In Defence of Marylin Bagging - Breac-Bheinn

'There are no boring hills, just boring people' is a saying I love trotting out when my more Munro-obsessed friends and acquaintances mock me during the obligatory 'How many Munros did you bag?' questions on Monday mornings. This is in response to the withering looks I get when I admit to having run up esoteric delights such as the Hill of the Whangie. Often the views from the 'connoisseurs' hill are just as, if not more, spectacular and interesting than those enjoyed by their bigger neighbours. Breac-Bheinn at in Strathcarron is one such hill.

Strathcarron is probably one of the most unfortunate glens in Scotland, being owned by some of the most dubious characters that have ever had pretensions to be lairds. Those responsible for the brutal clearances, poignantly remembered in the etched graffiti in Croick Church, have been followed by numerous other unfriendly absentee owners of which the latest incarnation is Mr Lister. His 'Wilderness' was once the home of hundreds of people and his plans to exclude access, with a 30 mile 3m high electric fence, goes against centuries of access rights. The development of a Safari park is not a 're-wilding' and surely if Mr Lister was so concerned about returning the Highlands to a previous state, he would encourage people to move back into 'his' reserve. Thousands of years of human interference and interaction make the idea of creating a true Wilderness in the Highlands idiotic. The constant flux in the environment was brought home to me on another recent hill run I came across an area of deeply eroded peat. Exposed stumps and trunks of ancient trees a testament to the changing climatic conditions.

Breac-Bheinn is a suitable distance away from the Alladale Estate and the steady plod up heather made the views from the flat summit even more surprising. The views north and west were breathtaking. The Inselberge of the North-West coast rose prominently in the distance, made even more stark by the miles of conifer-planted wide strath that stretched out far to the horizon.

Admittedly the second hill of the day, Meall Dheirgidh, wasn't blessed with such views, but the short 2h jog was still comparable to any number of 'proper' hill days.

Another advantage of the lower hills is the lack of paths, cairns and, although it is elitist to say it, lack of people. All this makes the Marylin day much more of an adventure and a challenge. Of all the days out this year on the smaller hills I can count the number of other walkers or runners on both hands.

Worryingly those who I have met on these hills have more of the train-spotter about them than your 'normal' hill-goer. Sometimes, I suppose, the truth hurts and I can take solace in is the fact that with only two trains lines, Inverness Station has so little to tick that I can't think that I am in danger of changing sport, yet...