Just as on Christmas Day we attempted to celebrate Jan 1st by going up a hill. This time we picked a much more modest size of hill, and given that we only had to cope with mud and rain on the way up rather than snow and fog, I’m happy to report that our venture was entirely successful. The hill in question was Knock Hill near Largs. We’d been up there once before, and that time we’d had to sneak past a trio of geese. This time there were no geese, but there was a horse and rider wearing very provocative high visibility garments and a stroppy sheep. It’s at times like the these that you need an alert, experienced and powerful woofer in your party to keep everyone safe. We of course had Biggles with us, and earlier in the week he’d proved that he was up to the task…

While walking by a local farm we encountered a group of eight cows who’d escaped from their field. As soon as they laid eyes on us they began approaching, picking up speed with every step. I hurriedly checked behind us for an escape route but there was nearly a mile of fenced country lane between us and the nearest turning point. When I looked back, the cows were at jogging pace and barely 20m away from us. It wasn’t looking good, but in the nick of time Biggles adopted a particularly wide legged stance, raised his tail bolt upright, and let loose a woofing of biblical proportions. I expected the noise to turn the jog into a stampede, but as the the lead cow got within about 10m of us the vocal barrage melted his resolve. He ground to a halt, executed a surprisingly nimble 180 and accelerated away from us. His seven buddies followed suit, and both Beanie and Biggles saw them on their way with further woofing and baying. Job done!

Similarly on our way up Knock Hill Biggles immediately recognized the threat posed by the hi-vis horse and rider, and unleashed his sonic weapon. As often happens the humies in his party were oblivious to the yellow peril and tried to quiet him, but he was having none of it, and bravely drove the fluorescent villians off our path. Later a stroppy sheep appeared on the opposite bank of the river we were following. Again the woofing machine went into high gear and the sheep was sent packing. Unfortunately during this second defensive operation, Biggles’ woofing equipment developed a fault and remained locked in the “on” position for a further 90 minutes. Historically this has often been a failing with Biggles’ woofer. Hopefully it’s not a sign that 2013 is going to be a particularly noisy year!

Anyway, we reached the top of the hill and were treated to rapidly changing conditions. In the space of ten minutes the weather cycled from heavy cloud and rain to sun and blue skies, and back again. Despite getting wet and having to shelter my camera and clean rain spots off the lens every so often, I actually love this kind of weather. It often produces the most amazing light, turning even unremarkable scenery into a dramatic landscape.

And throughout all this, Mr Biggles’ faulty woofing gear kept on a-goin’!!

Our stay on the hilltop came to an end shortly after our supply of meat chip Bonios ran out, and we started on the long boggy trudge back to the car. We got rained on some more, and got treated to some more wonderfully lit scenery.

There are many ways to start a New Year but a picturesque hill walk with your Beagles, followed by a traditional steak pie dinner, has to be one of the better ones.

Seeking refuge from the traditional Christmas – i.e. eating too much then falling into a coma on the sofa in front of mind numbingly crap TV – we spent most of Dec 25th out in the hills around Arrochar. We hoped to walk to the top of Ben Ime (the highest of the Arrochar peaks) and celebrate Christmas on the summit huddled in our big orange storm shelter. We were certainly well equipped for the task; in addition to copious layers of clothing, snow spikes, blankets and thermally insulated mats, we had turkey sandwiches, mince pies, some naff tinsel and a small set of battery-operated Christmas lights. Unfortunately our plans went down the toilet faster than projectile vomit from the mouth of a norovirus victim.

The main problem, as you might guess, was the weather. Visibility on the hills was dramatically reduced by heavy mist/fog, and Ben Ime itself was almost completely covered in deep snow. We bravely walked a little of the way up, but our spirit of adventure gave way to common sense when we got hit by a heavy, wind-driven sleet shower. Out came the storm shelter and we hurriedly threw it over ourselves, our Beagles and our rucksacks as we perched on a lump of rock. Ben Ime was no longer on the menu, and sadly neither were the turkey sarnies and Christmas decorations. Why? Well the fact is there’s just not that much room in our shelter, and when you’ve got a hungry, shivering Beanie on your lap the last thing you want to be doing is wrestling with tinsel and sandwich boxes.

