We’ve just spent a whole night on the top of a mountain! What’s more, we did so through choice and not because one of our Beagles pulled a Houdini and ran off during a hillwalk!

The mountain in question was Goat Fell on the Isle of Arran. We’d been up Goat Fell once before; that had been a there-and-back daytime trip which meant walking up the mountain in uncomfortable heat. This time we’d planned to dodge the hottest part of the day by going up in the early evening in time for sunset, wild-camping the night away on the summit, then returning the following morning before the sun got cooking. We’d been waiting for months for the right conditions to come along: mountain and ground-level weather forecasts that would give us a decent chance of good views, with winds low enough not to be a threat, and predicted summit temperatures comfortably above zero. Finally the weather gods gave us our shot, and we took it!

Since we wouldn’t be starting the climb until quite late in the day we were able to go over to Arran on the ferry at a fairly civilized time. I don’t know if we got the exact same vessel as last time, but I’m happy to report that it was just as accommodating to the four legged voyager, albeit rather busy.

The railings allow Beanie to poke her head through for a last look at the mainland as we get under way

It’s much busier than last time, so there isn’t much scope for checking under all the seats for crumbs and other edible debris

Once on Arran we headed straight to a campsite and booked in for a single night. This might seem redundant as we wouldn’t be spending the night there, but it gave us a place to hang out plus easy access to showers and so on. We’d brought two tents with us – one to act as our base on the campsite, and another very light one for our mountain adventure –  plus a couple of folding chairs. Having erected all of the above we had some time to kill..

Initially Biggles took a liking to the blue deck chair, but he swapped it for the director-style chair after an unfortunate incident that left him with a bruised bottom. You see the leg-rest part of it only stays up while you’re sitting back in the chair. The second you sit forward (maybe in response to Beanie trying to force her tongue down your throat to nick your lunch), the leg rest drops away suddenly and anything on it, such as a Bigglet, gets dumped on the ground without warning.

One sore bottom later and no-one’s willing to trust that dodgy blue thing!

The grass is a much safer proposition, and parts of it are gloriously smelly!!

Eventually we’d had all the coffee, treats, sun and ice-cream we could handle and it was time for the first real challenge: getting up to the top of Goat Fell in time for sunset. Every available pocket and compartment in our rucksacks and clothing were filled with provisions and gear. We had snacks for us, snacks for the dogs, torches, extra layers of clothing, a small tent, and water. Lots and lots of water. I felt like I was carrying 15-20kg on my back, and Susan’s rucksack wasn’t much lighter. What’s more it was still pretty warm, even though the hottest part of the day was well behind us. Despite all of this it we made very good time and the whole ascent seemed much shorter and easier than last time.

Nearly at the ridge, with only the final push to the summit ahead of us

As we approached the summit we passed the last of the daytime walkers on their way back down, and it was looking like we’d have the mountain to ourselves. And so we did, if you don’t count the several thousand midges that were up there with us. Every now and then a gentle breeze would drive them away, but I was very grateful I’d remembered to stash some insect repellent in one of my pockets!

With plenty of time still to go before sunset the four of us explored the area around the summit, partly to take in the views and partly to find a good spot to pitch our tent. Goat Fell is covered in interestingly shaped boulders which make great seats, but there are relatively few flat, grassy areas suitable for a tent.

In the end we decided that the best location was a big slab of flat rock by the summit itself. Admittedly this wasn’t particularly soft under one’s bottom (especially after the unfortunate incident with the deck chair) but it was flat, solid and somewhat sheltered by boulders and the summit triangulation pillar itself. We erected our tiny tent, and I served up a small kibble meal for the pups. It was later than their usual tea time repast and didn’t come in their bowls, but given that we were up a mountain they seemed willing to accept this reduction in quality of service.

As Susan and the pups got ready to watch the sunset from the relative comfort of the tent, I went on a hunt for photographs..

Camp Beagle, by the official summit of Goat Fell

The rock and boulder-strewn landscape of Goat Fell looks like a scene from a sci-fi movie in the late evening light

Once the sun went down a steady breeze blew in and the midges all but disappeared. I grabbed a last couple of shots and headed back to the tent with the intention of sleeping till sunrise.

