Marian and I became General Managers in the Lake District within a couple of months of each other back in 2014. We shared a dislike of the day long meetings we had to attend, and both tried to shoehorn as much nature as we could into the discussions, or promote opportunities to get outside. She was such an environmental firebrand and acted as a voice and conscience for the whole organisation, and I will really miss her. We got on best when we spent time together on long walks, and some of my favourite ever days at work were spent with her, walking the mountain passes and summits where our patches of North Lakes and West Lakes met. I remember Borrowdale into Ennerdale via windy gap, Great Gable (which Marian is technically in North Lakes even though you say it isn’t!), Eskdale into Wasdale, Ennerdale into Wasdale via Mosedale, and probably my favourite was a beautiful autumn day walk in the Duddon valley, all along the river near Seathwaite. We would have wonderful conversations sat being a part of the scenery: about why there weren’t more birds on the fells, the souls of animals, spirit guides, test match cricket (never limited overs), Earth Education, the great Ealingcomedies like the Titfield Thunderbolt, Ladykillers, or Whisky Galore; the Mighty Boosh, or the books of John Buchan or Terry Pratchett, the latter descibed to me famously by Marian as “about the real world, not fantasy”. She had a wonderful and twinkly sense of humour, coming out at unexpected times.

The one area where we did not really seem to have much in common was music; so important to both of us, just no common reference points at all! We would lend each other music in desperate attempts to try and get the other on our wavelength, but to no avail. She once gave my CDs back to me with strategically placed post its on them “Warning: these CDs contain Jazz” (clearly a cardinal sin!). Though we did eventually agree on Keith Jarrett’s Koln concert, even though Marian swore it was classical and i swore it was jazz. And from her bed in Eden Hospice the final message i received from her was about LvB...she sent me Rage for a lost penny, with a passionate explanation. I will never be able to listen to it again without smiling, and thinking of her. 

so Marian: just like the Fell and Rock climbing club raised the money to gift Great Gable to the national trust on behalf of the nation, i officially acknowledge that the National Trust is wrong, and that you were right. That mountain deserves to be yours, part of Marian Silvester’s West Lakes forever, its majestic west shoulder burning gold and crimson in the setting sun like it has a fire within. Even then, not a fire as strong as the one that burned so brightly inside of you.

Tom x

The one area