Jenny Graham's year on two wheels

From local trail riding to bikepacking in Scotland and road cycling in Norway, a reflective look at a year spent exploring, learning and slowing down on two wheels.

Whether learning to jump higher on my local trails or stopping to let moose cross the road on Norwegian highways, my year has been full of curiosity and exploration on two wheels. It’s been less about how far I’ve gone and much more about the journey I’ve taken to get there.

Right from the start of the year, my focus was firmly on my Evol mountain bike, with heaps of time spent on local trails, sessioning features and learning to jump with more confidence, and, eventually, more height. It felt good to slow things down and focus on skills rather than distance, and that confidence carried over into some brilliant trips further afield.

The standout was an Easter bikepacking trip into Fisherfield on the west coast of Scotland. It’s a place I know well, but it never loses its magic. Rugged and wild, with trails that aren’t always rideable and views you can hardly believe to be true. There’s a gorgeous little bothy not far from the river you have to cross to continue through the area, and that crossing can be anything from ankle-deep to armpit-high depending on the day.

This time, things were kind. Snow dusted the mountain tops all around us, but the ground stayed dry under tyre. We rode from Ullapool towards Torridon at an unhurried pace, carrying far too much food, just the right amount of gin, and soaking up the familiarity of a place that feels like an old friend.

Gravel riding offered something completely different. My faithful Camino gravel bike took me exploring in a quieter, more reflective way, following old rights of way and chasing stories from the past. One of my favourite rides was a coast-to-coast across Scotland in the footsteps of the legendary John the Post.

He was the last postie of his kind, running more than 120 miles on foot each week through glens and along lochs, scrambling over crags and finding lodgings as he went, carrying news from east to west and back again. I had a much easier time of it, riding trails that Highlanders had bedded in over hundreds of years, many now conveniently tarred. The Camino was built for this kind of riding: never quite knowing what’s coming next, but trusting the bike to deal with it. Riding those old lines through the landscape gave real perspective, imagining the effort and determination it once took to move through these places.

Then there was my Colibri road bike. I took it out to Norway this year, spending much of the summer in coastal villages northwest of Trondheim. It’s a special place, with plenty of similarities to the Scottish Highlands, big skies, quiet roads, and a sense of space that encourages you to slow down. Some of the most memorable moments weren’t the rides in motion, but the pauses: stopping to watch moose and reindeer grazing calmly at the side of the road. Being on a bike lets you get closer, move more quietly, and feel part of the landscape rather than just passing through it.

Back home, the familiar pull of the Bealach na Bà rounded off the year as I hosted my first cycling event, The Bà, with a closed road over one of Scotland’s most special passes. It’s a reminder of just how powerful shared challenges can be.

And what’s next? After a year rooted in exploration and spending lots of time riding at home in Scotland, I’ve teamed up with fellow Scot and endurance rider Mark Beaumont, alongside Yorkshire riders Martin Mansell and Hamish Graham, for a proper European epic. We’ll be riding from the very north of Norway to the south of Spain — a 4,000-mile journey the length of Europe. It’ll be punchy, fast, and I genuinely can’t wait to shake things up.