I say the “intention of sleeping” with good reason, because precious little sleep actually occurred. Even as I’d been taking the shot of our tent on the summit I’d heard Beanie getting very frustrated with the bed, and that frustration continued well into the night. We had the luxury of air-filled mats and inflatable pillows so we could have been quite comfortable were it not for a couple Beagles that like to stretch out and sleep in the horizontal configuration. There was a lot of grumbling. Paws were pushed into mouths, crotches and armpits, and further Beagle attempts to “make the bed” resulted pillows and sleeping bags ending up in strange places. And of course, there was farting. As if all that wasn’t bad enough, both Susan and I had made the mistake of bringing all our snacks into the tent with us. Every so often – but usually just as I was about nod off – Beanie decided to make a bid for the snacks. She’s a very determined little girl, our Beanie, and it can be surprisingly difficult to extract her snout from your coat pocket when you’re in a cramped tent on the top of a mountain.

Eventually I did fall asleep, but almost immediately my watch alarm went off and it was time to exit the tent for sunrise. I zipped down the front flap of our tent and saw a very unexpected but beautiful sight..

The weather forecasts had got it wrong, but in the best possible way!

We were above the clouds – something Susan and I have wanted to experience for some time. That it should have happened now, on this special all-nighter on Goat Fell, was the most amazing good luck. We harnessed up the pups and got them out to see the spectacle, but they seemed singularly unimpressed. On previous trips we’ve noted that Beanie & Biggles seem to have an appreciation for sunrise and sunset – something primal that’s shared by dogs and humans alike – but apparently this fluffy white carpet wasn’t anything to write home about.

Yeah, yeah it’s great. Now can we go back to the tent ‘cos our noses are telling us that there are biscuits left in there..

Now that’s what I’m talking about!

I roamed about the summit getting more shots, sometimes getting engulfed by the misty clouds myself.

Sunrise is happening somewhere behind those distant clouds..

Sunrise came and went but the sun never quite managed to poke out from behind a distant bank of cloud. We hung around a while to see if the cloud would shift, but instead it grew thicker and a chilling wind started to blow. We’d already been incredibly lucky with the weather, so we decided to pack up and head back down to civilization, showers, and breakfast. At this point visibility had fallen to 20-30 metres, but fortunately the path down from Goat Fell was obvious and easy to follow so we had no navigational problems. The low cloud we experienced on the mountain hung over the whole of Arran for much of the day, and was still present as we boarded the ferry back to the mainland. This was strangely satisfying; we’d had the best of the weather and made the most it, and now it was time for some serious napping.

We’ve had some surprisingly good weather during May, and yet through all of it our caravan has sat unused on our drive. Clearly this couldn’t be allowed to continue, so we headed up to Glen Coe for a mini holiday.

The first couple of days passed without any major expeditions; we went on some low level walks around the pyramid-like Buachaille Etive Mor..

and we went in search of The Grey Mare’s Tail. The latter got Beanie & Biggles very excited; the tail end of a horse is where the poo comes out, and horse poo is a delicacy that no self-respecting Beagle can refuse! They followed the trail with great enthusiasm, leaping over fallen trees, climbing steep hills and crossing raging torrents..

And yet despite all this effort and two of the most powerful sniffers this world has to offer, Beanie & Biggles never found the illusive grey mare, let alone her poo deposits. All they got instead were wet paws at some poxy waterfall!

Nope, there’s no horse poo down there. Dammit!

Naughtiness was bound to follow a huge disappointment such as this. Sure enough, at lunchtime –  just as Susan was serving up chicken and mushroom pasties – I spotted a tick crawling on someone’s furry bottom. I grabbed some tweesers, nabbed the little bugger and sentenced it to death by chemical toilet. On my return I found that my pastie was no longer intact; there was a vaguely triangular chunk missing from it’s left side, and Biggles was working his tongue round his mouth trying to dislodge thin slivers of pastry from his teeth. I looked at him, and he looked right back at me defiantly as if to say “that’s just the start. If you want a full lunch you’d better take us on a proper adventure!” There was also a brief and highly inadvisable attempt to start a chase in the caravan with a toilet roll.

Obviously a substantial hillwalk was needed to quell the peasants’ revolt, and there’s no shortage of them in Glen Coe, but which one? The Pap? Done it. Ben Bevis? Too long and too busy. But what about Buachaille Etive Beag? Perfect! After all it’s almost got “Beagle” in its title and it gives you two Munro-qualifying peaks in the one walk. Unfortunately it also has a section along a ridge that, from other’s photographs, appears to be knife-edge narrow. Would it really be suitable for safe Beagle traversal? According to Susan there was one easy way to find out: send me up it alone one morning, and if I came back alive, we could all do it together the next day.

