What do you buy for a little girl that has everything? It was Beanie’s birthday and aside from a squeaky copy of the ‘Dogmopolitan’ (on sale for 70p in Tesco) we couldn’t think of anything she might like that she hasn’t already got. At four she’s a bit old for birthday parties so we decided upon a birthday camping trip to the West Highlands.

We set off at the crack of dawn on Thursday morning and got settled in with just enough time left for a walk up the Pap of Glencoe before darkness fell. At just 742 metres high the Pap of Glencoe isn’t a particularly big mountain but its steep and distinctive cone-shaped summit is a real landmark in the area around Ballachulish.

We’d read that the final ascent is very rocky and scrambly – which makes for a very tricky descent when attached to our Beagles. We decided to invest in a pair of cheap walking poles to see if they’d help any. I found them to be a real hindrance on the way up – they made me feel (and look) like an OAP. I can’t comment on how helpful they might be on the way back down as the boggy slopes of the mountain had swallowed the bottom section of both poles before we reached the summit leaving me with two useless stumps.

We approached the summit at about 5.00pm leaving us just an hour and a half to enjoy the views then make our way back down before dark. As I scrambled up the final few feet it occurred to me that Beanie’s line was much longer than Biggles’ – how could that be? She was now quite a distance from me. Then it dawned on me – her lead had somehow unclipped and my wayward little Beagle girl was loose on a mountain. I forced down the sheer panic building inside me and called out a cheerie “Beanie – here!”. I can’t tell you how relieved I was when my little angel turned her head, wagged her tail and trotted over to me. Clearly she hadn’t realized she was loose – if she had, I think she’d have legged it in search of the bellowing stag on the neighboring mountain and we’d have been shivering at the top of the mountain in pitch darkness waiting for her to get bored and come back to us!

Beanie safely back on lead. The views are so spectacular in all directions that we couldn’t agree on what way to look!

We got back to the car just as darkness fell.

Biggles, or Brother Biggles as I should now call him, has apparently taken a solemn vow of silence. I can think of no other way to explain how we managed to walk to, and return from, the summit of Schiehallion with so few aarffing incidents.

Unlike the human vow of silence, it seems the Beagle version doesn’t require complete abstinence from vocalisation. There are exclusion clauses covering minor woofings related to:

• sheep
• postmen
• people with strange hats
• sisters who steal your place on the sofa

Clause#1 saw some use just as we exited the Braes of Foss car park and started our ascent, but this aarffage was half-hearted and very shortlived, exactly in line with Biggles’ vow. Thereafter he stayed quiet – even when we passed another couple with a very woofy Wiemaraner – and we made it to the start of the rock-strewn upper section of the mountain without any illicit outbursts.

An excellent path takes you a fair way up the mountain

But after that the route becomes increasingly rocky

Pretty soon, you’re having to pick your way over and around rocks of all shapes and sizes

It’s a walk that should be attempted by only the most intrepid explorers

We passed a few other walkers, some with  sticks and even hats, but Biggles managed to keep his peace.

Soon the small pile of stones marking the summit came into view, and still Brother Biggles kept his vow of (almost) silence.

Made it!

At the top we discovered a lone red rose that had been inserted into the cairn by an earlier walker.

It was a lovely gesture, which Beanie repaid by knocking half of the cairn stones right back down the mountain.

Er.. Oops

Visibility wasn’t particularly good this time around – we’d seen a lot more of the surrounding scenery on our previous visit – but the great thing about Schiehallion is that its rocky terrain is a view in itself.

The scents at the top were great though; Beanie and Biggles stood virtually motionless for minutes at a time as the mountain breezes brought new aromas to their eager noses. Only the opening of our traditional summit sandwiches snapped them back out of their nasal “condor” moment.

Having surrendered a sandwich each to our Beagles, we packed up and set off back down. This is always the most testing time for our little boy. I don’t what it is about going down a mountain that excites him so much, but if he’s going to have a serious aarrfing session, it’ll happen on the way down. This time however, it didn’t. I had both Beanie and Biggles tied to me for the return journey and though they were eager to keep moving neither of them fell into a baying frenzy. We did admittedly get a very minor outburst from the two of them as we passed by those pesky sheep near the bottom (again), but it was over in seconds. Well, a couple of minutes anyway . OK, five minutes at the most, but as already stated a brief sheep-related aarrffing session is permitted by the Beagle Vow of Silence. Susan was so pleased with Biggles’ new found self control that she picked him up and gave him hugs and kisses when we got back the car.

Very embarassing, Mum! I mean, I’m three years old now, you know?

