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Between the Sunset and the Sea: A View of 16 British Mountains
‘I watched the mirror for a last view, for now, of the frozen mountains of Glen Coe. As the road bent and the outline of Buachaille Etive Mor slid into sight, I did what I always did, and always would. I felt for that flutter of awe and that indefinable, unmistakable quickening of the pulse.’
In the late 18th century, mountains shifted from being universally reviled to becoming the most inspiring things on earth. Simply put, the monsters became muses – and an entire artistic movement was born. This movement became a love affair, the love affair became an obsession, and gradually but surely, obsession became lifestyle as mountains became stitched into the fabric of the British cultural tapestry.
In his compelling new book, Simon Ingram explores how mountains became such a preoccupation for the modern western imagination, weaving his own adventures into a powerful narrative which provides a kind of experiential hit list for people who don’t have the time nor the will to climb a thousand mountains.
For some of these mountains, the most amazing thing about them might be the journey they’ve taken to get here. Others, the tales of science, endeavour and art that have played out on their slopes. The mythology they’re drenched in. The history they’ve seen. The genius they’ve inspired. The danger that draws people to them. The life that clusters around them, human and otherwise. The extreme weather they conjure. The adventure they fuel. The way that some raise the hairs on the back of your neck, and trigger powerful, strange emotions. And moreover, what they’re like to be amidst, under, on – just what that indefinable quality is that the British mountains wield which takes possession of you so powerfully, and never goes away.
Ingram takes us high into the rafters of Britain’s most forbidding, unflinching and unchanging wild places through all the seasons of the year – from the first blush of spring to the deepest, darkest bite of the mountain winter. From Beinn Dearg to Ben Nevis, he takes us on a journey spanning sixteen of Britain’s most evocative mountainous landscapes, and what they mean to us today.
In the late 18th century, mountains shifted from being universally reviled to becoming the most inspiring things on earth. Simply put, the monsters became muses – and an entire artistic movement was born. This movement became a love affair, the love affair became an obsession, and gradually but surely, obsession became lifestyle as mountains became stitched into the fabric of the British cultural tapestry.
In his compelling new book, Simon Ingram explores how mountains became such a preoccupation for the modern western imagination, weaving his own adventures into a powerful narrative which provides a kind of experiential hit list for people who don’t have the time nor the will to climb a thousand mountains.
For some of these mountains, the most amazing thing about them might be the journey they’ve taken to get here. Others, the tales of science, endeavour and art that have played out on their slopes. The mythology they’re drenched in. The history they’ve seen. The genius they’ve inspired. The danger that draws people to them. The life that clusters around them, human and otherwise. The extreme weather they conjure. The adventure they fuel. The way that some raise the hairs on the back of your neck, and trigger powerful, strange emotions. And moreover, what they’re like to be amidst, under, on – just what that indefinable quality is that the British mountains wield which takes possession of you so powerfully, and never goes away.
Ingram takes us high into the rafters of Britain’s most forbidding, unflinching and unchanging wild places through all the seasons of the year – from the first blush of spring to the deepest, darkest bite of the mountain winter. From Beinn Dearg to Ben Nevis, he takes us on a journey spanning sixteen of Britain’s most evocative mountainous landscapes, and what they mean to us today.
449 pages, Kindle Edition
First published March 12, 2015
20 people are currently reading
165 people want to read
About the author
Simon Ingram
4 books4 followersSIMON INGRAM is an internationally published journalist and author.
His work has appeared in publications including National Geographic, The Independent, The Sunday Times and a range of magazines and periodicals such as Landscape, Empire, and the Ernest Journal.
After graduating in geological science, he started his career in adventure and travel journalism in 2004. He was the editor of Trail Magazine for nine years and has been a columnist for The Guardian‘s century-old Country Diary since 2016.
His first book Between the Sunset and the Sea (HarperCollins, 2015) won wide critical praise. His work has been translated into six languages and his photographs have appeared on the covers of magazines and books.
He lives in Stamford, Lincolnshire.
His work has appeared in publications including National Geographic, The Independent, The Sunday Times and a range of magazines and periodicals such as Landscape, Empire, and the Ernest Journal.
