2014 was a bumper year for Val and me. The biggest bag yet, all in Scotland and 52 of them in the Highlands. All these hills were under 600m, which is all we have left in Scotland, and so it could be argued that this total is not that much of a feat. Well, it feels like it to us and we are pretty damn smug about it.
For both of us the high spot of the year was our kilo bag (1000th Marilyn) on Eildon Mid Hill on 1 October. We also stayed in a decent hotel rather than the usual tent as part of our kilo celebrations. When we think of the thigh-high heather, the head-high bracken and the bogs in the year, we sometimes think killer bag rather than kilo would better fit the bill.
Low spots included, at the end of a longish day, finding the three-metre high security gates preventing the crossing of Loch Achonachie dam to get easy access to Torr Achilty. These gates and associated fencing are here to stay by the look of them. Another low spot was the nonsense I made of getting to Eilean Shona for Beinn a'Bhaillidh, but we do not talk about it in polite company.
Eilean Shona (left), Eigg and Rum (photo: Alan Dawson)
The mad spot was our climb of the mighty Meigle Hill. When walking through the farmyard to get access to the hill track, the farmer asked whether we were 'doing a wee Marilyn?' On answering in the affirmative, he wanted to know if we wished to drive up. His response to our outrage at this preposterous suggestion was that many did. Can this be true? Are baggers driving up them now? Should I buy an ATV?
The unusual spot was meeting a man and woman who had just climbed the mighty eminence of Bidein Clann Raonaild which Val and I were about to start on. We met the couple again at Applecross campsite where we confessed to each other our Marilyn addiction. Such is this couple's addiction (we have forgotten, unforgivably, their names) that they have moved house to highland Scotland for more regular Marilyn fixes. Look out for a married couple storming up the ratings.
Overall, it was a year of wall-to-wall pleasure in good weather, with our walking taking us from Tarbert (Loch Fyne) to Ullapool and beyond. Perhaps the most ludicrous consequence of this was rushing back to Tyneside every ten days or so to make sure the allotment was ok. No-one minds your plants like you do yourself. The tanker-load of diesel I used made the petroleum companies very happy, which is one of my main objectives in life - apart from Marilyn bagging, of course.
