This fascinating ramble through the history of walking delves into our relationship with the British countryside. ‘Ramble On’ tells the story of how country walks were transformed from a small and often illegal pastime to the most popular recreational activity in the country.
From the brave band of hikers who scaled the off-limits peak Kinder Scout in 1932, via the intricate Lake District guides of Alfred Wainwright, to the resistant landowners (including the notorious Nicholas Van Hoogstraten, Madonna and Jeremy Clarkson) who have done their level best (and worst) to keep walkers off their land – this is the definitive history of rambling.
Perfectly capturing the sense of exhilaration on reaching the summit of a blustery hill-top path, ‘Ramble On’ is for anyone who has ever pulled on a pair of walking boots or is partial to the taste of Kendal mintcake.
Ramble On is ‘the story of our love for Britain’ - it’s a book for hiking lovers, worshippers of trail and goretex. Very much my kind of book. Full of history about trespass, enclosure, the ramblers association, Wainwright, YHA, the Pennine Way… and various other famous walkers, poets, anecdotes and walking stories, all flowing together like the contours of a map.
As a lover of long walks and wide open spaces I’ve been finding it hard to be shut inside during the COVID-19 lockdown, particularly since we’ve had a long spell of beautiful weather. It seemed like a good moment to read this book which has been lurking on my shelves for some time. It’s a history of the struggles that walkers have faced over the last century or so in getting access to wild land told through the medium of walks taken by the author in those contested areas. As a social history of a popular movement it’s never without interest and I enjoyed some of the more tangential takes on rambling at night or in post-industrial landscapes, or the eeriness of solitary walking. As a travelogue it’s rather less successful; McKay’s experiences are too fleeting to add much context to the stories he is telling.
I did like this book but at times i did feel the author went off track....sorry.... and he rambled on a bit, sorry again, i couldn't understand where he was going at times but glad i stayed with it. He wrote it I think for intellectuals using words I have never heard of and I am a lover of the English language. I don't think that was helpful as i expect many readers thought it was going to be a nice EASY read.
This book was rather like a relaxing walk. An amalgam (forgive me!) of walks described, such that you almost experience them, and a history of the right to ramble that we enjoy today. It's a 'pick up, read, and put down again' book, and I have enjoyed doing that for the past few months. And I've learnt the meaning of a few new words!
Ramble On tells the story of outdoor access (specifically walking) through a series of journeys, through not only the landscape of the British Isles, but through literature and popular culture. The works of Wordsworth and Keats sit side by side with the “Carry-On” films, assisting the author to expand on a wide variety of subjects, all tied up under the umbrella of walking. From why we walk, to where we walk, to what we wear to walk, all covered with a fresh and at times witty eye. The layout of the book is such that it would translate well to television, and I wouldn’t be surprised to see it pop up there at some point. Each chapter deals with a topic and a journey, and covers areas which I am familiar with through personal experience and others only through books or television. It does, as you would expect, focus more on England, but Scotland and Wales don’t go unmentioned. Indeed the chapters on Rannoch Moor and on The Cairngorms will be of particular interest to those whose walking is centred in Scotland, although they aren’t confined to two brief chapters, the issues within often having cross border relevance. It deals not only with the subjects which you would expect to find in such a book, the 1932 mass trespass at Kinder Scout, and the musings of Alfred Wainwright, but with a host of others. Walks along the Thames Coastal Path and the canals of Birmingham look at urban reclamation in the face of the decline in heavy industry. Class war and trades unionism, foot and mouth, power generation, all are touched upon to some degree, but there are omissions. One of the regular topics of conversation amongst walkers is the effect on the landscape of windfarms, and while hydro power and the accompanying pylons are discussed the rotating elephant in the corner isn’t. Neither is the age old bone of contention as to whether waterproof trousers go outside or inside gaiters, but perhaps that would require a volume in itself.
The cover illustration invites you in, and I found the book engaging from the start. To me, it reads like a ramble in that each chapter beckons you on, teasing you and informing you, before hitting the metaphorical barbed wire fence or ‘private, keep out’ sign, which the author has strung in my path. I must admit that perhaps once or twice each chapter had me reaching for the dictionary, scrambling for definitions to what are, to me, some of the more obscure words in the text. Perhaps it’s more a sign of my ignorance than the authors’ great wealth of vocabulary, but I found the regular noting down of words for later research interrupted the momentum of the book. Still, I now know about 50 new words….
This is a great book which should be read by anyone with an interest in access and the right to roam. If you’ve ever gone down a path and been confronted by a ‘No Trespassing’ sign which has made your blood boil, this is the book you’ve been waiting for.
