The Outsider

22nd June

Up at the ungodly hour of 9:30 for final packing and arranging of luggage. Everything's going on the back of my bike. I'm hoping to get everything into the panniers, but alas my pre-prepared flat-packed food won't go, so that ends up on my back.

Kitted up and out of the door by 10:30, after an essential cup of tea. It only takes 2 trips to convey all the luggage down stairs, and then I'm loaded up and ready to head for the station.

I choose a Last Meal from the wide array of fine cuisine available at the station and don't just head into Burger King. Well, maybe a little bit. I've got to balance out the green and fluffiness of this weekend somehow.

It's going very smoothly so far. A member of staff points the cycle rack on the train, so I hop on, attach the bike and surround it with bits of luggage. And that's when it starts getting strange.

A hassled guard appears and boots me off the train, on the grounds that the metal structure with a picture of a bicycle on it and a label reading "Cycles" is in fact for wheelchairs. This is clearly impossible to argue with, so I duly pack the bike and leave the train again.

The other, identical, cycle rack is available, so I repeat the process, and get away with it this time. As I wander back down the train, I discover that my first choice now has 3 bikes (and no wheelchairs) on it.

There's a few spots of rain on the journey up, but I emerge into bright sunshine in Aviemore once I've wrassled the bike off the train. I mooch around Aviemore briefly, looking for the right direction in which to escape it. And there's a short 10 minute ride to the site once I find it.

The sun's beating down as I queue for a wristband, and I start worrying that I haven't brought any sun screen. I make an effort not to let that preoccupy me for the rest of the weekend though.

I'm early enough to find a good flat pitch on a ridge, safe from any potential flooding. The site isn't big - I'm about at the far end of it, but still a few hundred yards from the arena. I quickly pitch and unpack. And none of my food has leaked!

[Ridge]

[Bike rack]

[The arena]

I go for an explore of the site, and end up cycling around the arena as a JCB finishes digging the trench to lay cables from the main stage to the mixing desk. It all feels absurdly casual. I'm happy to see that the beer tent, instead of being the usual Carlsberg-Tetley affair, is laid on by the Black Isle brewery.

I have a good explore of what's laid on in the arena. There's stalls from do-gooders like Sustrans, and a bizarrely incongruous stop on the Madeleine McCann publicity campaign. I make an attempt to book some of the activities on offer, but most of the stalls aren't yet manned, so I head tentwards for my flat-packed dinner and a cup of tea. Sausage fajitas. Yum.

I'm back to the arena for opening, and stash my bike in the racks provided. First call is booking activities. I manage, importantly, to get on the list for the whisky tasting. There's something of a whisky presence here - the main stage is the Talisker stage and the film and debate marquee is the Dalwhinnie Pavilion.

I start off in the comedy tent because it's first to open its doors. For future reference, Stephen K. Amos was excellent, Gary the Tank Commander suffered slightly from not actually being funny and Craig Hall was absolute filth.

[Salsa Celtica]

[Peatbog Faeries]

[Teepees and totems]

On the Talisker Stage, I catch Salsa Celtica and the Peatbog Faeries. Looking back now, it's all the Celtic fusion bands which were the real find of the weekend, and along with the whisky, the key reason to go to a music festival in Scotland. They play a blinding set, and tell us how much better the Outsider is than Glastonbury, which is now under a biblical deluge of mud. By contrast, the Highlands have been bright and sunny all day.

To bed, via a cup of tea, where I hit my first problem. The combination of my lightweight tent and my lightweight sleeping bag isn't up to the demands of nighttime in the Highlands. I sleep with a fleece on, but it's still not warm enough.

23rd June

[Everything's orange]

I wake up in the morning and everything's orange. Everything in the tent, that is. So outside feels overbearingly blue and dull. My plan for the morning is tea and bacon sandwiches. I discover, however, that frying bacon in my flat-packed pan is a logistical menace and give it up after the first one. On top of that, some bugger's nicked my bin bag during the night.

