Every time we have an adventure in the Beaglemobile we get just a little better at making best use of its limited living space. It requires a very different approach from past trips in the caravan where we’ve taken not just the kitchen sink but everything in the cupboard underneath it as well, yet still had enough space to swing a sixteen-squeakered monkey toy by its tail. We’ve now got a pretty good system for food, water and clothing (both clean and muddied), but the  sleeping arrangements are still proving to be a bit of a challenge.

On a recent trip to the Mull of Galloway Susan figured she’d found the perfect solution: get rid of me! She suggested making up the bed just before I went out for a nighttime shoot of the lighthouse. I was naturally resistant to the idea because I knew that with me out of the way, she and our two pups could stretch out to fill most of the bed, leaving me with a little more than a postage-stamp to sleep on when I returned. Needless to say I was soundly outvoted in the “Bed Now!” poll by two paws and one hand to one, and went outside into the cold clear night while the rest of the party snuggled under the covers.

On my return things worked out much better than expected; in fact it turned out that being last to bed actually gave me an advantage, because it allowed me to become a human version of The Bigglet. Ordinarily he’s the last one in and his insertion method is ruthlessly efficient, gaining a much bigger share of the bed than a little furry person called Biggles should really have. He trots up along the side that is next to all the fittings (cupboard doors and such), gets his back firmly against solid wood and uses both his paws and his noxious little white bum to force the rest of us into an ever smaller portion of the bed.

Now it was my turn. Compelled by the desperate need to sleep and armed with a gut full of gas from hurriedly consuming a bag of dry roasted peanuts during my photography session, I applied the Biggles bed entry technique almost flawlessly. I say almost flawlessly, because although I got space, I didn’t get enough blanket to cover my feet. However, as I put the squeeze on the other bed occupants, Beanie kind of popped out and ended up nestling by my toes, keeping them toasty warm.

I only got to enjoy the bed for a few hours however; all too soon my alarm told me it was time to go back out for a bit of sunrise photography. As I left the van Susan taunted me with the thought that while I was out there shivering, she’d get to enjoy all that extra free space in the bed.

I stayed out taking photos longer than intended, and yet when I arrived back at the van everyone was still snuggled under the covers. It turned out that things hadn’t quite gone to plan for Susan however. She’d expected Biggles to stay in his part of the bed, leaving her ample room to stretch out. It didn’t work that way; Biggles may like having his own space, but that space still has to be next to another living body. No matter where she moved in the bed Biggles homed in on her, making otherwise spacious sleeping arrangements seem cramped.

Comfortable or not, it still took some considerable coaxing to get all the stop-in-beds up and ready for a sniffy, stimulating walk in the bright morning sunshine.

Breakfast was served on our return to the van, and somehow the eating arrangements became almost as cramped as those for sleeping. It’s funny how a little girl’s bowl can migrate towards her brother’s when he seems to have a bit more in his.

We sat and relaxed for a while as other visitors began to arrive at the lighthouse, and though Biggles kept a close watch on each every one of them, there was surprisingly little woofage. Is his lordship finally becoming more tolerant of other people and dogs? It’s going to take more than one well-behaved outing to convince me.

I don’t know if it’s a result all the attention he got during his recent bout of acid reflux, or some strange side effect of the extra tasty wet/dry food combo that our pups are getting now, but Mr. Biggles has become quite the exhibitionist.  Of course he’s never been shy about displaying his wares in the privacy of our home; if Susan or I sit down next to him with a snack, it’s pretty much a given that he’ll roll onto his back and spread his legs. If we don’t immediately interrupt our meal to acknowledge the visual feast that is his Biggleship’s nethers then he’ll more than likely give us a quick kick with his rear legs as if to say “Hey, check it out! It’s all furry, and it can be yours if I can have a mouthful of whatever’s on your plate.”

Recently however he’s started flaunting his bits outside and in view of complete strangers, and I fear it’s only a matter of time before he gets one of us arrested.  Just the other day he literally brought traffic to a halt with his display. He was on a short local walk with Susan and Beanie when he came upon a bit of farm silage ground into the road. Nature took its course and he fell into a roll. I say “fell” advisedly because he doesn’t lower his shoulder and rotate smoothly into the roll like other doggies; he just stops abruptly and drops straight onto his back with a thud as though he’s been KO’d by an invisible falling brick.

Anyway, there he was in the middle of the road “getting his roll on”, when suddenly a car approached. Susan did her best to tug him back onto his feet, but Biggles wasn’t having it. Instead his innocent roll turned into an X-rated erotic display. Still on his back, he rotated his lower body towards the car and, legs akimbo, began showing his bits for all he was worth. Susan likened it to that scene in the Austin Powers movie when Fat Bastard is in bed with Heather Graham. “Ahhmm dead sexy! Look at ma sexy body!” Apparently if Biggles had thumbs, he’d have been twiddling his nipples at the driver. All six of ’em. Only when he was sure the driver had got a proper eyeful was Biggles prepared to get up and trot back to the pavement.