After graduating in geological science, he started his career in adventure and travel journalism in 2004. He was the editor of Trail Magazine for nine years and has been a columnist for The Guardian‘s century-old Country Diary since 2016.
His first book Between the Sunset and the Sea (HarperCollins, 2015) won wide critical praise. His work has been translated into six languages and his photographs have appeared on the covers of magazines and books.
He lives in Stamford, Lincolnshire.
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Displaying 1 - 27 of 27 reviews
August 23, 2015
Whilst Britain may not have the same dramatic peaks as the Alps or other mountain ranges, the mountains that it does have are no less significant. But they have not always been held in this regard. Until the advent of sightseeing and the picturesque they were considered to be the leftovers from the hand of creation. It was only when people started to climb them that they started to take on a greater importance.
Seeing mountains is one thing, but the only way to truly appreciate them is to climb them. As part of this book, Ingram sets out to climb 16 of them; Beinn Dearg, The Black Mountain, Cadair Idris, Crib Goch, Cnicht, Cross Fell, Schiehallion, Ben Loyal, An Teallach, The Assynt Hills, Askival, Ladhar Bheinn, Loughrigg Fell, Great Gable, Ben Macdui and the highest of them all Ben Nevis. As he walks and climbs, he explores what makes them noteworthy, through their history and their place in mountain folklore. There are chapters on the weather, where he walks across the Peak District hoping to experience and hear the legendary Helm Wind, on art where he meet a third generation artist who now explores the texture of mountains in his pictures. Other chapters cover the advent of the sport of rock climbing and where contour lines were conceived, and of course the Ordnance Survey is mentioned frequently. The chapter of Terror is about Ben Macdui and the unreal things that happen to people whilst on the mountains, from hearing footsteps in the snow as they walk, to voices and other creepy things. The chapter on Danger is about the astonishing kill rate of our hills. Even though they are substantially smaller than others, the problem here is the weather and the way it changes so rapidly from calm and dry to driving wind and rain. The final chapter, Summit, is the assent of Ben Nevis in the depths of winter, and is a fitting end to the book.
Thought that the title of the book was slightly odd, it didn’t really fit with the central premise of the book. It did also take a couple of chapters to get into, but after that you really pick up Ingram passion for these mountains. The research and detail that he has gone into are good too. Some of the subject he covers I know of because I have read around the subject, but there were lots of other things in the book that I didn’t know of. I liked the way he used each climb to introduce and talk about each subject, but this is primarily a book about climbing and you feel that you are with him every step of the way.
Seeing mountains is one thing, but the only way to truly appreciate them is to climb them. As part of this book, Ingram sets out to climb 16 of them; Beinn Dearg, The Black Mountain, Cadair Idris, Crib Goch, Cnicht, Cross Fell, Schiehallion, Ben Loyal, An Teallach, The Assynt Hills, Askival, Ladhar Bheinn, Loughrigg Fell, Great Gable, Ben Macdui and the highest of them all Ben Nevis. As he walks and climbs, he explores what makes them noteworthy, through their history and their place in mountain folklore. There are chapters on the weather, where he walks across the Peak District hoping to experience and hear the legendary Helm Wind, on art where he meet a third generation artist who now explores the texture of mountains in his pictures. Other chapters cover the advent of the sport of rock climbing and where contour lines were conceived, and of course the Ordnance Survey is mentioned frequently. The chapter of Terror is about Ben Macdui and the unreal things that happen to people whilst on the mountains, from hearing footsteps in the snow as they walk, to voices and other creepy things. The chapter on Danger is about the astonishing kill rate of our hills. Even though they are substantially smaller than others, the problem here is the weather and the way it changes so rapidly from calm and dry to driving wind and rain. The final chapter, Summit, is the assent of Ben Nevis in the depths of winter, and is a fitting end to the book.
Thought that the title of the book was slightly odd, it didn’t really fit with the central premise of the book. It did also take a couple of chapters to get into, but after that you really pick up Ingram passion for these mountains. The research and detail that he has gone into are good too. Some of the subject he covers I know of because I have read around the subject, but there were lots of other things in the book that I didn’t know of. I liked the way he used each climb to introduce and talk about each subject, but this is primarily a book about climbing and you feel that you are with him every step of the way.
