The walker and the writer, they are typically two different things, but in the case of researching written works of long walks, one must take into account characteristics that make up both walkers and writers in order to effectively examine their respective motivations and desires. Sometimes writers become walkers, or find themselves on long walks, such as eighteenth-century writer, Samuel Johnson, and to a some extent, the contemporary writer, Bill Bryson. Other times long walkers find themselves writing, like Jennifer Pharr Davis and myself. But it seems that in most cases the walker and the writer fall somewhere in between, and even these outliers may not be outliers at all; both walking and writing require an adventurous spirit and a purpose greater than simple hedonistic satisfaction. Walkers and writers walk and write so that they may learn something new and further connect to the world they explore, as they are indeed explorers. We, I dare say, are always searching for something behind the bend and over the hill. Perhaps it is the next observation, another fascinating fact, an invigorating experience, a piece of history that roots us in eternity, or a wonderful conversation with a character we can never forget. These little explorations help us understand the world in its totality and allow us to appreciate life a little better.
In 2013, I traversed 2,186 miles by foot from Georgia to Maine on the Historic Appalachian Trail for a period of six months and ten days. I had never traveled through this land; thick forests, old farmlands, rural towns, and small cities. Walking is an extremely intimate form of travel that forced me to slow down and inquire to the nature and origin of all of my surroundings; the land, the people, and the history that flowed into each step I took. I noticed many small details about my surroundings and I found myself pondering as I walked and discussing my observations with other travelers. On occasion I would converse with locals and listen to stories about the area and its people, learning more about the nature and history of a different life than mine.
Since thru-hiking the Appalachian Trail, I have reflected on my experience briefly through writing. Most of my creative enterprising was done through the medium of an episodic web-series dubbed Hitched Hike. The series was produced by me as I filmed, edited and posted while hiking on a weekly basis, as long as I could find come electricity and internet. The extent of my writing was in response to reintegrating into American society and starting back into undergraduate studies after returning from military service and the hike. Since then, I have become more interested in creative writing pursuits after being admitted into the University of Texas at Austin’s creative writing program. From my previous interest in film and storytelling, I happily stepped foot into the world of short fiction writing. It didn’t take long before I began utilizing my newly developing skills as a creative writer and my documentary like passion for sharing my adventures to coalesce. The prospect of writing an account of my Appalachian Trail adventure is daunting and confusing to undertake due to major life changes since 2013, but I have since written other accounts and continue to grow in these skills.
From my long walk I have gained new insights and understandings as to why we walk and why we so desperately want to share these experiences with others. Personalities determine how one writes and how one approaches walking, but they all have similar quality of discovery, and more so, the appreciation of discovery.
In planning for my upcoming hike through the United Kingdom along the Pennine Way and the Scottish National Trail, I came across various readings from three walkers and writers: Samuel Johnson, Alfred Wainwright, and Cameron McNeish. Two Englishmen and one Scot. One writer and two walkers. They create a strange blending of experiences and intentions within writing and walking, and inspire a sense of longing to my out on one’s feet tramping about.
Cameron McNeish, author of Scotland End to End, television producer, magazine editor, and “one of the UK’s most respected mountain commentators” (back cover), conceived the idea for the Scottish National Trail the stretches from Kirk Yetholm to Cape Wrath. McNeish writes as a means to promote the trail, so that others may discover it. The book is a transmedia extension of a two-part BBC documentary production and covey’s his personal account of his long walk from “end to end.” He states, “First of all I believed passionately that Scotland should have a long-distance trail that ran the length of the country” (12). The book itself is shiny and full of glorious photographs. It is not written as a guide, but might as well be by the strict attention to bearings and distance, and how the book is organized into sections, each being introduced with legitimate guide information. Such as this section introduction of Edinburgh to Milngavie:
Start: Edinburgh (Water of Leith Conservation Trust Visitor Centre, Slateford, GR223708).
Finish: Milngavie.
Distance: 82km/51 miles approx.
Maps: This section is covered (in walking order) by Ordnance Survey 1:50,000 Landranger sheets 66,65, and 64 (McNeish, 63).
And it goes on with Public Transportation, Accommodation, and Route information, then gives more route and general information. McNeish also includes plenty of historical accounts of various points of interest along the trail but uses them as a means primarily to increase the appeal of traveling to such locations as it would seem that most Scots are likely already aware of what he is reporting. As he rests and resupplies, he gives us a quick historical account: “Across the road from the shop lies the monument of the Well of Seven Heads, commemorating a rather gruesome deed from the past.” He then recounts, or reads from the monument, the story of a murder and subsequent tribunal of removing the murders’ heads and washing them in the well (155). “Rather gruesome” is about as personal as McNeish gets in his writing and he maintains a certain distance throughout the book so that we may focus on the trail and Scotland, not him.
