Riding the West Highland Way in under 24 hours
- Scott Kennedy
- Oct 6
- 9 min read
Updated: Oct 7
The West Highland Way is Scotland’s most famous long-distance trail, stretching 154km (96 miles) from Fort William to Milngavie. For most hikers, it’s a week-long adventure, and for mountain bikers, it’s usually a two or three-day trip.
Truth be told, I’ve already attempted the challenge twice - and failed both times - so completing the West Highland Way had been in the back of my mind for years.
My first attempt was at age 15. I had no idea what I was doing, totally unprepared, and by 11 p.m. I was getting hauled into a Loch Lomond Rescue boat and handed a tinfoil blanket by one of their volunteers.
Attempt number two went a little better. Me, my dad and my brother, Marc, took on the challenge and managed to push through to the far end of Loch Lomond from Milngavie, but poor fuelling caught up with us and we called it a day.
Fast-forward to work one afternoon, when my colleague Aaron looked over and said: “Want to ride the West Highland Way next Saturday?” My response: “Yeah, why not?”
The Challenge
WHW has become a popular ultra-distance ride over the past few years, usually done in one or two days, so under 24 hours felt like a proper challenge.
Most people go south to north, but we decided to start in Fort William instead. There were a few good reasons for this: walkers can see you coming (less chance of annoying anyone), the trail rides better that way, and best of all, it meant we’d be more or less riding back home.
The Prep ahead of the West Highland Way attempt
Given the spontaneity of the challenge and with seven days to get ready, there wasn’t time for any structured training. I already ride quite a lot, around 8 to 15 hours a week, but I wouldn’t call myself endurance-ready.
The two past failures had drilled one thing into me: fuelling matters more than you think. This time, I aimed to take in 80–100 grams of carbs every hour through a drink mix and some easy-to-eat food like jam sandwiches.
For the bike, I went with my Orange Switch 6 Enduro. Not the lightest or fastest choice, but reliable on rough terrain and fun when things point downhill. It’s also my only mountain bike - so that made the decision for me.
I stuffed my pack with food, tools, and spares, and we headed up to Fort William.
Fort William to Glencoe
We rolled out of Glen Nevis campsite at 4am and cruised into town to the official start line. It felt a bit strange when we set off to head the wrong way, but it was a decent warm-up before we got going.
I was riding with three others, Aaron, Lewis, and Steve, all coming from road, gravel and XC backgrounds. I’ll admit I was nervous I’d get dropped on the first real climb.
At 4.36am, I pressed start on my Garmin, and we were off.
Fort William to Kinlochleven
Soon we’d left the village and started the first big climb through Glen Nevis. This was tough, but it was really a warm-up in the grand scheme of things. And I did get spat off the back. The sun rose near the top and unveiled the spectacular highland views. I caught up with the group on the flat, then from there it was some fun rolling singletrack through the valleys.
The trail descent into Kinlochleven was great fun, a very technical natural walker's path. Soon, we were through the gate and into the village for a short water stop.
Kinlochleven to Kingshouse
On the bikes again, straight into the biggest single climb on the route up Military Road to the Devil’s Staircase. Although it was a fireroad climb, it was savagely steep. I ended up pushing the last third, watching the rest of the group ride on with apparent ease.
Next up was the Devil’s Staircase descent. I’d say this was the most fun part of the whole challenge. This is the highest point on the route at 550m, and we had approached half of the total elevation gain of the whole route at this point.
The descent reminded me of the Glencoe Resort Black DH trail. It was the first point on the route where I felt right at home.
From the foot of the Devil's Staircase, it was a relatively flat spin along the path to the Kingshouse Hotel for our next water stop.
Quick plug: I coach riders at PEAK MTB – if you want to avoid my past mistakes and ride with more confidence, you can book a session here.
Kingshouse to Bridge of Orchy
This section felt undulating and largely uneventful. At this stage, I tried my best to remove the length of the ride from my head and just focus on pedalling and appreciating the scenery. There was a definite change to the landscape at this point.
I could start to feel that I’d done a lot of riding, but I was surprised at how reasonably fresh I felt, and I was managing to keep up with the group. I’d been religiously sticking to my fueling strategy, and it seemed like it was paying off.
It was a long, mellow fire road descent into Iveroran, where we stopped off for a well-earned bottle of Coke and cake out of the shop.
Before Bridge of Orchy, there was a grim 361m climb over Mam Carraigh. Steve managed to clean this climb, which was really impressive. The rest of the group slogged up by foot. It was a fun descent from here, but this was probably the busiest point with walkers as it was approaching midday.
Bridge of Orchy to Tyndrum (Green Welly Stop)
It started to be a bit of a theme - a steep climb followed every stop. The one out of Bridge of Orchy was hard, but it was fully paved, making it possible to ride the full section. Tiredness was setting in for the group, not only from riding, but from waking up at 3am.
The land rover track undulates here, along to the railway section. It was a really cool feature, ducking down through a small tunnel, followed by a short hike-a-bike section.
It was all downhill riding from there, and we were spat out at the Green Welly just in time for lunch.