November 28, 2017
First, though, there’s the matter of exactly what qualifies as a mountain. People argue all the time about this. They kick numbers around, use terms like ‘prominence’ and ‘relative height’, quibble over a metre here, a foot there, and get sniffy about certain hills because they don’t hit a certain all-important benchmark. But in my book – and this is my book – it’s all a bit unnecessary. Mountains were never meant to be specific; they’re chaotic, and all about feeling and aesthetics. If it looks like a mountain and it feels like a mountain, then it is a mountain.
For reasons that I will explain soon, this book and I got off to a shaky start, but the writing is good enough to have made me want to continue and it turned into one of the most thought-provoking and wide-ranging nature books that I have read.
The basic concept behind the book, the idea that gives it its sub-title (the title comes from a poem), is that the author climbed (actually, "walked up" - you don’t actually need to do real climbing for mountains in the UK) sixteen mountains spread across the UK and wrote about his experiences. But, in reality, that idea is just a launching pad for a far broader exploration of a lot of different topics.
First of all, though, how do you go about selecting a list of just sixteen mountains? The UK does not have mountains like some other countries have mountains, but it does have spectacular climbs to reasonably high pinnacles and it does have some awesome views on offer as a reward.
Over recent years, my wife and I have fallen in love with the British countryside, especially Scotland. For many years, our holidays were spent getting on a plane and flying to other countries, but nowadays, we jump in the car and drive to part of the UK, especially to one of the islands off the west coast of Scotland. They are stunning. And largely they are stunning because of their mountains.
So, how do you select just sixteen to use for your book?
All mountains are different, of course. If you were to seek an example of every unique quality they possess the list would easily run to a thousand. But what my list would provide was a kind of experiential mountain hit list for people who don’t have the time or will to climb a thousand of them. A list that, were someone to ask you which British mountains they should climb – and you could only pick a dozen, say – would make a pretty impressive answer. This wasn’t just a ten highest, a twenty prettiest or a thirty most likely to make you shriek; it was something much more subtle and infinitely more interesting.
This is the author’s explanation. But it is also true that he is able to use each mountain climb to explore not just the physical mountain but also an additional topic inspired by the mountain. So, for example, we have chapters that focus on the legends that spring from mountains, the science that has been done on mountains, the island life in a small community by a mountain, art that is inspired by mountains, mountains as a place for sport, and so on.
As a keen nature lover, perhaps the chapter that resonated most with me was the one on "wilderness" and, judging by the passion it arouses in the author, it might be his favourite too:
Wilderness is precious, for sure. Smaller in scale than it once was. And it’s threatened, too – not by towns, and certainly not by overpopulation. It’s threatened by apathy. It’s threatened by titanic, stutteringly inefficient wind farms – once described by writer Robert Macfarlane as ‘Colgate-white neo forests’ – monopolising vast swathes of open wild land. And it’s threatened by the very people who want you to believe that there’s nothing worth saving here, that Britain’s wild places amount to a sort of bonsai garden of ornamental curiosity. It isn’t. Britain still has teeth. Whether it’s the frozen dawn deep in a valley in the Chilterns, the pathless bank of a Pennine river, or the wind-scarred cliffs of a Hebridean isle, wilderness – both big and small, and equally covetable – still exists.
And I enjoyed the chapter on art, too, which included this quote from an artist called Julian Cooper:
When a piece of land inclines toward the vertical, our relationship towards it changes. We can no longer walk on it and it cannot grow food for us. So we either ignore it, or it becomes an aesthetic object in itself, akin to a work of art.
Recently, I read the book Robinson by Jack Robinson. The blurb for that book includes the statement ”Written following the 2016 referendum in which the UK voted to quit the European Union, Robinson is in part a record of the disfiguring influence of Defoe’s novel (Robinson Crusoe, of course) on British education and culture. It seems that Defoe has a lot to answer for, because this book then says of mountains that:
They certainly seemed to have scared the life out of Daniel Defoe, who travelled extensively throughout Britain and wrote prolifically of his movements in a series of letters, which together comprise some of the first travel literature of its kind. In his voluminous A tour thro’ the whole island of Great Britain, divided into circuits or journies from 1724, he picks his descriptions of the many mountains he met from what appears to be a very limited pot of adjectives, all of them negative.