McNeish writes with Scottish, and outdoorsman pride bubbling out on every page. He writes with a constant flow of Scottish location names that only Scots familiar with the area would understand and he consistently writes in a manner to provoke fellow Scots to get out in their own backyard and be physically active. “I was passing through areas that I had associated with large and sprawling housing developments with all their associated social problems—Bonnybridge, Dennyloanhead, and Cumbernauld – but in reality I was walking along a very green rural lane,” he states, then follows with more outdoor activity to engage in and where: “I left the canal at Kilsyth, close to Auchinstarry Quarry where I used to go rock climbing, […] an excellent rock climbing area with a number of good routes. It lies between the village of Croy and Kilsyth” (80). He is an outdoor enthusiast first and writes with the foremost intention to inspire others to get outside and do something, especially if that means doing something in Scotland. Unfortunately his inability to lay these place names in concrete description so to generalize their characteristics makes most of the reading a pain to non-Scotsmen and difficult to visually explore Scotland through his words. But he cannot be condemned for his attempt, for he is simply trying to allow his secondary desire for walking the length of Scotland seep into the minds of other Scots.
[And] secondly, I wanted to walk through my own country of birth, simply to get to know it better, to weight up aspects of its character and culture, to remind myself of its history and factions, its nuances and its remarkable diversity of landscape, […] and re-discover the land of my birth for myself, especially those areas I wasn’t so familiar with (McNeish 12).
The Englishman Alfred Wainwright’s style in his own account Wainwright on the Pennine Way, makes for a jarring contrast to Scotland End to End. I was not aware of the existence of the Pennine Way until reading McNeish’s account and learning that the northern terminus of the Pennine Way was the southern terminus of the Scottish National Trail. I became curious of Wainwright in McNeish’s brief mention of his character in reference to staying at the Border Hotel in Kirk Yetholm, the joining of the two trails. He says, “It was here that curmudgeonly old Alfred Wainwright betrayed his reputation as a grumpy meanie. Sprawled in the bar after his own adventure on the Pennine Way, he decided to set up a long-standing tab for everyone who completes the full distance from Edale to Kirk Yetholm” (29). Wainwright is indeed a grump in his writing. He continuously complains about the dreariness and drudgery of walking through the wilderness so much so that it is difficult to surmise why he would be walking at all. It’s a peculiar style to depict unpleasantness with pleasant prose using descriptions like, “After a depressing mile, near more farm ruins, a better prospect is unfolded as the route trends west. Ahead, at last, is something to feast the eyes on: the hill called Goldsborough which, alone amongst these featureless uplands, has a distinctive outline and a cap of gritstone” (98). Wainwright on the Pennine Way is written as a guide, albeit a strange personal one. It is a narrative of sorts, as the reader is allowed in on this journey through the detailed observations.
Wainwright does not express his desire for writing, nor his purpose, much like he does not seem to enjoy himself while walking, but he does enjoy them both. He would not walk such long distances or write such lengthy accounts if he did not enjoy them. His desires and motivations lie then, not in the joy of inspiring others like McNeish, but in the aesthetics of both the process and the reflection his journeys. His writings contain numerous hand drawn depictions of landmarks and detailed maps of the terrain he passes through that signify a deeper appreciation for his journey than simply walking from one place to another. In order to effectively sketch these images and maps, Wainwright must have sat and focused on completing these tasks that he found pleasurable to complete in the first place. Wainwright pursues his journeys and writing for himself in order that he may experience a more fulfilling life. He states in his autobiography, Fellwanderer that he did not originally write with the intent to publish for the public. He drew these images and maps, and wrote his detailed accounts for his own pleasure.
Amongst the many aspects of long distant walking, he does not like the solitude. On coming along to a more popular section of the trail he states, “And, best of all for walkers of a timid or gregarious disposition, the awesome sense of loneliness and the feeling of being solitary in a hostile environment, evaporate. People will be met” (22). The single most categorical reason for Wainwright’s enjoyment of taking long walks: meeting people.
Samuel Johnson, in the moment of conception for writing about his travels through Scotland, he describes a sweet Romantic moment: “I had indeed no trees to whisper over my head, but a clear rivulet streamed at my feet. The day was calm, the air soft, and all was rudeness, silence, and solitude” (61). If Johnson had something better to do than sit by that stream waiting for the horses to feed then he may not have recollected his travels so keenly or possibly not have written about them at all, much like if Wainwright had not sat and painstakingly drawn out his observations.
In A Journey to the Western Islands of Scotland, Samuel Johnson’s main inquiry going into his journey to the Hebrides is to learn about the people and their behavior, lifestyle, and culture, and to dig into those origins and reasons. It is a different approach to discover that originates from his era more than a lack of interest. Scotland was more of a mystery then, and the best way to learn of a place is to go there. This is still the case, and the reason why these men travel and walk.
