Mountain ears: they’re so tasty!

That’s Biggles tucking into a tasty ear breakfast after spending the night on the summit of Ben Donich. And before you ask, yes the overnighter was intentional and not something that was forced on us by an escaping Beagle. As you can see our four legged mountaineers were frisky and full of energy after their night of wild camping, which is more than could be said for Susan and myself.

Our previous night on a mountain was last year on Arran’s Goat Fell. That had been during June, giving us the double benefit of warmer nights and less time to kill between sunset and sunrise. We’d been able to get by with a lightweight fishing shelter instead of a full-blown tent back then. This time, with colder temperatures and nearly twelve hours from sun down to sun up, we knew there could be no corner cutting; we needed a proper tent, with proper sleeping bags. Unfortunately all that bulk doesn’t help when you have to do a bit of scrambling on the way to your chosen mountain top.

Another thing that doesn’t help with scrambling is an over-enthusiastic Beagle boy. The plan had been for Susan to get just far enough down to hand me first her rucksack, then our two Beagles, but Biggles just didn’t want to wait for his turn. He kept trying to squeeze past Susan, and it was only when he finally managed to dive over her shoulder and onto her lap that he remembered he’s no good at climbing. In a second he went from fearless mountaineer to scared and repentant little boy, but somehow Susan managed to keep hold both of him and her unwieldy backpack just long enough for me to get them safely back to terra firma. I will say one thing for Biggles: he doesn’t let these little reversals dent his ego. As soon as his feet touched the ground he had a thorough shake and was instantly transformed back into Sir Edmund Bigglery. Onward!!

We made it to the summit without further incident and quickly found a site for our tent. Susan handled the pitching process almost completely solo. I’m not good with tents and neither are Beanie & Biggles, so I figured the best way for us to help would be.. not to help.

Are you done yet Mum?

Once the tent was up I attended to the really important stuff like serving up the kibble and filling the water bowl, then went to scout out good shooting locations for the coming sunset. As it turned out cloud made the sunset a bit of a non-event, but I got some shots of an unusual shaped rock and Susan doing a handstand against the summit trig point.

Up to this point the temperature had been pretty mild, but as soon as the sun disappeared it really started to bite. It wasn’t long before we all retired to the shelter of the tent to spend the night wrapped up in our thick sleeping bags, and that’s when the fun really started.

We had two sleeping bags and four bodies to keep warm. After a game of musical beds I ended up with Biggles while Susan took in Beanie. I have to say it wasn’t brilliantly comfortable; I’ve a sneaking suspicion that the bag’s designers never anticipated that the owner would be sharing with a Biggly Boy. Nevertheless, I figured I’d still manage to get a somewhat decent sleep. I was of course wrong.

Susan has a touch of claustrophobia, and the combination of a tight sleeping bag and Beagle that really likes to stretch out soon became untenable, so I ended up with two Beagles in my bag. At first it wasn’t too bad; Beanie settled in behind my knees while Biggles kept the front of my feet warm, but then I tried to change position and got a taste of claustrophobia myself. Every time I made an inch of space for myself, a Beanie body part filled it. I decided I would just shove her out of the way; after all I’m the human, she’s the dog, right? She responded first by grumbling, then by walking none too lightly over my groin area which really killed the whole “just about to nod off” vibe. After a little more wrestling I somehow ended up with her nose packed tightly into my left armpit. She took in a deep breath, then let out a relaxed sigh of contentment. I can honestly say this is the first time any living creature has reacted positively to the smell of my armpit, especially after I’ve climbed a hill without showering. Regardless, this stable state didn’t last for more than ten minutes, then we were back to wrestling and grumbling at each other. Suffice it to say I got maybe 40 minutes sleep over the whole night.

In the morning we were in and out of cloud for the first hour or so, but when the mist cleared the view was spectacular.

It was truly gorgeous up there, but desperately cold. Eventually we’d had our fill of the scenery and we began the process of packing everything up. We started inside the tent by letting the air out of our inflatable mattresses (which was a source of endless amusement and fascination to Beanie & Biggles), then moved outside to dismantle the tent itself. It had been my intention to help Susan throughout, but a sudden outbreak of play-fighting demanded my attention.

Despite all the criss-crossing, leaping and rolling that went on, they never once got tangled up in their leads, yet on a regular walk you can guarantee that Biggles will tie himself up at least once every 100 yards.

It was great to see them playing; they haven’t had an extended wrestling match like that at home for ages. I figured either Beanie’s attacks on Biggles a couple of years ago had permanently dented his confidence, or maybe they’d just grown out of that kind of play. Either way, it looks like that night on Ben Donich has rolled back the clock a bit.

