When I moved to Scotland, the idea of Munro bagging was pretty alien to me. Where I come from, if you want to hike, you just go hike. You are there for the experience, not to tick a box or earn an achievement award. The trek is reward enough. So rather than feverishly powering through a checklist, we focus on the routes and places that resonate with us most. People spread out, mountains are quieter, wilder and not objectified as something to be collected and conquered. There’s no pressure to climb only hills above a certain height and subsequently miss out on more petite topography, forest trails and beaches.
After walking my first Munro following my move to the Highlands in 2018, I decided I would not be taking part in this bagging phenomenon. It wasn't that I was opposed to hiking the odd Munro, but more I didn't feel the need to turn natural wonders into a to-do list.
But then, fast-forward to early 2020 and the start of lockdown and a switch flipped in me. Being the contradictory human I am, suddenly ticking off all the Munros became a hyper-focus project of sorts. It's easy to see, in hindsight, this was a coping mechanism for escaping the very real stresses I faced after being made redundant and watching everything I had meticulously saved for a home being swallowed up by basic living expenses as I struggled to generate some sort of income; all while trying to simultaneously home-school my unique needs child solo with no reprieve or support.
It became an obsession. It gave me something to focus on when life very much lacked clear direction. The world wasn't a mess when I was on top of a mountain. The peaks were bigger and more permanent than any of my problems. Some people turned to alcohol, I turned to the hills. Instead of getting down, I got as high as I could.
This fervour propelled me up over 80 of the 282 peaks in 2020 alone, at a time when guidance was against hiking and I was placed on a whipping post for having the audacity to publicly question government advice. But, to me, the mountain paths held hope for a better future somehow. I just couldn't see logic in the arguments against hiking, or make myself care enough about the daily harassment, abuse and even death threats, run-ins with law enforcement, the close shaves with the media (including a potential Daily Mail piece on my Munro-bagging as a foreigner) and being kicked out of a volunteer role with a notable organisation that I valued highly, to stop and stay indoors. I just kept walking, and walking. I had to.
Reflecting on this period now, when the world is open again and lockdowns begin to feel like a distant memory, I find myself somewhat baffled by this version of me and echoing more with the woman who arrived here in 2018 and found the idea of Munro-bagging unnecessary. Not because I regret any of it, I certainly do not. I still do not believe the outdoors should have ever been off limits and thanks to this crusade I managed to maintain my mental and physical health under immense pressure, strengthen my bond with my daughter and learn a lot about myself and what really matters in the process. I just don't know if it's the right angle to approach nature from though.
It's hard to ignore to the myriad of environmental and societal issues that stem from the over-populisation of natural landscapes, none of which I am remotely qualified or morally positioned to lecture anyone on. However, the thought of all the fuel I burn reaching some of these peaks, my boots etching their marks into the hillside and the pressure on the ecosystem my presence presents (particularly in tandem with the high numbers of other humans traversing these paths), sits less comfortably with me these days.
Though, I also realise that Munro-bagging provides people with a goal that is both highly strenuous and exceptionally rewarding. We conquer ourselves, our fears, our doubts and push our limits when we set big, challenging goals for ourselves. Attempting to summit 282 peaks is certainly a challenge. Some of the people we meet on the way become integral parts of our social networks later. We find much-needed reprieve from the stress of daily life and discover new places we'd have never visited had it not been the starting point for our trek. Then there's the satisfaction of ticking something off a checklist that, despite my best efforts, I do love as much as the next human ..and that's just scratching the surface of the myriad of benefits time in the mountains brings us all.
So here I stand, at the summit of my 116th Munro, 40% complete and 100% conflicted as to whether I will continue pursuing this once all-consuming mission of mine. If I decide not to, that’s okay, I'm not a tree, I can (and do) move. I don’t need a participation award to feel I’ve accomplished something. This day alone was a gift in and of itself.