Anyway, in an effort to lift this post out of the gutter, here are some shots of last week’s walk on Ben Ime, one of the so-called “Arrochar Alps”.

Despite numerous visits to the Arrochar region we’d never been to the top of Ben Ime, and sadly we still haven’t, but we got high enough to enjoy some decent views of the neighboring mountains.

Biggles didn’t have the opportunity to show his rude bits to other walkers, but he certainly made sure they could hear him

Breakfast and snacks for everyone on our return to the Beaglemobile

The Lomond/Trossachs region is famed for its mountain ranges and picturesque lochs, yet despite many visits we’d only seen those lochs from a few thousand feet up while hillwalking. With the Beaglemobile no longer leaking gas like Biggles’ bum and the weather forecasts promising clear skies, we felt the time was right to view one of them from close up. But which one? An extended Googling session pointed to Loch Ard as a good candidate; it was certainly pretty enough, appeared to have a good parking spot for an overnight stay in our campervan, and a number of way-marked walks. It was only after our arrival that we discovered something our research had failed to uncover: Loch Ard is patrolled day and night by two burly swans who don’t take kindly to Beagles.

The thing is, Beanie and Biggles usually get on famously with birds. Certainly they get on very well indeed with the chicken I carry in my pocket on beach runs, but unfortunately swans differ from chicken in several important ways:

• they’re bigger
• they aren’t wrapped in aluminum foil to keep in the juices and flavor
• they hiss when they get close
• did I mention that they’re bigger?

It goes without saying that neither Beanie nor Biggles were the least bit afraid of the swans; they are after all experienced apex predators with a long list of kills to their names (only the other day Biggles inflicted a fatal wound to one of Susan’s gym socks). However, they are also the joint owners of two pet humans, and as such they have to be mindful of how we might react to potential scares. Consequently when they sensed growing discomfort from us as the swans grew close and hissed, Beanie and Biggles gently but firmly led us away from the approaching menace. Biggles even realised that in my alarmed state I might not cope well with loud noises, and decided against woofing at the swans. Only the most capable and self-assured Beagle could have suppressed his hunting instincts  and embraced his sensitive and empathetic side like that, and I counted myself very lucky to have his Biggleship (some distance) behind me on our first tentative walk by the loch.

In due course we returned to the Beaglemobile to settle in for the evening. We human types might still be finding our way round the van, but already our pups know it inside out. Biggles has sussed where all the food is stored and loves pottering about on the worktop, no matter how many times we tell him to get down. Beanie has lost her fear of the reversing beep, and has established that the swiveling passenger seat provides the best vantage point in the vehicle, especially if there’s a human already on the seat with an accommodating lap (what’s more, while she’s having a nosy out of the window she tends not mind being cuddled).  The biggest thing we have yet to sort out however is the sleeping arrangements.

In summer it’ll be possible to pop-up the roof and have the pups sleep up there in their crates. In winter temperatures however there’s really no choice but to keep the roof down for better insulation and let Beanie and Biggles sleep with us in the bed. This makes for very cramped sleeping conditions, but during our night by Loch Ard it was surprisingly welcome; the temperature went sub-zero once darkness fell, but we didn’t feel it thanks to our two fur-covered hot water bottles. Of course things got difficult when they started doing their in-bed T’ai Chi routine (“pushing paws” rather than “pushing hands”) but still, at least we never got cold.

The next morning we all stopped off at a little jetty near the start of the loch in time for sunrise. We certainly did get nipped at by the cold here – not to mention almost nibbled by the swans – but nevertheless it was well worth seeing, especially when a thin layer of mist developed over the water.

Once my fingers had gone numb and I could no longer operate the camera (it didn’t take long), we set out on an extended walk round along one side of the loch. Unfortunately the weather didn’t live up to the promise of the forecasts, but the walk nevertheless produced two satisfied little sniffers, and Beanie indicated her approval with one of her signature dance routines.

On our return to the van I discovered two important things:

1. Beanie can “spider-Beagle” her way right underneath the van even when on her fixed length walking lead; I got quite a shock when I came up from fixing Biggles’ harness and found that I was temporarily missing a Beagle.
2. Two muddy Beagles can make a heck of a mess in a campervan in a matter of seconds.

Where normal dog owners might fix that last issue by thoroughly toweling off their dogs before allowing entry, we’re working – or more accurately Susan is working – on a different solution that involves leopard-skin patterned Beagle onesies. To be fair, this could be a pretty good option especially for Biggles, as his tummy has the most remarkable ability to soak up vast quantities of mud. It’ll certainly look cute, so stay tuned for the photos :)