A tale of ice and fire. And bogs. Part#5

Posted on April 26, 2015 by Paul

So far we’ve had icy cold, bogs, naughty room training and a tick, but no fire; that came our visit to Castle Stalker in Appin, the final adventure of our Highland trip. This short and flat walk starts out in a layby, and takes you across a long, low and very narrow wooden bridge. During particularly high tides even the bridge can be submerged beneath the surface of Loch Laich, but on this occasion it was thoroughly dry. It was however still a challenge to get to the other side, because the planks going across it are widely spaced, and Biggles does not like that one little bit.

He seemed OK for the first few yards, but then he dug his front paws in and froze. Rather than simply picking him up and carrying him, Susan just gently coaxed him along. It took a while. A long, long while.

But eventually he made it, and immediately returned to his normal cocky self as we walked along the shore by the castle. Other dog walkers and photographers all received a stern woofing! I love the way my boy can instantly put bad experiences behind him; it’s a good way to be.

The area around the castle is renowned for spectacular sunsets, but this evening was colorless and grey. I took a few long exposure shots, the sunset came and went behind the clouds, and I was all ready to pack up when some of the clouds started to pink up. I kept taking shots and a few minutes later it looked like the sky behind the castle was on fire.

From grey…

To spectacularly colorful, and all this well after the official sunset time. Click the above pano to see a larger image.

The colorful show continued long after sunset, with the sky turning a deep red as we retraced our steps to the wooden bridge. Biggles trotted onto it quite happily, and this time made it to the half-way point before a steady supply of biscuits was needed to coax him to the other side. The last night of our holiday we all slept soundly in our caravan, and in the morning we packed up and drove home. But not before Beanie had one last stint in the naughty room.

Part 1: http://www.fourleggedpal.com/2015/04/23/a-tale-of-ice-and-fire-and-bogs-part1/
Part 2: http://www.fourleggedpal.com/2015/04/24/a-tale-of-ice-and-fire-and-bogs-part2/
Part 3: http://www.fourleggedpal.com/2015/04/25/a-tale-of-ice-and-fire-and-bogs-part3/
Part 4: http://www.fourleggedpal.com/2015/04/26/a-tale-of-ice-and-fire-and-bogs-part4/

A tale of ice and fire. And bogs. Part#4

Posted on April 26, 2015 by Paul

The next day we were back on the ferry – this time as foot passengers. This was a much more satisfactory arrangement for the furry types. Finally they were able to sniff the air and poke their noses under, over and through everything in reach.

Beanie samples the air like a true connoisseur

Spying on the vehicles as they park up on the lower deck

Why do Beagles so love to stick their heads through things? Probably just because they can..

Still fatigued from the previous day’s exertions, we just had a gentle stroll around Ardgour – the little village by the ferry port. It has its own miniature lighthouse, a pub, an abandoned rowing boat, and a short stretch of two-lane road – both lanes of which are for use by the local sheep. Biggles stayed surprisingly calm as the sheep passed us; perhaps he was afraid that if he badmouthed them, they’d all come over and beat him up.

Then it was back to the caravan to rest in preparation for another night-time climb: a section of The Devil’s Staircase just outside of Glencoe. Or at least that was the plan, but Beanie had other ideas. Time and again she leaped up onto the worktop to investigate the cooking equipment, and time and again I grabbed her in mid-leap, locked her in the naughty room, and asked for a paw on her release. She was really trying my patience. Why wasn’t she learning this simple lesson? Regardless, eventually she just gave up and settled down for a nap, allowing me to do the same.

When we eventually got up to pack for the walk, Beanie was instantly back up on the worktop. As I moved to grab her she nabbed a quick lick of the grill, jumped back to the floor and ran into the naughty room, where she sat neatly ready to give me her paw. So there you go – it seemed she had learned the lesson after all!

The walk itself was a pleasant departure from our other adventures; it was a short and easy drive away, with no hassle from monstrous cows or stroppy sheep, and minimal bog. It was admittedly still a bit chilly, but not overly so, and we had plenty of time to enjoy the pre-sunrise colors on the way up to the final cairn.

The colorful glow before sunrise can often be prettier than the sunrise itself..

Beautiful scenery or not, when there’s a big pile of stones to clamber over you can always count on Biggles to do his duty!

Sunrise!

One of the great things about this short section of The Devil’s Staircase is that after all the colors have faded, you still have the majesty of Glencoe ahead of you as you retrace your steps back to the car. Even Beanie and Biggles seemed happy to hang out for a while and soak in the views.

While getting some of those shots I had to crouch and even lie down in the heather. I didn’t give this a thought, until later that day when I went for a shower. As I soaped myself up, I spotted what looked like a tiny piece of gravel in the skin of right hip, and went to brush it off, but it seemed really stuck in there. I aimed a bit of water at it, and to my horror, saw tiny little legs unfold from it and wriggle. Then I remembered the heather, and everything clicked: I’d picked up a tick! Obviously I’m no stranger to removing ticks from Beanie and Biggles, but I never expected I’d be rushing out of the shower only half-dried to use the doggy tick extractor tool on myself. I must confess to being a bit squeamish about this kind of thing; I can never watch those “monsters inside me” programs on the telly. Nevertheless, I took a deep breath, grabbed the little bugger in the tool’s plastic jaws, twisted and pulled. It took a surprising amount of force to pull it free, and I had a little involuntary shiver as I consigned it to a slow death in the toxic fluids of our chemical toilet. I had hopes that Biggles might show some sympathy toward me after my distressing experience; after all he’s had loads of ticks on previous highland trips and I’ve always been there to get them off him and give him a biccie for being such a brave boy. But no.. all I got was this:

So you had a tick Dad? Too bad. Gimme a tummy tickle!

