In order to confirm the worst suspicions of the critics of bagging, I will start by saying that I reached my target of 100 new Marilyns in 2003, and indeed beat this target by the huge margin of two. This was helped by the Ludlow weekend, a real glut by my standards - 25 in 75 hours - almost all being thoroughly enjoyable. The biggest exception was the flat, wooded and brambly 'summit' of Burton Hill, which almost justified the hand-written sign nearby, 'you might as well just go home'. But to those who make scathing comments about bagging, I can reply that Marilyn bagging has expanded my horizons, not reduced them. Is it really a sign of great discernment when someone joins a queue on Helvellyn for the 11th time, when they could be enjoying a beautiful and peaceful morning on Grayrigg Forest? And anyway, most baggers aren't just baggers; I spent a pleasant day on and around Shutlingsloe when I could have been increasing my tally, and there was a repeat visit to Great How above Eskdale, which isn't in any list I've ever seen. Of the 102, perhaps the best was Sgurr a'Mhaim in the Mamores, in the late afternoon sun in March, and close on its heels the wonderful high ridge of Druim Fiaclach, with the most comfortable of summits (a dry mossy seat), on the way to Sgurr na Ba Glaise. From Rois-Bheinn, being in the company of non-baggers, An Stac was avoided and we descended by a route which Richard Webb might remember; I wish I'd read the description on his website beforehand.
Druim Fiaclach
Some of the duller hills were spiced up a little by their GOML reputations, but I had no major encounters, though returning from Mynydd Rhyd-ddu after dark I did make every effort to sneak past the two dogs tied to kennels before they got scent of me. It would have been a shame to worry the people in the house, and besides, I wasn't sure how long the dog leads were. There were some entertaining GOML signs on the way to Blake Fell, and some surprisingly subtle ones below Brown Willy, implying dire consequences if one stepped off the path. I would have thought that an adder is more likely to be encountered on a path, basking in the sun, than in the shadows of the rougher ground, and are the bogs of Bodmin Moor really fearsome and dangerous, capable of swallowing innocent tourists whole? As for the fragile ecology, it seems to cope with grazing ponies and their hooves.
I finished the year on 222, double Nelson, and I am glad I don't share umpire Shepherd's superstitions; new year in the Ponds would have been difficult on one foot. This year it is going to be harder to maintain progress, what with family commitments and a dearth of new Marilyns within really easy reach. It may be necessary to resort to more sneaky detours 'on the way' to other destinations. No fewer than 26 of 2003's bag were visited in this way, including five south of London on the way from Leeds to Essex (a bit Chestertonian, though not 'by way of Beachy Head'), and another five associated with the AGM of the Mountain Bothies Association. Come to think, I have a lawnmower to pick up from Dorset, and a nephew at Heriot-Watt University...