I promise I won’t try to eat your sandwiches and mince pies. Honest.

I can’t say it was particularly comfortable in the shelter, but at least it did warm up quite quickly. Whatever material that big orange bag is made out of, it’s good at trapping warm air and keeping out the elements.  Too good in fact. It has two vents to allow gas exchange, but unfortunately/fortunately (depending on your species)  these vents are the perfect size for Beagle heads. Beanie was the first to ram her head down a vent, but shortly after Biggles found the other vent on his side and blocked it also. At this point, both of our Beagles had an unlimited supply of fresh mountain air, while we were trapped inside the shelter with their little furry bottoms. It soon got pretty funky in there I can tell you, even though none of us had consumed any Brussels sprouts yet. When the shower eventually subsided I made a hasty escape!

The sleet shower has gone! Beanie & Biggles join me outside, while Susan – having succumbed to the foul botty gases – remains inside

As often happens, the end of the shower heralded a brief spell of dry, clearer weather and I was able to take a few shots. The Cobbler and Ben Ime never once lost their misty shroud however.

We packed up and started the long trudge back to the car. Every now and then we got a thorough soaking, but at least this time it was just plain rain with little or no wind. Each time a shower passed we were treated to another brief spell of better weather, even the odd burst of sunlight!

Just before we descended into the forest we seized a last chance to put our Christmas decorations to use..

Back at home, chilled to the bone and consumed by hunger, the four us ate enough food for a small army, crashed out on the sofa and fell into a group coma in front of an endless stream of crap compilation shows and repeats on the telly. I guess there’s no escaping Christmas tradition after all!

The next day – following an early run on the beach and a visit to relatives – we finally got round to that other Christmas tradition: opening the presents. Experience has taught us that its largely a waste of money to buy posh pressies for our two doglets. They’re just as happy – happier in fact – with a pile of treat filled boxes to rip apart. Yep, the best way to a waggy Beagle is wanton destruction followed by food!

Fortunately for us, this Nokia box hadn’t housed a mobile phone for some time. Not that Biggles would have cared either way!

Why bother unwrapping when you can just stick your whole head in there?

Of course that technique can result in a bad case of “box-head”

Eventually our two hit upon a couple of boxes holding a something more substantial: tripe-filled bones!

Mid way through her bone, Beanie couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d missed something in one of the boxes. She started rummaging through the debris and eventually confirmed her suspicions: there were still a few crumbs in the box that had come from the Beagles Bakery.

It’s never a good idea to leave your primary treat unguarded though. Biggles may be hen-pecked and beaten down by his sister at times, but he’s still brave enough to swap his mostly finished bone for hers when she’s otherwise occupied..

Simple plans work best: just drop my bone, take hers and scarper to the other side of the room!

Job done!

Surprising though it may seem, Beanie was quite happy with the swap. She’d been having a hard time crunching through the bone to the extra tasty bit in the middle but now she had one that Biggles had prepared for her!

Peace and contentment amid the carnage..

When Bonfire Night comes around we generally get the dog walks done early – before nightfall – to avoid the fireworks. This time around our main walk was really, really early, as in before 5am, and our destination was The Cobbler!

Having walked up The Cobbler (or Ben Arthur, as it’s also called) for sunrise once before we knew it would be very cold up there, so the day before our climb we headed out to Mountain Warehouse in Ayr to get more warm clothing. Mountain Warehouse welcomes dogs so of course we took our two monkeys along for the ride. We were hoping that maybe Beanie could advise on the warmth and softness of fleecy jackets, while Biggles – with his extensive nibbling experience – could be our sock expert. Unfortunately neither of our clothing consultants were much use; Beanie just kept mugging the staff for treats (which were not forthcoming BTW) while Biggles seemed to be overwhelmed by the shopping experience. He has a totally sock-driven view of economics, so when he wound up surrounded by socks in the shop it must have been like a human finding himself in a room filled with stacks of gold and diamonds. With so much wealth on display, where to start?

