Last year was dominated by islands. Of the 101 Marilyns completed, 43 were on 15 different islands and 12 were in the far north. The days of bagging eight in a day are over and unclimbed Marilyns are ever more remote.
I managed a couple of early forays north in January and February and had a delightful walk up through mist, silent forest and thick snow on Meikle Bin. I was actually passed by some keen downhill skiers. On the way south I encountered more thick snow on a glorious morning on Craigenreoch, with great views over to Ailsa Craig and Arran.
After a very wet trip to Skye in early May I was recompensed by good weather on Barra later in the month. I enjoyed the amazing experience of being taken through the natural arch on the west coast of Mingulay by expert boatman Donald McLeod. The day got even better as we witnessed eagles within 50 metres of us on Berneray and Mingulay and then within ten metres on Sandray. I don't know who got the bigger shock as the huge bird rose from beneath the crags, with me standing a few feet away on the summit, observing the stunning views of the chain of little islands. Days just don't get any better than this.
Two weeks in the far north were enjoyable due to the excellent warm weather while the rest of Britain was awash, the lack of midges, and the delightful hospitality at the Crask Inn, an excellent centre for Marilyn baggers. It's a bit like stepping back in time, with no TV, a temperamental generator, and some of the tastiest cooking I've experienced in years, not to mention the warm welcome given by Mike and Kai.
I climbed the new Welsh Marilyn in October en route to Arran in David Jackson's camper van with our good friend David Casson, whom we call 'Angela' to avoid confusion, although he seems a bit confused by it all. We got the idea from Johnny Cash and 'A boy named Sue'. Completing the Arran Marilyns was a delight. David's sister and brother-in-law live in a mansion at the south end of Arran, so plush showers and superb dinners indoors rather spoiled us, although we pretended to rough it by sleeping in his camper van. Sail Chalmadale was straight-forward despite thick mist, but care had to be taken with the compass as we approached the south-east flanks of Beinn Bharrain. As we approached the ridge, the mist lifted and we were rewarded once again with fabulous views over to Kintyre and Jura.
I finished the year early with a week avoiding stalkers on Mull. Great weather yet again, but they take their shooting very seriously on the island. The tourist information office in Tobermory has a leaflet showing estate boundaries on Mull with contact numbers. I telephoned four estates and their reaction to being contacted by a hillwalker was one of surprise, which then turned to gratitude for my courtesy, and to 100% co-operation, with all four suggesting the best day and routes. What is more, I felt totally at ease as I had no fear of being mistakenly shot or causing upset to an irate gamekeeper. The low point of the trip was returning to my bike on Gometra to find a flat tyre beyond repair and a 10km push back along the length of Ulva, once again keeping Barbara waiting. At least she had the sanctuary of the delightful little cafe in which to wait, and I did make it back in time for the last ferry.