The first activity for this morning is the Wildlife Walk. It delivers rather less than it promises - one Common Lizard and an ant's nest. And quite a lot of heather. Still, there's not that much scope for spotting capercaillies so close to the site. There's a mountain bike race on at the same time, and we have to keep an eye on when we're near the track to avoid getting run over.

As we get back, it's starting to spit. The guide punts the late night badger-watching to us, but I let this one pass. He's confident that badgers and pine martens will be seen, but I've heard it's a good hour's walk away and I don't want to miss KT Tunstall.

Anyway, it's time for lunch, and it's still raining, an opportunity to see if I can use the stove inside the tent without burning it down. Thankfully I can. Lunch is Thai curry soup.

[Capercaillie]

[Squeezebox solo!]

[More Capercaillie]

The lunchtime concert is Capercaillie in the rain. They apologise for it, but we're all having too much fun to worry. Mud is starting to form in front of the stage, but the rain stops and their set finishes on a high note amid much dancing.

Next stop is tree-huggers' Question Time. Kirsty Wark confirms the age old question about what newsreaders wear below the desk by coming equipped in half Newsnight uniform and half heavy duty anti-mud protection. The debate is on Walking Our Green Talk, which puts the boss of Virgin Galactic at an immediate disadvantage, although he acquits himself reasonably well. Another panelist, a climate change scientist, reveals that he no longer flies anywhere.

After the debate, I scan for more music. The Planet tent is surrounded by lakes, and full for Blazin' Fiddles. The five fiddle lineup doesn't particularly inspire me, so I swim out again and look for other places to hide from the rain. The Dragon's Glen is now hosting people pitching their crazy schemes and is equally full. Eventually I decide to head back to the tent for dinner. It will be necessary before this evening's whisky tasting.

[Whisky]

[Jones and Woomble]

[Rod and Roddy]

[Idlewild]

Well, the event is laid on by Diageo, under the guise of their Classic Malts group. Despite being a big advert, they give a good introduction to whisky tasting, and all in all, provide a great excuse to drink free whisky.

Leave the whisky tent feeling pleasantly mellow and run into Idlewild on the main stage. Excellent set, although we're all watching the Primitive Mud People who are staging a big mud-wrestling event in the middle of the crowd. Roddy Idlewild points out the porridge wagon serving all manner of marvellous flavours including honey, raspberry, tablet and white

[Mounted Police]

[How do they extract it?]

chocolate, noting that "My granny would not approve." Granny Woomble notwithstanding, it makes a fabulous warmer in the rain.

[Primitive]

[Mud]

[People]

[KT]

[KT]

[KT]

[KT]

After more mud-related silliness during the interval, it's time for the main event. KT Tunstall is by far the festival's biggest pull as far as I'm concerned, and I find a prime patch of relative unbog from which to watch her. It's a great set - mix of old favorites and new stuff, and she's really good at engaging with the crowd. Great stuff, and I even indulge in dancing. I blame the whisky.

When the set finishes, I can't feel my feet (circumstantial evidence suggests they're waterlogged and frozen), and I wander off for a brief inspection of the second stage before sleep. The atmosphere at

[Complete Stone Roses]

[Complete Stone Roses]

[Complete Stone Roses]

[Complete Stone Roses]

Complete Stone Roses is a complete change from the KT Tunstall fans - it's cheerfully anarchic and there's no particular respect for the band. The singer's pint gets knocked off a guitar amp by a carefully aimed glowstick. It's all good fun as they belt out old favourites for an hour in a deeply dubious Mancunian accent.

And that's it for the night. I head back via a brew, to wring my feet out and add some clothes for bed.

24rd June

[Bog]

[Gull attack!]

I wake up to hear the tent next to me talking about the rain making the arena an absolute write-off. People are starting to bail out, apparently. It certainly rained all night, but then that's better than during the day.

