for Sisters in the Wild, the less I worry. Without fail, the women who choose these journeys bring an openness and curiosity that helps to melt boundaries. I think it’s brave to sign up for a holiday that might be out of your comfort zone and then do it with a load of strangers. But as most riders come solo, everyone feels the same, and friendships form quickly.

On our first afternoon, we set off for a practice ride, loaded with our bikepacking kit. As we take on different trails and work out where a few helping Voile straps are needed to keep bags attached, we also share our fears for the days ahead. Fitness, cold, river crossings, bad weather, and food are all common concerns. It’s never too long before one main fear surfaces: how to poop outside. It can seem a mysterious and scary undertaking for the uninitiated to the outdoor dump. Those in the group who have already taken the plop share stories of times gone wrong, and soon, this group of professional adult women will be giggling like toddlers. As the trip progresses, there will be encouragement and congratulations as people overcome their fears and learn the joy of having a poo with a view.

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Leaving the berries behind, we ride through meadows of soft purple heathers and cross our first river. Tip-toeing over rocky stepping stones, we all make it over with dry feet intact. Climbing steadily, the landscape changes, and we leave behind the deep pine forests. We are following a route that parallels one of the wildest rivers in the UK for a few kilometers. Mountains loom on all sides, and it seems we are riding to a dead end. A steep climb leads up a hidden pass through the hills. Today though, a thick damp mist obscures the promised views. The group doesn’t seem to hold it against me, instead enjoying the eerie conditions, and it’s not long before we drop below it again.

Following a historic drovers’ road cutting through the mountains, we ride alongside gorgeous lochs, the mountains rising steeply from the water. We are moving well, and our second and third river crossings are met with good spirits. Techniques vary from the slow, cautious removal of shoes and tip-toeing through to those who don’t care about dry shoes anymore and splash across, embracing the refreshing, cool water. Towards the end of the day, we encounter our first real Scottish bog. For those who have yet to discover this delicacy, the bog is a wetland of peat soil and sphagnum mosses. Judging which footstep will support you and which might plunge you knee-deep into dark, murky water can be difficult. Hilarious and frustrating, I warn everyone to keep snacking so they keep their sense of humor. Most things in bikepacking are fun if you have enough sugar in you.

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With surprisingly few mishaps, we rejoined solid ground and soon flew down the river, reaping the rewards of our earlier climbing. The group chooses to push towards a further campsite to have a relaxed day tomorrow as we have a dinner reservation at one of the most remote restaurants in Scotland. Setting up camp on the side of a long loch, we make dinner, listen to little waves, and swap stories from the day. As dusk falls, one of the groups organizes a stretching session before bed, and we all bend and twist as the oddly confused bat swishes past. It feels as though we have known each other for months.

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The morning dawns still and misty. For some of the group, this was their first night in a tent. A huge milestone ticked off! We ride in search of the promised sun, bundled up in jackets. Only a few hours later, we are lazing on a small sandy beach, snacking, sunbathing, and swimming. The sunshine and early autumn heat is glorious, but it also brings a more unusual challenge for Scotland: staying hydrated and comfortable. Luckily, with clear streams running down every hillside, it’s not hard to replenish water bottles, and we soak our shirts as we begin our next big climb. Slow and steady, sometimes pushing, sometimes riding, we make our way high onto the moor, incredible scenery stretching out around us. The group wait for and support each other as the climb proves challenging in the full sun. We gather at the top, soaking in the views, a bright loch with small scattered islands down below. Our home for the night is just visible, a small hostel perched on the southwestern end of the loch. With big grins, we dance down the rocky track, arriving in time for a pre-dinner swim. The water is cool and peaty with views that stretch to distant mountains. It’s bliss to wash away the day’s dust and sweat.

As we tuck into our delicious, well-earned dinner, I look around the table of chatter and laughter. I was a latecomer to women-centric spaces; I was initially unsure about them. However, I regret not throwing myself into them sooner. I’m always amazed at the openness of discussions of every aspect of life. Over our week together, we get deep into heartbreak, divorce, menopause, share tales of motherhood or child free lives and worries about our aging parents. We have an age range of nearly 40 years within our wee group, and there is so much knowledge and varied experience to be shared. I might be the guide, but I always come away having learned so much.

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People sign up to these trips lured by the scenery, the challenge, and the trails. But it’s the way the landscape opens up conversations, how the flow of riding enables flow of tightly held worries, and the familiarity that comes from sharing a poo trowel allowing open conversations. There’s so much support offered both in overcoming the challenges on the route and also in life. I always come away grateful to have met and spent time with these women. And it’s these connections that will be remembered in photographs of the beautiful scenery.

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Interested in joining a Sisters in the Wild event like this? Their 2025 event calendar is up now, and you can check out all of their offerings at SistersintheWild.com.

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