Hmmm… This glossy, repetitive book wants us to believe that slow travel is attainable for everyone, and indeed should be a considered way to go about our lives, for the amount we can discover, and the depth of experience we can bring back to our humdrum. The author's background seems to have been showy travel journalism, and it shows – these pages are just littered with carefully staged photos of her, random family members and fellow travellers, artfully arrayed in their walking clobber across wondrous hillscapes. These are not selfies – sometimes the photographer seems a hundred yards from the subject. Someone has bought a drone.
What the book wants is to portray the benefits of slow travel, and goes about it in multiple ways. First we see the way the author has had wonderful felicity in finding wonderful things when travelling off-piste, camping with a car as propellant or lugging a whole camper-van around. Fine, if you have the means and the desire to be permanently outdoors. We then see the benefits of connecting with where we're going and who we might meet there over food, which also failed to convince. At one point everyone is going to crack open their doors and have a spread laid out for all of you and all their friends to have a jolly conversational meal. It seemed as true as that old saw about how people will always jump up and invite you, the Johnny Foreigner, to their wedding party. I've tried that, it doesn't work.
After that we're back on the modes of transport, like sleeper trains and long distance walks, whether strict pilgrimages or otherwise, and sailing (even wild swimming) gets a look-in. A separate chapter takes in the virtues of being alone in the wilds – safely, and again you sense the photographer just off-camera with every visual page turn. No, you're not alone in a bothy. Then it's an attempt, more successfully, to get this kind of ethos into city breaks – looking at cemeteries for forest bathing, greenways, and generally getting lost off the beaten track.
I like the idea of a lot of this, but I know how I travel, and I like the way I travel, and the whole aeroplane magazine gloss attached to everything kind of put me off, meaning much of this still had the appearance of merely being unattainable. Doing a Dice Man-styled routine of choosing the way to turn of a morning, seeing the world through local eyes (and those of waterboatmen and river sewage, as in the UK), chillaxing while also on the move and learning about places – all seems sensible, but also fanciful. And I fear a better book would have won me over and encouraged me to think again about it. Two and a half stars.