Still, I get up and have my morning brew. The site's definitely looking thinner. I think briefly about bailing but, crucially, my bike reservation back to civilisation isn't until tomorrow evening.

[Dalwhinnie Pavilion]

[Planet Stage bog]

As it turns out, I end up in the film tent which starts earliest, watching Finding Nemo. That's followed by a short called The Old Man of Ben Macdhui and then the inevitable showing of the Al Gore vehicle - An Inconvenient Truth. Which annoys me more than it persuades me. The evidence is there without having to resort to politicians' weasel words and cheap stage tricks. And it's

[Injuns]

basically just a film of him giving a slideshow.

After that, it's a search for somewhere dry to be. The rain's getting more insistent and the bog's threatening to swallow people. The campsite is noticeably thinning now. My next refuge is the Planet Stage where I walk in on a Skye band, the Injuns. They have a great funky folky sound, and they're clearly having fun.

[Make Model]

Next up, it's Make Model who are apparently being groomed to be the Next Big Thing. I can remember nothing about them.

Back to the tent for lunch in difficult circumstances - cooking while hiding under the tent flap with muddy boots stick out of the tent. My Thai chicken soup is lovely as ever and I wander pointlessly around the arena stalls drinking it.

Later on, I succumb to the porridge man, and have one with raspberry coulis, honey, single cream and white chocolate. It's fantastic and I decide to give up on cooking for the day.

Question Time, this time with Lord David Steel, provides another refuge from the rain, although sitting still tends to cause my toes to seize up and freeze. I leave during the questions to look for other things to do, and watch the childrens' comedy for a bit. It's rather silly and very well done.

At this point, I go back to the tent for an ultimately futile attempt at waterproofing. I change my socks and repurpose a poncho to provide a waterproof layer between them and my boot.

[Guillemots]

The Guillemots are playing on the main stage as I head back, and they're rather good. They explain that they've been told they can't use electric trickery for reasons of dampness, so they'll be doing a rare acoustic set for us, and they're not sure how well their usual arrangements will work...

[Waiting patiently]

[Primitive Mud People]

The Primitive Mud People are here too, and there's even more mud available than yesterday. Much silliness goes on after the Guillemots finish and they wait for Crowded House - sliding around in the mud, and baptising new followers.

[Sliding]

[Baptising]

The PA foolishly finish the break with a reel, and the PMP quickly form a circle, enclose a series of Clean People in it, and at some unspoken signal, all rush into the middle to initiate each new follower in turn.

[Crowded House]

[Crowded House]

[Crowded House]

Then Crowded House are on. They play crowd-pleaser after crowd-pleaser as the rain stops. Good fun is had by all. Great banter with the crowd, even if they do think they're in Inverness.

[Shooglenifty]

[Shooglenifty]

[Shooglenifty]

After the second encore, it's over to Shooglenifty to close out the festival. And they are insanely great. Their folky disco madness blows me away and I dance like a maniac along with the rest of the tent.

And then to bed. I swim back to the tent and carefully demud. My socks give off visible fumes as I unwrap the poncho from them.

25rd June

And that's it for the entertainment. I have a cup of tea to get some warmth going and start knocking the tent down. It all manages to fit, I collect my bike from the rack, and get on my way.

Now, I have a dilemma. My bike's booked on a train at about twenty to eight this evening, because that was all I could get, and ScotRail mean it when it comes to bike reservations. I'd imagined I'd spend the day cycling the Rothiemurchus bike trials, but frankly it's raining and I can't be arsed. So my other option is to smuggle the bike onto a train neither of us have tickets for and hope we don't get chucked off in the middle of nowhere.

In the end I do the wrong thing and wrestle my fully-loaded bike on to the train, displacing man and beast from their positions to get the bike onto the rack. My devious scheme of finding a seat and going to sleep with my MP3 player on succeeds in deflecting conductors and the bike and I arrive back in Edinburgh in early afternoon rather than 10 at night.