Off the Island and Into the Dust: Photographing Ard Rock 2025
Every now and then, something pulls me away from the heather-clad hills and craggy coastline of Arran. Not much can tempt me off-island for long, but the Ard Rock mountain bike festival is an exception — and in 2025, it came roaring back with more madness, and mechanical mayhem than ever.
So I packed the cameras, booked the ferry, and swapped island peace for the raucous, adrenaline-fuelled chaos of three days in the Yorkshire Dales, camera in hand, adrenaline high, and lens cap nowhere to be seen.
What Is Ard Rock?
If you’ve never heard of Ard Rock, picture this: hundreds (actually, thousands) of riders hurtling down rocky singletrack stages carved into steep dalesides, while spectators line the course shouting, laughing, cheering and occasionally heckling in a truly unique carnival atmosphere. It’s part enduro race, part music festival, part fancy-dress party, and all-round brilliant fun.
Hecklers Wood, in particular, is the place where it all goes slightly feral. Imagine a tight trail through the trees, lined with spectators waving cowbells, beer in hand, shouting encouragement (or playful abuse) as riders try to keep rubber side down through roots, ruts, and rock gardens that want to eat wheels for breakfast.
Naturally, I made a beeline for it.
Three Days of Dust, Carnage, and Camera Clicks
I shot across all three days of Ard Rock 2025, and each had its own flavour:
Day One – Rolling In
This is when the festival’s pulse starts to quicken. Riders arrive in droves, the expo village buzzes with tents and banners from every bike brand you can name, and the sound of freehubs spinning fills the air. I wandered the pits and fields with my camera, catching riders tweaking bikes, grabbing coffees, and nervously checking tyre pressures. Even the dogs looked stoked.
It’s the calm before the storm, but there’s already a feeling that something wild is brewing.
Day Two – Race Day Mayhem
By Saturday, the gloves are off. Riders hit the timed stages, and the atmosphere cranks up to 11. I staked out a few technical spots — including that now-infamous chute in Hecklers Wood — and waited for the chaos to roll in.
And oh, did it deliver.
There were flawless runs, jaw-dropping jumps, awkward dismounts, and crashes that drew sympathetic winces and roars from the crowd. I captured a full spectrum of emotions — from steely-eyed focus to wide-eyed panic, and everything in between. One poor soul went full Superman over the bars right in front of me. He got up grinning though, bike (mostly) intact.
Spectators were just as much part of the show — shouting, pointing, banging inflatable clappers, even busting out brass instruments and donning Grim Reaper costumes for a bit of theatrical flair. It’s hard to explain the energy unless you’re there, but hopefully the photos do it justice.
Day Three – Full Send and Farewell
Sunday was the final hurrah, with legs a little more tired, lines a little rougher, and confidence levels bizarrely higher. Hecklers Wood was packed again, the trail dusty and churned, and riders sending it with everything they had left in the tank.
I moved about more this day — capturing wider scenes, reaction shots, and moments away from the tape where the community vibe of Ard Rock really shines. People helping each other with broken bikes, strangers swapping stories, kids buzzing around on mini bikes, and friends old and new reliving every crash and corner in the beer tent.
Why I Keep Coming Back
As someone who spends most days photographing peaceful landscapes and quiet corners of Arran, Ard Rock is like stepping into another universe. But it’s addictive — not just the action, but the sense of community and shared madness. It’s a joy to capture.
There’s something about the rawness of it all — the dust, the blood, the cheers — that makes for incredibly honest photography. There’s no posing, no pretence, just people throwing themselves into the moment. And that’s something I’ll always want to document.
Back to Arran… But Already Planning Next Year
After three wild days and more shutter clicks than I care to count, I packed the gear back up, said my goodbyes to the Dales, and made the trip home to Arran. The ferry felt slower than usual — maybe because I was still buzzing from the action, or maybe because part of me was already thinking about Ard Rock 2026.
Sometimes it’s good to step out of your usual frame. And sometimes, you find new stories to tell that make your usual view feel even more special when you return.
Till next year, Ard Rock.
