Small town, big rides — exploring the rugged landscapes of Alyth in Scotland and appreciating what’s on the doorstep

I’ve always had a love for travel, and as a teenager, I used to dream of seeing the world with nothing more than a backpack, holding everything I needed for months on end.

At the time, it felt like the ultimate lifestyle - living free and light, exploring all the far-flung corners of the globe. While I’d love to say that vision still holds true, the reality is that years of travel have taught me what a logistical headache it can be. Add a bike into that equation, and the headache quickly turns into a migraine.

At times, when I’ve had time to barely unpack before already repacking for the next trip, I’ve wondered if I’m truly enjoying travelling in the way I once imagined, and whether it’d just be better to stay home. Permanently. 

So, when the opportunity came up to spend a weekend cycling in Alyth, Scotland, my first reaction was a mix of curiosity, but also hesitation. What’s in Alyth? How do you even pronounce the name, and where exactly is it? The small 2,400-resident town northwest of Dundee had not exactly been on my radar as a must-see destination. But, as it turns out, sometimes when you go into the unknown you are surprised the most.

I said yes to the trip. I roped a friend in to come along, and apart from some riding, we didn’t have a plan for the weekend, nor did we really stick to what little riding plans we made. Honestly, that was part of the appeal. Like many others, I’ve often dreamed of epic rides through the Alps or cruising along the smooth, sun-baked roads of Italy – places that, while breathtaking, often come with added complexities like flights, and meticulous scheduling which all add pressure. 

Seeing and dreaming about all those “ultimate cycling destinations” makes me sometimes think that I, or many of us, don’t appreciate what’s nearby enough. A few years ago, lockdowns limited travel and many of us rediscovered the beauty of our own backyards (sometimes to the detriment of our sanity) and cycling trails we’d overlooked, parks we hadn’t explored, and nearby towns we’d never thought to visit before. But once the gates opened for international flights again, they took no time to get back to pre-pandemic levels and beyond. 

Reflecting on that, I also thought about how I’ve now spent a third of my life living abroad, and while Finland – where I’m from – is vast and stunning, I’m a little embarrassed by how much of it I never explored when I lived there. Instead, I eagerly booked flights to Spain’s Costa del Sol or Thailand’s tropical beaches (granted, in the bleak November slush it is hard not to desire some sunshine), thinking those places offered something special. Sure they did, but now I wonder why I didn’t see and appreciate the beauty closer to home more. 

Maybe I'm getting sentimental with age, but now I’ve come to cherish the charm of places nearby more, and Alyth quickly became one of those places.

The small, quaint Scottish town is nestled between Dunkeld, Dundee, and Perth – seemingly, and quite literally, in the middle of nowhere. But for a cyclist, that’s perfect. It has everything you need for a peaceful cycling getaway: a well-stocked Co-Op, a chippy, a few local restaurants, and a pub (two, even!) to unwind at, as well as a very well-equipped bike shop. It’s charmingly sleepy, in a good way.

In Alyth, we stayed at Forillon, a cyclist-friendly place to stay at the heart of the town, run by Bikepacking Scotland. It’s a simple but well-equipped house with plenty of room to relax, complete with a bike shed that houses basic tools, too. With three bedrooms and two bathrooms to use, the house could fit up to six people.

When typing up my notes from the trip, I found myself thinking of revisiting Alyth a lot, and there’s one major reason for that: cycling around the town is nothing short of versatile. From quiet country roads, gravelly farm tracks, and sandy paths in the forests, to more challenging hill climbs, it’s an ideal base for anyone looking to escape – whether it is on a road, gravel, or mountain bike. Or not even on a bike! And I only got to scratch the surface of it all in two days. 

Because of its location away from major cities, it’s easy to ride loops in almost any direction from Alyth, and if you do stay at Forillon, you’ll get plenty of route collections and suggestions as part of the package. Not to mention, if you're bikepacking through this part of Scotland, it'd make a great pitstop on the route. Our first ride took us to Dunkeld, mainly driven by my eagerness to show my friend the renowned Aran Bakery, as well as the beautiful Hermitage. On the second day, I did a 100km (mainly) road loop – and barely touched a busy road. 

The scenery around the region doesn’t disappoint, either. If you visit in the summer, Perth and Kinross, where Alyth lies, is absolutely heaving with strawberry (and other berry) fields, and I’d bet that you’re not going to do a ride without passing at least one. There are also plenty of farm shops with honesty boxes dotted around, and I’d recommend packing a little musette with you if you can, so you could get the day’s dinner supplies on your ride. And in the winter, you’ve got the snow-covered hills to climb up to, while the autumn colours up the forests. 

A place that would be at its best in the autumn is Den of Alyth, a beautiful wooded gorge stone's throw away from our accommodation. The Den is criss-crossed by trails that take you through lush forest alongside the rushing Alyth Burn, which runs through the town. The Den is also part of the Cateran Ecomuseum, a kind of large, outdoor museum that is “focused on the identity of a place” and in essence that means there are a lot of outdoor spots in this area highlighting a part of its history. So you might not see lots of sculptures or fancy churches, but rather learn more about the area that also marks the 500-million-year-old Highland Boundary Fault, a geological feature that divides the Scottish Highlands from the Lowlands.

I was mistaken to think so little about Alyth; for a small rural town, it packs in very little and a lot simultaneously. It’s simple being there; you’re away from the endless options of where to eat (though cafe stops are still plenty along the routes!) and when sitting on a couch with a friend after a day of exploring, getting soaked on a ride, and then eating burnt garlic baguette for lunch, it’s much easier just to be present and put your feet up. 

So, while I still have dreams of big adventures too, Alyth reminded me that we shouldn’t forget about exploring places closer to home. Places where the pace is slower, the roads are new yet familiar, and the only thing you need to think about is where your coffee stop will be. They require less packing and planning, and that’s sometimes very much needed.