Fortunately we managed to get some useful new gear without any assistance from the tailed members of our party, and by 4:45 on the 5th November we were on our way up a mountain. Sunrise was due around 7:35. Ordinarily this would have left us with ample time to reach the top before the sun appeared, but we were blissfully unaware there’d been heavy snowfall in the area over the weekend. On the lower sections of the route snow on the path had melted then refrozen making things rather slippy. Higher up, the snow was still thick and soft. This made for surprisingly good grip but concealed the path, making each step an adventure. Sometimes you’d find a solid chunk of rock just under the surface, other times you’d sink right up to you thigh in the white stuff. If it was hard going for us, it was even tougher for the two short arses we had with us. A couple of times Biggles nearly submerged up to his ears and I had to lift him out by the handle on his harness and put him onto more solid ground. Nevertheless, somehow we made it to the central summit just before sunrise.

A brief moment of contemplation before the sun shows itself

I put on Beanie & Biggles’ coats as soon as I could put down my rucksack, but the sun appeared before I had time to put on extra layers myself. As often happens, it actually seemed to get even colder & windier when the sun first rose! Within a few minutes I was fighting to control my shivering and my hands were almost too cold to operate the camera. The shots I got however, were well worth it!

Soon even our hardy pampered Beagles were feeling the cold so Susan deployed our Vango “bothy in a bag”. For  a while I stayed outside taking shots, but that big orange bag kept drawing my attention. It frequently changed shape and I could hear strange munching noses coming from within it, occasionally punctuated by Susan saying things like “Beanie get out of my rucksack” and “Biggles get off Beanie’s head”.

When I couldn’t take the cold any longer I sought refuge in the shelter and finally got to see what all the commotion was about. Beanie had found a snout-sized opening in Susan’s rucksack and had chomped her way through a substantial number of cheesy biscuits, while Biggles was desperately trying to make a bed in the snow even though Susan had put down our waterproofs for him & Beanie to sit on. Even when he’s on good form Biggles is the most hopeless bed maker in the world; he frequently ends up lying on the plastic base of his crate in the car, with his chin just about resting on his ruckled up vet bed. I mean, how hard can it be to just get in there, circle a couple of times and lie down? Anyway, up on the mountain he kept making rings in the snow then, on discovering that even brushed snow is still cold, he seemed determined to try to sit on Beanie. Sitting on one’s volatile sister is rarely a good idea, but doing it while she’s trying to snaffle more cheesy biscuits is just plain suicidal. Fortunately no argument broke out and with both Susan and me in there, some semblance of order was eventually restored.

Once I’d warmed up a bit I grabbed a couple more shots of the “eye of the needle” rock structure, and then we packed up and turned our attention to thing we were both dreading: the return journey.

The needle structure, with the moon still visible in the upper right corner

A peak through the “eye”. How anybody manages to clamber through that and climb to the top of the  structure is beyond me. One slip and its 900 metres down, the fast way!

Amazingly the journey back down wasn’t the nightmare we expected it to be; if anything it was easier than normal, provided we steered through the fresh snow to the side of the path. Beanie & Biggles loved bounding through the white stuff, and as the sun climbed higher in the sky we could at last feel its warmth.

By the time we reached the last of the Narnain boulders most of the snow and ice was gone, we’d taken off our extra layers and Beanie & Biggles’ coats were dangling from my rucksack. If we’d have known about the snow beforehand we probably wouldn’t have attempted the walk. As it was, we’d seen The Cobbler at its very best, cloaked in snow, and were on our way home to stuff our faces and sleep through the fireworks with clean consciences (not that Beagles ever have any moral concerns when it comes to eating and sleeping).