It seems that Defoe turned us into a nation of isolationists who hated our most impressive natural features! Our view of mountains has, for many people shifted from dislike to admiration, but we aren’t doing so well on the isolationist bit at the moment.
I said that I got off to a shaky start with this book and I need to explain why before I finish. In the first few chapters, you can be forgiven for thinking that the author is a fool: he sets off for dangerous walks into mountainous terrain with carefree abandon and occasionally with the wrong rucksack on his back. I’m not a serious walker but I’ve walked enough to know you should be very careful not to underestimate the weather and the rapidly changing conditions that are prevalent in the UK. Near the start of the book, I got so annoyed with the author for his recklessness that I nearly stopped reading. I’m glad I kept going because not only did he improve, but his book is a truly excellent read.
Perhaps the book has limited appeal given its specific focus on UK mountains. But I will finish with a quote that shows that it also contains some “life lessons” that apply to all of us.
For your mind, the top is the finish line – the apex towards which all your concentration is directed. But for your body, it’s merely the halfway point. The physical and emotional crash of summiting, coupled with the underestimation of what a descent demands as your wits slowly unravel, are the reason why – on all mountains, everywhere, and by a considerable margin – most accidents occur on descent.
An excellent read for anyone interested in the natural world, particularly if you are British.
For reasons that I will explain soon, this book and I got off to a shaky start, but the writing is good enough to have made me want to continue and it turned into one of the most thought-provoking and wide-ranging nature books that I have read.
The basic concept behind the book, the idea that gives it its sub-title (the title comes from a poem), is that the author climbed (actually, "walked up" - you don’t actually need to do real climbing for mountains in the UK) sixteen mountains spread across the UK and wrote about his experiences. But, in reality, that idea is just a launching pad for a far broader exploration of a lot of different topics.
First of all, though, how do you go about selecting a list of just sixteen mountains? The UK does not have mountains like some other countries have mountains, but it does have spectacular climbs to reasonably high pinnacles and it does have some awesome views on offer as a reward.
Over recent years, my wife and I have fallen in love with the British countryside, especially Scotland. For many years, our holidays were spent getting on a plane and flying to other countries, but nowadays, we jump in the car and drive to part of the UK, especially to one of the islands off the west coast of Scotland. They are stunning. And largely they are stunning because of their mountains.
So, how do you select just sixteen to use for your book?
All mountains are different, of course. If you were to seek an example of every unique quality they possess the list would easily run to a thousand. But what my list would provide was a kind of experiential mountain hit list for people who don’t have the time or will to climb a thousand of them. A list that, were someone to ask you which British mountains they should climb – and you could only pick a dozen, say – would make a pretty impressive answer. This wasn’t just a ten highest, a twenty prettiest or a thirty most likely to make you shriek; it was something much more subtle and infinitely more interesting.
This is the author’s explanation. But it is also true that he is able to use each mountain climb to explore not just the physical mountain but also an additional topic inspired by the mountain. So, for example, we have chapters that focus on the legends that spring from mountains, the science that has been done on mountains, the island life in a small community by a mountain, art that is inspired by mountains, mountains as a place for sport, and so on.
As a keen nature lover, perhaps the chapter that resonated most with me was the one on "wilderness" and, judging by the passion it arouses in the author, it might be his favourite too:
Wilderness is precious, for sure. Smaller in scale than it once was. And it’s threatened, too – not by towns, and certainly not by overpopulation. It’s threatened by apathy. It’s threatened by titanic, stutteringly inefficient wind farms – once described by writer Robert Macfarlane as ‘Colgate-white neo forests’ – monopolising vast swathes of open wild land. And it’s threatened by the very people who want you to believe that there’s nothing worth saving here, that Britain’s wild places amount to a sort of bonsai garden of ornamental curiosity. It isn’t. Britain still has teeth. Whether it’s the frozen dawn deep in a valley in the Chilterns, the pathless bank of a Pennine river, or the wind-scarred cliffs of a Hebridean isle, wilderness – both big and small, and equally covetable – still exists.
And I enjoyed the chapter on art, too, which included this quote from an artist called Julian Cooper:
When a piece of land inclines toward the vertical, our relationship towards it changes. We can no longer walk on it and it cannot grow food for us. So we either ignore it, or it becomes an aesthetic object in itself, akin to a work of art.
