Following a relatively slow start, a concerted effort after the end of the cricket season saw me past the 600 mark shortly before Christmas. A long April weekend based in Ullapool finally enabled me to sample the pleasures of Ben Mor Coigach and Sgurr an Fhidhleir, with the aid of a hired bike, although the backside didn't find it quite so enjoyable. A couple of weeks later saw the attainment of a couple of long-held goals with a wonderfully clear ascent of Foinaven via the A'Ch'eir Ghorm ridge and an almost dry ramble along the Kinlochbervie-Cape Wrath coastal walk, which included a yomp up Sgribhis-bheinn on the way back.
Whitsun in Glen Coe concentrated on reducing outstanding Munro Tops to below 50, although it also included a memorable trip across the Corran ferry to climb Sgorr Mhic Eacharna and Beinn Bheag, which started well but ended up in the car park with rain and midges for over two hours, awaiting the return of my driver who'd spent the day getting (or not getting) to grips with the Great Ridge of Garbh Bheinn.
A mid-summer Old Croydon MC reunion meet in north Wales ended in absolute disaster. After discovering that the Bardsey Island ferry doesn't take day trippers on Saturdays, I spent an increasingly sunny day bimbling around the coast and up the SubMarilyn Mynydd Anelog. Returning to my motor-bike, I encountered a blocked-off gate on a right-of-way and tried negotiating a nearby earth bank with a barbed-wire strand along it. A lapse of concentration on the problem at hand ended with an awkward backward fall that dislocated an elbow. Three buses got me to Bangor Hospital A&E department where I waited until after midnight to be seen (eight hours after the accident).
October brought a welcome return to form to polish off the Yorkshire Marilyns; Urra Moor and Cringle Moor on an in-and-out day followed by a real cracker on Lovely Seat and Kisdon. The following afternoon I was stranded in York with no trains running south due to severe storm damage. In November a long weekend based in Llangollen produced a good haul of new hills, including a stray-dog escort over Dduallt and Rhobell Fawr (30D). Remaining weekends cleared up most English Marilyns outside Herefordshire and Northumberland. I would echo the general condemnation of the summit area of Dundry Down - a real mess. At least I got to see my first Father Christmas of the year afterwards.
My annual December pilgrimage to the Hebrides brought more cracking weather and cooler conditions for a change. The trip reached its crescendo at the top of Chaipaval, the toe of Harris, where I claimed Marilyn 600 while Hirta and Boreray flirted in and out of view on the horizon. The afternoon ferry across the Sound of Harris, with the sun setting behind the Uist hills, proved as sublime as ever, and I have to rate it as the best 60-minute journey in Britain.