The Cobbler, also known as Ben Arthur, is one of our favorite mountains. We’ve visited it a few times now; once during “regular” walking hours, and twice in the very early hours of the morning prior to sunrise (here, and here) but until yesterday we’d never seen a sunset from either of its two walker-accessible peaks.

After days of grotty weather the forecasts had been consistently promising a sunny, relatively cloudless and wind-free late Sunday afternoon. Needless to say I hadn’t bothered to check on the details of the “grotty” stuff and consequently I was rather surprised to see top of The Cobbler itself and several other mountains coated in snow when we arrived at the Succoth car park. Nevertheless, the sun was out and there was very little wind as promised, so how bad could it be? Well, quite bad as it turned out. A few people we met on the way up had been turned back by a blizzard, one poor fellow had been airlifted off mountain after a heart attack, and a rescue team was apparently still looking for someone else who’d fallen. Still, you don’t let little things like that hold you back when you’ve got a pair of enthusiastic Beagles on your team!

Out of the trees and getting closer to the Cobbler. No problems so far!

As we got closer we started seeing more and more snow, first bordering the path, and then eventually on the path itself. It slowed us down somewhat, but at least that “blizzard” we’d heard about had clearly departed, so we pressed on.

As we passed the great Narnain boulders we encountered another obstacle: a deer carcass. Beanie & Biggles knew about it a good minute before I did; they hauled me towards it like a crazed team of Huskies, and then abruptly stopped. As experienced Beagles I figured they’d be falling over themselves either to eat it or roll in it, but this deer had them completely stumped. They just stood there rooted to the spot, staring and sniffing. They didn’t want to leave it, but they didn’t know what to do with it. After nearly a minute, it was Biggles who finally came up with a course of action for handling this strange dead beast. It probably won’t surprise anyone to learn that his solution involved woofing. I don’t know whether he hoped to accomplish anything by his woofing, or whether he’d just gone for the most applicable of the four internationally approved Biggly-boy reactions to an unidentified object, which are:

• eat it
• roll in it
• pee on it
• woof at it

Either way, when I finally dragged him and Beanie away from the carcass he seemed quite satisfied that he’d done the right thing, and who was I to argue?

By the time we’d reached the base of the Cobbler extra layers and gloves had been put on and we now faced the toughest part of the walk: a winding rocky “staircase” that would take us up to the central area between the north and central peaks. On the best of days the staircase is a solid workout; the path zig-zags like a drunken snake and the spacing of the steps make it hard to establish a good rhythm. And it’s steep. Very steep. This time however the steps were almost entirely submerged in snow; the only trace of a path was the sunken footprints of the last people to have come down. Rather than trying to zig-zag up the slope, we pretty much slogged it straight up. It was hard going, requiring arms as well as legs, but to be honest I actually preferred it to the normal route.

Almost at the top of the snow-covered staircase. Beanie warms her bum on my camera bag, while Biggles shouts encouragement at his Mum

Sunset was already approaching as we reached the ridge between the two peaks. It was pretty obvious we wouldn’t make it up to the central peak in time, but the north peak was much closer and easier, so that’s what we headed for.

That’s it Mum! Keep going!

As we neared the summit I was finally able to hand my two furry companions over to Susan. I love them more than I can say, but after several hours of tugging them past deer carcasses and remnants of other walker’s sandwiches while constantly having to extract myself from their tangled leads, I was ready for a break!

Made it! Beagles and their Mum on top of the world!

See what I mean about the tangling? Nice one Beanie!

Usually I feel that the central peak offers the best views, but at sunset and with a blanket of snow over The Cobbler and the surrounding mountains, I’d like to think that the north peak was probably the best. Certainly I have no complaints about the visual feast we got to enjoy.

Of course the setting sun meant the clock was running out for natural light; we both wanted to be back at the base of The Cobbler before headtorches were needed. The trudge back to the top of the staircase went easily enough, but the steep slope down from there looked long, slow and not a little dangerous. After a difficult first few meters, a solution presented itself; we fell back on the time honored technique that many hillwalkers secretly employ when no-one else is there to see them. Yep, we slid down on our arses. If you’ve never tried going down a snow covered mountain on your bum while being dragged by a couple of crazy Beagles, I’m telling you, you NEED to try it. It’s the most terrific fun, until that is you hit a patch of ice and start picking up a little too much speed. Fortunately a couple of well-positioned rocks provided a breaking mechanism and we made it down to the base in record time with no injuries other than frostbitten bum-cheeks.

Safely off the mountain, we had time for a pitstop or two on the long trudge back to the car.