Recently, I read the book Robinson by Jack Robinson. The blurb for that book includes the statement ”Written following the 2016 referendum in which the UK voted to quit the European Union, Robinson is in part a record of the disfiguring influence of Defoe’s novel (Robinson Crusoe, of course) on British education and culture. It seems that Defoe has a lot to answer for, because this book then says of mountains that:
They certainly seemed to have scared the life out of Daniel Defoe, who travelled extensively throughout Britain and wrote prolifically of his movements in a series of letters, which together comprise some of the first travel literature of its kind. In his voluminous A tour thro’ the whole island of Great Britain, divided into circuits or journies from 1724, he picks his descriptions of the many mountains he met from what appears to be a very limited pot of adjectives, all of them negative.
It seems that Defoe turned us into a nation of isolationists who hated our most impressive natural features! Our view of mountains has, for many people shifted from dislike to admiration, but we aren’t doing so well on the isolationist bit at the moment.
I said that I got off to a shaky start with this book and I need to explain why before I finish. In the first few chapters, you can be forgiven for thinking that the author is a fool: he sets off for dangerous walks into mountainous terrain with carefree abandon and occasionally with the wrong rucksack on his back. I’m not a serious walker but I’ve walked enough to know you should be very careful not to underestimate the weather and the rapidly changing conditions that are prevalent in the UK. Near the start of the book, I got so annoyed with the author for his recklessness that I nearly stopped reading. I’m glad I kept going because not only did he improve, but his book is a truly excellent read.
Perhaps the book has limited appeal given its specific focus on UK mountains. But I will finish with a quote that shows that it also contains some “life lessons” that apply to all of us.
For your mind, the top is the finish line – the apex towards which all your concentration is directed. But for your body, it’s merely the halfway point. The physical and emotional crash of summiting, coupled with the underestimation of what a descent demands as your wits slowly unravel, are the reason why – on all mountains, everywhere, and by a considerable margin – most accidents occur on descent.
An excellent read for anyone interested in the natural world, particularly if you are British.
January 8, 2018
If you have any interest in hill walking, rock climbing or mountaineering then this is an important book for you to read. Whether it helps you to prepare for your first walk or motivate you to take on a bigger challenge, this book will give you a better appreciation for a mountain and what has been done to make them available to us. The book is jam packed full of history, geology, etymology, science, fun facts and personal experience.
Simon Ingram can only be described as a nutter, anybody willing to climb Ben Nevis in winter has to be pretty mad. Simon has always walked with a partner in the past and for the start of this book he is walking on his own, his confidence is low to begin with but as he conquers more and more of the mountains you start to see the master appear. As his confidence grows the writing style changes, the tangents he goes off on become longer and longer. This isn't necessarily a bad thing, I'm sure the book would be quite dull if it was just talking about hill after hill. The tangents I mentioned before cover quite a range, the history of the hills, who reached the top first and who didn't, things that have made their way to the top were all interesting. One thing I knew nothing about was the right to walk, all those footpaths around the country we all take for granted had to be fought for which included prison sentences for some. From now on I'll be more aware when using these paths. Also covered was the naming convention, mapping, weather, nature, sport and art.
This book has motivated me into getting off my arse and getting back into hill walking. The last big walk I did was about 5 years ago with my 8yr old daughter, I was quite surprised that the second mountain featured in this book was in-fact the mountain we climbed, The Black Mountain. A nice remote location with very few walkers and some of the maddest weather I've ever been in. Horizontal hailstones, thick fog and gales fast enough to keep knocking me off my feet.
Loved this book, it has a real epic feel to it, could have done with some more photos though as I spent ages on google.
Blog post is here. https://felcherman.wordpress.com/2018...
Simon Ingram can only be described as a nutter, anybody willing to climb Ben Nevis in winter has to be pretty mad. Simon has always walked with a partner in the past and for the start of this book he is walking on his own, his confidence is low to begin with but as he conquers more and more of the mountains you start to see the master appear. As his confidence grows the writing style changes, the tangents he goes off on become longer and longer. This isn't necessarily a bad thing, I'm sure the book would be quite dull if it was just talking about hill after hill. The tangents I mentioned before cover quite a range, the history of the hills, who reached the top first and who didn't, things that have made their way to the top were all interesting. One thing I knew nothing about was the right to walk, all those footpaths around the country we all take for granted had to be fought for which included prison sentences for some. From now on I'll be more aware when using these paths. Also covered was the naming convention, mapping, weather, nature, sport and art.