Tyndrum to Beinglass
We had an extended break at the Green Welly for around an hour. We initially planned to stop for 30 minutes, but the scale of the ride ahead fully set in, and by this point, we’d been riding for 8 hours.
I didn’t feel like eating, but I also wanted to eat everything in sight. I got a pile of food from the shop: a plowman's sandwich, a ‘meat pie’ (no idea what was in it), a selection of flapjacks, and a few cans of energy juice.
We set off again, and you could tell we just didn’t want to ride. It was a (very) rough hour after the Green Welly. We had an extended break at the top of the climb out of Tyndrum due to some tummy troubles (not just me), but we eventually continued to the north shore of Loch Lomond. The terrain here was largely uneventful, rolling hills and some nice singletrack.
We arrived at Beiglass campsite for a refuel break, more energy juice for me, and a pile of flapjacks. I stopped into the tuckshop and bought a slice of caramel shortcake that I saved for a future stop.
Beinglass to Balmaha
This is where everything unravelled.
I knew that the Loch Lomond section was going to be hard, but it’s pretty much impossible to mentally prepare for. Not long after leaving the Beinglass campsite, we continued to ride but the overgrown ferns and brambles over the path made sure that we couldn’t hold speed, and made it unavoidable to get cut to bits along the way.
This is where we had our first casualty. Aaron had dropped back out of sight, then when we stopped to wait on him, he had his pedal in his hand and a stern look on his face. The pedal was sheared clean off the spindle. We agreed that the best plan for him was to head back to Beinglass and wait for a lift home. I was absolutely gutted for Aaron, but the rest of us continued.
There’s not much to say about the rest of this section. It was head down, and get on with it. There was also some mild gymnastics involved while carrying a bike, which would be fun if we weren’t 10 hours in.
Our next casualty came after leaving Inversnaid. On a short, unassuming descent, Lewis caught his pedal on a rock and got sent straight over the bars, 10ft down the hill. I later found out that he had actually broken some ribs, so the fact that he continued was insane.
After nearly six hours of climbing over rocks, we reached Balmaha. It was dark by this point, and I felt pretty terrible. I had the Beiglass caramel shortcake that I’d been saving while walking up the final stretch here, and I'm pretty sure it singlehandedly kept the attempt going.
Balmaha to Milngavie
We strapped on some lights and made a few tough calls here. The three of us decided to skip Conic Hill, and Lewis made the even tougher decision to call in at Drymen. That must’ve been hard, but the fact that he made it there was pretty mad.
This is where we knew our attempt was done. We were missing Conic Hill, and we took the main road to Drymen to make sure Lewis got picked up safely.
Skipping this chunk meant that it wasn’t a valid attempt at the route, but I still wanted to make it to Milngavie.
Things are a bit foggy for me from here. Steve and I cut back onto the route somewhere between Drymen and Dumgoyne. At this point, I was just a monkey turning pedals, following the rider in front. I got off to walk a short hill and looked down, and complete panic set in when I looked at the ground and thought the whole place was covered in spiders. Thankfully, my mind was playing tricks on me, and I quickly realised that it was just tufts of grass coming out of the path.
We got to a gate and Steve said: “That was the last climb, it’s all downhill from here.” I was completely exhausted but so relieved. I could see the endpoint on my Garmin, and we rode far too quickly down the hill for the state I was in.
We rode up the small path and made it to the official start/end point. It felt surreal to have made it there, and also a bit strange as it was 12:30 am, pitch black, and the town centre was completely dead.
My brother, Marc, and my partner, Katie, who were the designated collection crew, arrived to pick up what was left of me. High fives were had, photos were taken, and then Steve left to catch his lift, riding off looking as fresh as he did at the start of the day.
One word about Steve - the man is an absolute machine on a bike, and if he wasn’t there that day, I wouldn’t have made it to Milngavie. Cheers Steve.
Conclusion
Looking back, my favourite moment was still that early section out of Kinlochleven and the descent of the Devil’s Staircase - it was a perfect mix of beauty and adrenaline. But the whole journey was unforgettable: the excitement of starting as a group, the setbacks along the way, and the sheer stubbornness required to see it through.
Would I recommend the WHW in a day? For most riders, two or three days is a much more enjoyable way to experience it. But as a one-off challenge, it was one of the toughest and most rewarding rides I’ve ever done.
On reflection, I probably had no business giving the WHW a go in a day.
The days that followed had me pretty beaten up, but I was back riding a bike after four days. Despite the mental and physical challenge, it was an amazing experience, and I’d urge anyone to give it a go with some proper preparation and training.
Let it be known, I’m definitely not classing this as a completed attempt - so it looks like I’ll be giving it another go in Spring 2026 if anyone would like to join?
Finally, I’d like to dedicate this ride to Rab Wardell.
I thought about Rab a lot throughout this challenge; his insane accomplishments, achievements, but mostly for how many people he inspired to get out on push bikes. I was fortunate enough to work alongside Rab and see the impact he had on people, first-hand.
Rab’s fastest known time on the West Highland Way was 9 hours 14 minutes and 32 seconds - read that again. Legend.
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