Johnson writes most of his observations in this realm, and comments extensively in his understanding and speculation of the people and their nature. Johnson makes detailed notes and analyses on such things as: religiosity, language, commerce, architecture, clothing, diet, health, manners, temperament, customs, traditions, living conditions, and even how they have designed their windows to slide up rather than open out. He seems most interested in the old war driven highland culture. He comments throughout his travels on the level of respect that is given, and flows down from, the clan chiefs, and to his almost incredulous surprise, the level of hospitality and kindness are offered up to him, an Englishman, throughout his entire travels. He comments on entering, out of curiosity, a small cottage in the highlands: “To enter a habitation without leave, seems to be not considered here as rudeness or intrusion. The old laws of hospitality still give this license to a stranger” (54). Again, later he comments while in Glenelg that “we had a very eminent proof of Highland hospitality” (66). Johnson may have quickly learned how pleasant the Scots are in their culture, when before his presuppositions had led him to believe otherwise, and from learning so hoped to enlighten his fellow Englishmen to the extent of the humanity of the Scots.
It also greatly interests him how the Scottish people lived their lives in such different conditions and without much of what Johnson would have considered to be common conveniences in London. While on his observations of the islands, he states, “Conveniences are not missed where they never were enjoyed” (107). Johnson understands that the Scots level of content is based on what they know, and implies that they are happy to exist simply, because that is all they know. Upon their departure from the Hebrides, he says that his goal of enlightening himself from nature and the people has been a success by stating that the Hebrides is “where we had amplified our thoughts with new scenes of nature, and new modes of life” (146).
This simple reflective observation is the main reason why I travel. It is the main reason I hiked the Appalachian Trail. I may not have known it at the time, and simply felt “called” to go beyond my comfort zone, but I learned a great deal about how to live and appreciate nature and what is around me in a way that causes me to seek out new experiences. I seemed more connected with Johnson’s writing more so than the others even as I prepare for my hike through McNeish’s and Wainwright’s respective trails and lands. Johnson is a masterful writer and only walks through Scotland because there is no other way to get to where they are going. The thing that strikes me most about Johnson is his curiosity of what surrounds him, and the history of the places he travels through.
As Johnson spends the majority of his effort on writing about his observations of nature and the people he is encountering, he is constantly attempting to tie historical elements together to better understand the reason behind the current state of Scotland and its people. “Everything in those countries has its history” (67), he says, commenting on the melody of a bagpiper in Sky. Johnson recognizes that history defines the lifestyles and circumstances he witnesses in each location as he travels. He pays close attention to the means in which history may have impacted his observations and takes great delight in inquiring about his speculations or analyzing stories he receives in conjunction to his observations. He is fascinated by this historical component because there is no written history of Scotland at the time. The lives of the Scots and the old world are passed down through oral histories, and on occasion by Bards, professional oral historians or story tellers. Johnson enjoyed the Bards not only for their narrative stories, but for the insight he gleamed from them: “After these Bards were some of my first inquiries; and I received such answers as, for a while, made me please myself with my increase of knowledge; for I had not then learned how to estimate the narration of a Highlander” (113).
Johnson reveled in his pursuit of knowledge. He highly enjoyed satisfying his series of inquiries in his travels through Scotland to the Hebrides and learning about the land, its people, and their history. Through his numerous and detailed observations, he was able to recollect his experience and deliver thorough exposition of the state of Scotland through his writing. He paints a vivid image of his journey, and its lack of trees, to share his thoughts about on his quest for knowledge and the insight gained. Johnson briefly sums up his travel experience, concludes, and gives a disclaimer to his observations and reflections in his last paragraph:
Such are the things which this journey has given me an opportunity of seeing, and such are the reflections which that sight has raised. Having passed my time almost wholly in cities, I may have been surprised by modes of life and appearances of nature, that are familiar to men of wider survey and more varied conversation. Novelty and ignorance must always be reciprocal, and I cannot but be conscious that my thoughts on national manners, are the thoughts of one who has seen but little (152).
These long walks are for personal understanding and a desire to connect. We aim to be storymakers and storytellers, as we see how our journeys tie into others’ throughout culture, history, and time. When we take the time to walk, step by step, into the unknown, or the seemingly known, we have the ability to see and reflect on our surroundings in the upmost intimate of fashions. We walk and write so that we may better understand ourselves and the world. And to expand our comprehension of such things so that the two may operate more completely.
Works Cited
Johnson, Samuel, and James Boswell. Journey to the Western Islands of Scotland/Journal of a Tour to the Hebrides. Harmondsworth, Middlesex: Penguin, 1984.
McNeish, Cameron, and Richard Else. Scotland End to End: Walking the Gore-Tex Scottish National Trail. Newtonmore, Inverness-shire: Mountain Media Production, 2012.
Wainwright, Alfred, and Derry Brabbs. Wainwright on the Pennine Way. London: Frances Lincoln Limited, 2014.