Being a keen photographer I wanted to catch this special two-headed mountain in special light, so I decided to set off super early to be on the first of its peaks at sunrise. At this time of year, super early means 2.30am, so I needed to get as much sleep as possible beforehand. It’s very tough to move around in our little caravan once the two dog crates are in place, so we decided that we’d let the Beagles sleep in bed with us, making my early morning escape a little easier. The drawback? Biggles decided to unleash his woeful bed-making skills on my bunk. More than once during my desperately short night I was awoken by a grumbling Biggles as he tore away the covers and circled with them to form an uneven Beagle-filled lump in the bottom corner of the bed. So, at 2.30am I was bound for the car park below Buachaille Etive Beagle with little more than two hours’ sleep in the bank.

I was armed with various torches (including one that can illuminate a spot from more than 100m away – I’m very proud of that one and it cost less than a tenner on Amazon), but I didn’t need ’em. Even at that delicate time of the morning there was sufficient light to see the path. The route goes like this: you walk up to a central dip or “bealach” between the two peaks, then do the peak on one side, return to the center and do the the other side, then back to the center and down. Determined to beat the sunrise I hammered up the first stage as fast as I could, which wasn’t very fast as it was steep as hell. At about 45 minutes into the walk I saw a very bright light up ahead of me. I figured it was torchlight from some intrepid campers up on the bealach, and my heart sank. I was greedily looking forward to having this mountain to myself, with no restrictions on how long I spent photographing its delights, but clearly that was not to be. Worse still, these campers had a torch that was even more powerful than mine. Bummer! And yet, as I drew closer to the light source I realized that it was in fact the moon.

384,400 km away and you can still see that bright light. It must eat batteries for breakfast though, and I bet it cost much more than a tenner.

On reaching the bealach I took a moment to recover and had a swig of chocolate flavored milk, which has got me through a lot of tough challenges in my life. I’d made good time and had the option of doing either of the peaks first: Stob Coire Raineach to my left which was closest, or Stob Dubh which was further away and at the end of the ridge. I went left, thinking that any spare time before sunrise could be spent finding a good place for photographs. That was a very, very, very good call:

It wasn’t easy to tear myself away from that view and continue on the rest of the walk, but I had to do it. Heading back down to the bealach should have been trivial, but while the path between it and the summit is obvious on the way up, it’s not so clear on the way back down. I mistook a winding scree slope for the true path and my journey down was rather faster and more exciting than it should have been. As they say on the motoring show Top Gear: “a bit of poo came out”. Still, it was better to make mistakes like this while solo rather than with two crazy Beagles tied to my waist!

The walk to the second peak was thoroughly enjoyable. It was nowhere near as tough as the march up to the bealach, the ridge was in fact reassuringly wide and all the while there were beautiful views to the front, and looking back over my shoulder.

In due course I reached the summit cairn of Stob Dubh, but found it to be less photogenic than a second cairn further on but lower in height. The wind was picking up speed now and it was chilly enough to make my nose run, even in full sun. I reached for a hanky and discovered I had half a Tesco dog biscuit knocking around in one of my pockets (I always like to keep a biccie and a poo bag in my pocket. On occasion I’ve even left biccie desposits on the floor of my local gym while doing my ab routine). I symbolically placed this on the second cairn, ready and waiting to be grabbed by one of my ever-hungry Beagles the next day.

Yeah it’s only half a biccie, but it’s the thought that counts, right?

I hung around on Stob Dubh for some time taking more photos…

By the time I headed back some clouds had blown in which made for even more dramatic views of the ridge..

I made it back to the caravan without incident so now a second trip with the whole pack was on the cards. This time his Biggleship decided to leave the bed making to me and I got a semi-decent sleep. My legs were far from fresh of course, but Beagle power helped me up to the first peak in plenty of time for a second sunrise. This time around the sun was obscured by cloud, but it was still very beautiful.

Susan’s even less keen on heights than me, but after a little snack break she bravely headed out onto the ridge with Beanie & Biggles tied to her belt.

On reaching the Stob Dubh summit our Beagles searched high and low for the biccie I’d told them about, and during the course of this search the cairn itself took a little, er, damage. Fortunately Susan was able to effect repairs..

We never did find that biccie, but apparently Beanie & Biggles were still satisfied with their adventure because there were no further pastie-chomping incidents.