During the long drive back we stopped in Aberfeldy for fish & chips, and some left-over fish and a couple of chips somehow made it into Beanie & Biggles bowls when we got home.

The Lake District is rightly famous for its beautiful lakes and its mountains, but from our point of view it has a few other noteworthy features. For starters, many of its so-called major “A” roads are actually narrow, endlessly winding single tracks that are a nightmare for anyone towing a caravan (that would be me). It also has some ridiculously expensive pay-and-display car parks. On the plus side, it is tremendously dog friendly, to the extent that some shopkeepers appear slightly hurt when we decline their invitation to bring our two naughty Beagles inside. “They look so well behaved, and there’s nothing in there they could eat”. Ha! Wrong on both counts.

One other notable feature of the Lakes is the preponderance of silly names, like “Lesser Craggly Bottom” and “Wrinkly Winklethwaite”. It’s as though an ancient naked hippie went scampering through the entire region on a cold windy day and named everything after parts of his anatomy. To be fair I should confess that the above examples aren’t real, but what about “Skiddaw”? If it makes you think of soiled underwear you’re not alone, yet that is the actual name of the fourth highest, and possibly most visitor-friendly, mountain in the area.

There are two popular routes up to the top of Streaky Underpants; one goes from Keswick town centre, while a shorter 6 mile trail starts in a car park part of the way up. Due mainly to shortage of time (we’d only just set up the caravan and there wasn’t much afternoon left) we chose the latter.

The Howell Memorial, near the start of the route

The path quickly steepens and begins to zig-zag which provides a great excuse for taking frequent breaks and admiring the views that open up almost immediately.

After a while the path splits; you can continue straight on through a gate to go direct to the summit of Skiddaw, or you can branch left and take in a couple of minor peaks before rejoining the main path. We were keen to get the most out of the walk so we took the left branch, and consulting the guide I discovered that the two peaks are known as “Lesser Man” and “Little Man”. It’s kind of a shame they didn’t call the first one “Little Boy”, because our little boy definitely enjoyed the scramble up to the top!

The summit of Lesser Man, marked by a pile of stones and twisted metal, with Little Man beyond it.

Little Girl and Little Boy lead the way

It’s windy up there, with lots of flapping ear action

Looking back at Lesser Man..

And forward toward Little Man

We now rejoined the main path to the summit of Skiddaw. Thanks to the high wind and many groups of grazing sheep, it got pretty wooffy up there.

The remaining walk to the summit was easy going, if cold. We passed a few little cairns and improvised shelters on the way, and as I stopped to take photographs I fell behind.

By the time I approached the final rise I’d completely lost sight of Susan and our two Beagles. I took out the camera and zoomed in on what appeared to be another adhoc shelter, and suddenly a Beagle head popped up into view. After a second it disappeared, to be replaced by another Beagle head at a different point along the “wall”. This second Beagle bonce also disappeared and I had to wait through several more iterations of Whac-A-Beagle before I saw them both together.

Susan was sensibly huddled inside the windbreak, but Beanie & Biggles’ insatiable curiosity compelled them to keep trying to venture up and over the stones.

To give you an idea of just how windy it was up there, take a look at Biggles’ mouth-malfunction. It reminds me of Space 1999, where they represented intense gravity by blowing a strong hairdryer in the actors’ faces.

The summit..

And one of the views from it

Needless to say we soon headed back down, but this time I took charge of our two intrepid adventurers. All those scree paths that had been so easy on the way up became treacherous slides on the way down with Beanie & Biggles doing their best to pull me over, and I started to feel that maybe Skiddaw was an appropriate name for this mountain after all.

A brief moment of calm before the frenzied pulling begins again!

The next day the weather gave us rain, and lots of it. We filled the morning by visiting Aira Force, which had clearly benefited from all the extra water that was now feeding it.

I like posing for photos but make sure you’re holding me tight, Mum!

We retreated to the caravan and hoped the rain would die down..

Just so we’re clear, I’m not going out in that rain again, OK?

Just as we reached the decision to brave the downpour once more, it abruptly ended, and we spent a very pleasant late afternoon in Whinlatter Forest.

Apparently our Beagles quite like swings!

Next day, we managed a quick trip to Castlerigg stone circle. I was half expecting Biggles to cock his leg against the stones, but he and Beanie were oblivious to them, preferring instead to roll in the plentiful sheep poo on the site. I got a few shots of the stones as a grey clouds made empty threats of more rain, and then exposed a little more of our “Mighty Oak” car air freshener (to combat the twin Beagle air defresheners) before we headed back home.