This is the perfect book to read during lockdown for the avid walker and armchair explorer. Sinclair McKay lyrically describes the most beautiful parts of the British Isles - and sometimes the not so beautiful - whilst interweaving literature and the history of walking for leisure into his narrative. The right to walk across many footpaths has been a hard won battle, fought by left wing workers wanting access to countryside on their precious days off, all the way to MPs in the House of Commons passing laws to allow such access. Out of this movement grew the protection of tracts of unspoilt land that became National Parks and also the development of long distance trails, such a the Pennine Way and Coast to Coast Walk, which we now take for granted. McKay considers the conflict between townies and country dwellers and discussed the economic benefits to rural economies diversifying away from less lucrative traditional incomes. If you like the idea of being transported to a variety of locations around the nation from the luxury of your armchair, whilst pondering the significance of walking, then this is a great opportunity to read this book and seek inspiration for when lockdown is lifted.
I’m a walker. Am I a rambler? Probably not. This book explores what it is to be someone who is either, and something in between. It does it in a rambling way, almost certainly on purpose, but it does feel a little *too* disjointed at times. Also, it has the feel of something that would be a collection of Sunday supplement articles, which is perhaps not surprising given its author is a journalist.
It could have been trimmed to about half the pages and still been enjoyable, but as it is you’re often left wondering how so little information has been given in so many words, and you often want a little more of the detail still. Many passages feel half-formed in actual story, and by that I mean there’s often a beginning and middle, but no real end.
It was an OK read, but I’ve read far, far more that made me want to put my boots on and get out there.
So I reached into my bright blue/orange Montane rucksack, and wearing my bright orange Arc'teryx jacket proceeded to read a chapter where a man criticised such gear...
It's obvious that me and Sinclair have a few ideological differences, both in clothing styles and why we walk.
I feel like the book reads like a piece of coursework, the topic is interesting and there were chapters where I was very enthralled. But there were other chapters which were slow and seemed to refer more to other pieces of work than what the chapter was actually talking about.
Overall it was alright, there are good chapters and bad chapters and I probably would.have enjoyed it more had it not been for mine and Sinclair's differences.
Nothing extraordinary, but a well-written, well-rounded series of essays covering the history of the last few centuries of walking from cultural, legal and political perspectives. The chapters are anchored and titled by references to particular walks throughout the UK (except Northern Ireland).
Written by an enthusiast, rather than an expert, it was the right depth of approach for me.
The act of taking a stroll in the countryside is now a right that we take for granted, and this right has been fought for on the land and in the political arena for decades.
McKay takes us on a series of short walks, and whilst doing so he considers the political, social, and historical aspects of walking in the UK. We go from the Kinder Scout mass trespass, to urban walks in London, skirting the edge of Salisbury Plain and up to Rannoch Moor, one of the few wild places left in these isles. Some of the book is purely dedicated to the political struggle, and there are chapters on the clothing that walkers use, ley lines and night walking.
Over all it was a reasonable read. He has researched the book well, and there are plenty of facts and anecdotes and he seems to have covered most things that are walking and rambling related. What he does seem to be missing though is a chapter on maps. I know that there are lots of other books on maps out there, mostly because I have read a lot of them, but it would have made this more complete. Really a 3.5 star book, but I am feeling generous.
It was like I was at the places and walks with him. So descriptive but not boring in the way it does it. Full of adventure and intresting facts about key people, places and movements that helped shape our walking history.
I've read three or four books about walking this year, so I was a bit disappointed in this one, especially in comparison to Robert Macfarlane's recent book, 'The Old Ways'. This is a different thing, less personal, more a kind of potted history of walking and the walking and rambling movements in the UK, and not the personal or the profound. It seems a bit of a project without passion somehow. McKay has written about the Bond films, Bletchley Park, and now walking. What next?
That said, I'm going to use this to help plan my own walking trip to England next year!
Interesting pieces on walking in Britain. The piecing of historical facts and personal retelling is done quite well, though rambles off without much impact. Feels more like various newspaper columns than one coherent narrative - but very much recommended for anyone who is interested in walking in Britain, its history, its culture and oddities.
We take our right to walk in the countryside for granted. The author takes us on short walks, and comments on the political, social, and historical aspects of walking in the UK. The topics range from to the political struggle for access, to esoteric things like ley lines. Well researched (faint praise?) with plenty of facts and anecdotes, I found it an interesting read.
Fantastic book, learned a lot about walking and interesting to consider all the different angles. I do a lot of rambling in the English countryside and this book informed me and affirmed some conclusions I've come to over the years.
McKay takes a look at walking in Britain through history and through walking in places you'd expect, like the Peak District, and in unexpected places, like cities and the Thames Marshes. An enjoyable book, which could inspire a reader.
Great topic - pretty thoroughly explored - somehow fails to get into its stride - best bit was the walk near the MOD barracks, I wish the rest of the book went at the same pace.