The only problem with reaching 600 Marilyns is that your wife suddenly stops doing all the counting and sending in your updates. She's still ticking for both of us thank God - the number of different books and pencils is too confusing. Glad I did not succumb to Jonathan Woods' siren calls of using a computer database.
Best days for 2002? Whisky on Great Gable on number 600, whisky during the World Cup final on Harris (you didn't know the World Cup was played on Harris?) and whisky on Dumyat with Mr Woodall and an RHB gang. There seems to be a theme here...
Best day of all started with an on/off trip (eventually on) to the Shiants with a force 4/5 breeze, which was followed by an evening ascent of Oreval on Harris in beautiful sunshine, with a view of St Kilda.
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.
I didn't really become interested in Marilyns until I was nearing completion of the Nuttalls and, like many others no doubt, wondering what to do next. Maybe a second round of 2000ers? A change of job and relocation from Cheshire to Oxfordshire settled it. To quote RHB:
'The listing of some hills in Southern England gives walkers unfortunate enough to live in that part of the country some constructive walking to do when they're not away in the northern hills.'
I would soon be in serious need of some constructive walking, especially since I already knew the Brecon Beacons, my nearest source of decent hills, pretty well.
It was natural to start with regions 39-41, though serious progress had to wait until after foot-and-mouth disease. Not many hills in the south-east could be described as exciting, but the majority can be turned into a worthwhile walk. Best were Win Green, a good ridge walk on Cranbourne Chase; Milk Hill, climbed in ignorance of its demotion but a fine hill (the summit excepted), on a chalk escarpment; Swyre Head in the Isle of Purbeck, which made a good circuit with the South West Coast path; and a dusk ascent of Cliffe Hill where I had the summit to myself, with the lights of Lewes on one side and Glyndebourne on the other.
Brown Willy gets my vote for the best hill in the south. Bodmin Moor is full of interest and there are some good little scrambles on Rough Tor. I did a six-hour circuit anti-clockwise from Churchtown and would recommend this route to anyone keen to explore the moor. Explorer 109 was useful for finding the many antiquities. The other west-country hills had less to offer, though Watch Croft was pretty, while Carnmenellis was positively nasty.
With southern England nearing completion, I turned my attention to mid-Wales and Shropshire in the spring of 2002. The highlight was a through walk from Crymych to Newport over Foel Cwmcerwyn and Mynydd Carningli in the Preseli hills. Mynydd Carningli deserves an entry in the 'Wee Gem' category. I bagged most of the summits in the mining country during a couple of weekends based at Cardiff youth hostel. I reckon the risk of car parking has been exaggerated, though it's true you see a fair number of burnt-out shells.
In between these local-ish forays I managed to notch up 25 Corbetts and a handful of Grahams. As my 600th Marilyn approached, a hint of mania crept in. I remember boarding a 2am ferry to the Isle of Man with a deep depression approaching from the west, in the company of four other lunatics, desperately rushing to get round the five Marilyns before the weather became seriously awful, and then the impossibility of finding a decent pub in Douglas while we waited for the return boat.
In keeping with the bizarre end to the year, my 598th was a night-time assault on Mynydd Eppynt in mist and rain, and my 599th the Tolkienesque sounding Hafod Ithel. Six weeks of inactivity and comparative sanity then followed before I celebrated on 11 January, appropriately on Crock.
What next? The Corbetts will keep me occupied for another few years, and I still have some Marilyns in England and Wales to do. But I also want to return to parts of Wales. I don't think my sequence of bags did justice to the country south of the Brecon Beacons. I reckon a back-pack from east to west, in and out of the mining valleys, would give a better appreciation of the area.
The Elan Valley, and the whole region around Rhayader, deserves a more leisurely exploration too. Discovering new places to which one wants to return is surely an excellent justification for climbing Marilyns, if any is needed.
Chris Crocker's 600th, Crock, 11 January 2003
Alan Dawson, Paul Richardson, Chris Crocker, Jo Innes
(photo: Chris Crocker)
I managed The Buck as my 600th in dismal weather by myself, having run up Tap o'Noth beforehand in the same conditions. 2002 was my third year of over 115 Marilyns - perhaps obsessive but nothing compared to some.
I also managed 51 bothy overnights, bringing my lifetime total to 419 so far. A few Marilyns and a bothy night fair makes a good weekend (for me anyway). The only down side is that it sometimes takes a bit of driving back and forth to connect the bothy with the bagging. I'm enjoying it though, which is what this game's all about.
Realising that my family had abandoned me for the in-laws and I had a more-or-less free day ahead, I decided to go for it - my 600th Marilyn. Not so easy, since I don't have a car and don't drive, but a bus to Dundee, and another along the Perth road, got me to within striking distance of King's Seat. I reached the top at 1pm, just before the rain set in for the afternoon for the walk back to Dundee.
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