Part 1: http://www.fourleggedpal.com/2015/04/23/a-tale-of-ice-and-fire-and-bogs-part1/
Part 2: http://www.fourleggedpal.com/2015/04/24/a-tale-of-ice-and-fire-and-bogs-part2/
Part 3: http://www.fourleggedpal.com/2015/04/25/a-tale-of-ice-and-fire-and-bogs-part3/
Part 5: http://www.fourleggedpal.com/2015/04/26/a-tale-of-ice-and-fire-and-bogs-part5/

A tale of ice and fire. And bogs. Part#3

Posted on April 25, 2015 by Paul

Having finished at Ardnamurchan lighthouse we got back on the road and drove round to the start point of the main route up Ben Hiant – a hill that’s modest in height but big on views. We wanted to be up at the top in plenty of time for sunrise, but given that it was only mid-April we still had a good few hours to kill. Out came three sleeping bags – one each for me and Susan, and one to drape over the pups’ car crates – and we did our best to fall asleep in the car. For once we did in fact nod off a bit. Obviously car seats don’t make great beds and it was cold even with the sleeping bags, but we did get just enough shut-eye to recharge our batteries for the walk.

The outline of the hill above us, with a galaxy full of stars on display

I think Beanie & Biggles got some zzzzs too; I heard gentle snoring coming from behind my seat a few times. On the other hand I also heard someone telling off their bed quite vigorously. Regardless, they both seemed extremely perky the instant we got them out of their crates and into their harnesses.

The ascent was mostly gentle, with a few short but very steep sections, but once again I found myself trudging through bog. My main hillwalking shoes were still drying out in the caravan, so I was wearing my backup pair which have even less water resistance. It didn’t take much squelching through the mud and swampy vegetation before my feet were soaking wet. As the walk progressed the pups became very animated and Biggles had a grunting, squealing and baying session, but it wasn’t until we made it to the base of the final climb that I saw confirmation that we had company: a pair of green, glowing eyes was looking down at us from the summit. I stopped and stared at them, they stared back, and then a second pair of peepers came into view. I have to say it was a little spooky, especially as I couldn’t make out what manner of creature they belonged to. I guessed from Biggles’ moderate level of noise production that we were probably in the presence of sheep; conspicuous silence I now knew was indicative of a giant highland cow, while manic baying is usually reserved deer. A little more height confirmed the sheep theory, but they’d sensibly decided to move on by the time we reached their position.

We camped out by the summit pillar with more than hour to go before sunrise. There were no decent shots to be taken and it was really chilly, so Susan extracted a sleeping bag from her rucksack and opened it out to make a windbreak for the two of us. Never one to miss out on a chance for snuggle, Biggles soon clambered under the sleeping bag and squeezed in between us. I tried to get Beanie to join us too, but she wasn’t interested. All her attention was focused on some point off in the distance. I’m not sure if she was spying on a sheep or if she was studying the lights from a nearby hamlet, but when sunrise came she was still intently watching the same spot.

Beanie keeps her silent, shivery vigil..

..completely missing the beautiful sunrise.

Only once it was properly daylight was she finally free to take an interest in the other sniffs and views that were on offer

Even in the full sun it was way too cold to stay up there any longer, so we packed up and trudged back through seemingly never-ending bog to our car.

Post-hillwalk breakfast, and another pair of water-logged shoes..

Back at the car Beanie and Biggles had their full, normal breakfast while we shared half a packet of leftover cashew nuts. As I exchanged my soaking wet shoes for my very last dry pair, we decided to make a little stop off at one of the beaches on the peninsula, then try to find a cafe somewhere that would serve a more substantial breakfast to us humies. As it turned out, both of these objectives involved an improbable amount of driving on that hairy single-track road.

A paddle for Susan & the pups on the beautiful beach at Sanna, with the lighthouse in the background.

Somehow I managed to keep my feet dry on the beach, but as we walked towards some interesting rocks a little further north we had to squelch through yet another bog and suddenly my final pair of shoes weren’t dry anymore.

The next objective was to find a cafe. Susan had visited Ardnamurchan about thirty years earlier and back then it’d had almost nothing but a single shop that sold two-day old newspapers and vegetables that were still covered in soil. Surely during all that time things had improved? Absolutely! As the miles stacked up we passed no less than three shops, and about twenty minutes out from the ferry terminal we finally found somewhere serving breakfast. The food was great, but it’s worth noting that payment was by cash only; that newfangled credit card thing hasn’t quite made it to Ardnamurchan yet. Maybe in another 30 years?

Part 1: http://www.fourleggedpal.com/2015/04/23/a-tale-of-ice-and-fire-and-bogs-part1/
Part 2: http://www.fourleggedpal.com/2015/04/24/a-tale-of-ice-and-fire-and-bogs-part2/
Part 4: http://www.fourleggedpal.com/2015/04/26/a-tale-of-ice-and-fire-and-bogs-part4/
Part 5: http://www.fourleggedpal.com/2015/04/26/a-tale-of-ice-and-fire-and-bogs-part5/