I first heard of Marilyns in 1999 and began to climb them seriously in 2003, around the time of the birth of the first of my children (now aged 5 and 3). I was living in Wiltshire at the time and needed a new focus to continue some form of mountaineering as a dad. My total then was 300 or so - the usual suspects gathered over the years. Marilyns were the ideal way of getting out with (and without) the family. And now, having passed the magic 600 last year, I find that I can't stop. Even though I'm now based back in my native Cumbria, days are spent in dark forests in strange parts of Scotland.
My 600th took place, rather satisfyingly, on one of my final Cumbrian hills, Wild Boar Fell, following a traverse from Sedbergh over Baugh Fell. I was alone on a sunny, clear, mid-week spring day. Superb. However, I couldn't really find anyone to enthuse with until I met up with some other Hall of Fame members in Portree the following week. Another good moment, later in the summer, was finishing the Cumbrian Marilyns on Great Knoutberry Hill - a mad dash between trains.
Good days have spanned the country from the mid-Wales Arans to Ben Hutig in the far north. A particular highlight was the Benvane and Ben Ledi traverse in that marvellous cold snap just before Christmas. The best family day: Holy Island, Arran. The best non-UK Marilyn: Galdhøpiggen, Norway.
Benvane from Beinn an t-Sidhein (photo: Alan Dawson)
