The author likes to walk alone. He visits remote spots in the western highlands of Scotland near the coast at different times of year. His writing follows his rambling. And rambling it is. He wanders with only vaguely specific places in mind. Quite happy to be diverted if he finds something interesting along the way. The descriptions of landscape and wildlife are detailed. He paints a good picture. He reminisces about yoiuthful hitchhiking in South America telling us he deliberately did not take a camera as the constant thought about what might be an interesting picture would have distracted him from enjoying the moment. Which make me wonder about his writing style. It's detailed. Does he take notes as he goes along? Does he sit every night and right up the day's events? Or does he have good recall and puts it all down days, weeks or months later? Is the thought that his purpose in wandering is to write about it colour how he sees things? Is it as distracting as a camera might have been? ( )

I enjoy solo backpacking trips into the wilderness, off of marked trails, to areas clear of other people. But Neil Ansell is obsessed with them. This book is part wilderness travelogue, part exploration into what it is that that drives him to seek the lonely places, and part elegy to his fading hearing and the impact of its loss to his connection with nature. ( )

Unimpressive at first sight or when just summarized. Just, maybe, like the landscape Ansell is wandering aimlessly. The beauty lies within and only comes to those who have the patience and sensitivity to be patient. It is, after all, everything that a nature hound needs. Not much else. The book teaches simplicity, a simple life in a nature that is far from simple.

Neil Ansell likes being alone left to his thoughts and musings and preferably in a place where he can absorb the tranquillity whilst being outdoors. It hasn't happened as much as it used to as he now has two daughters and the responsibilities that come with being a parent.

His chosen wilderness is the West Coast of Scotland. This landscape offers the heady mix of islands, white beaches and blue seas, temperate rainforests (yes really), undisturbed lochs and majestic mountains. He has chosen this part of the UK to take long walks across the terrain in each of the seasons, aiming to immerse himself in nature and become part of it rather than just an observer. The interplay of light across the rolling hills as the weather changes almost minute by minute. Being so remote, the chances of coming across other people is unlikely and as he treads softly across the landscape and his solitary presence means that he gets to see far more of the animals that inhabit here. The joy of watching otters slipping into the sea lochs, seeing stags silhouetted on the skyline and seeing golden and sea eagles soaring above is tempered by a profound change in the way that he senses the world around. Almost deaf in one ear, he had relied for years on his other, but now that is fading from the highest frequencies down and the bird songs that once delighted him now inhabits his memories only.

Ansell is widely travelled; five continents and over fifty countries is quite a record. He has lived in a forest in Scandinavia, hitchhiked across countries, seen the wild animals of the Amazon, lived in squats in London and spent five years in a cottage in Wales with no running water or electricity. By returning to the same part of Scotland, it feels like a spiritual journey and he connects deeply to the landscape each time he visits, but it is tinged with the remorse that he has of no longer being able to hear the birdsong. It is a beautiful book to read, he has a knack of teasing out all that he sees around him into the most exquisite prose. I think that the writing is as good as Deep Country, which if you haven’t read then you should. Another excellent book from Ansell. ( )

Ancell’s visits to the Rough Bounds of northwestern Scotland are an escape to solitude, the culmination of a desire to roam without telling anyone where he is going so as to be free of the responsibility of their concern for him. He especially regrets the fading of birdsong from his travels for his increasing deafness allows him to see birds but not hear them such that he feels diminished. A fell walker, a hill walker, a roamer, a rambler, a wanderer, or a hiker (in Canadian terms) are apt descriptors for the author who self describes as “not a great planner” who tends to misplace or forget essential items. Readers will admire his keen observation skills, encyclopedic knowledge of U.K. birdlife, dogged determination in the face of inclement weather or physical limitations, love of wild places, and such descriptive language as to make one feel right alongside him. ( )