This book has motivated me into getting off my arse and getting back into hill walking. The last big walk I did was about 5 years ago with my 8yr old daughter, I was quite surprised that the second mountain featured in this book was in-fact the mountain we climbed, The Black Mountain. A nice remote location with very few walkers and some of the maddest weather I've ever been in. Horizontal hailstones, thick fog and gales fast enough to keep knocking me off my feet.
Loved this book, it has a real epic feel to it, could have done with some more photos though as I spent ages on google.
Blog post is here. https://felcherman.wordpress.com/2018...
October 14, 2016
A New Classic Mountaineering Book.
I am an enthusiastic mountain and hill walker. In the rough half century that I have roamed the hills I must have read hundreds of related books. So many are arid factual things, forgotten as soon as read.
This one is a classic for its content and its wonderful writing mix. Ingram has hints of Bill Bryson in his warmth and humour and self deprecation. Hints of Andrew Greig in his ability to paint word pictures and convey his deep passion for remote high places.
There is nothing macho, stiff upper lips lads, about his honest writing. He relates being nervous, even scared, and sometimes lost with a straightness that every serious hill walker will relate to. Like Greig, who's two Himalayan expedition books are regarded as the best of their genre, he suffers but lives with an instinctive fear of heights. But lives with it like another passionate hill writer, Michael Cawthorne.
His format was to select sixteen hills each for a distinctive reason, walk them.
I could have done with sixteen more.
Like Greig or Bryson the subject matter plays second fiddle to a splendid writing style that just rolls you in. His researched factual, historical information again is in the Bryson class.
A book that makes you late, keeps you up, and soothes the soul.
Very different from, say Hamish Brown's classic Hamishs Mountain Walk, but it deserves the same ranking and enduring enthusiasm. Like it Ingrams book is one you will re-read and dip into again and again, for there is so much here.
Could it be bettered? I wondered about more pictures at first. But maybe not. Ingram creates the pictures. Maybe real ones could break his spell.
A classic book. A must for hill lovers, and a spell binding read for anyone.
I am an enthusiastic mountain and hill walker. In the rough half century that I have roamed the hills I must have read hundreds of related books. So many are arid factual things, forgotten as soon as read.
This one is a classic for its content and its wonderful writing mix. Ingram has hints of Bill Bryson in his warmth and humour and self deprecation. Hints of Andrew Greig in his ability to paint word pictures and convey his deep passion for remote high places.
There is nothing macho, stiff upper lips lads, about his honest writing. He relates being nervous, even scared, and sometimes lost with a straightness that every serious hill walker will relate to. Like Greig, who's two Himalayan expedition books are regarded as the best of their genre, he suffers but lives with an instinctive fear of heights. But lives with it like another passionate hill writer, Michael Cawthorne.
His format was to select sixteen hills each for a distinctive reason, walk them.
I could have done with sixteen more.
Like Greig or Bryson the subject matter plays second fiddle to a splendid writing style that just rolls you in. His researched factual, historical information again is in the Bryson class.
A book that makes you late, keeps you up, and soothes the soul.
Very different from, say Hamish Brown's classic Hamishs Mountain Walk, but it deserves the same ranking and enduring enthusiasm. Like it Ingrams book is one you will re-read and dip into again and again, for there is so much here.
Could it be bettered? I wondered about more pictures at first. But maybe not. Ingram creates the pictures. Maybe real ones could break his spell.
A classic book. A must for hill lovers, and a spell binding read for anyone.
March 11, 2021
Like many others I’ve missed getting out in wild landscapes in this year of lockdown. Simon Ingram’s Between the Sunset and the Sea proved to be a good alternative to actually being there. In this leisurely survey of Britain’s highest landscapes he climbs sixteen fells and mountains that he feels represent a variety of upland experiences or reflect elements of science, culture or personality. He paints a vivid picture of each of the sixteen, effectively combining elements of his personal experience of the climb with the bigger story he has to tell. Between the Sunset and the Sea is a must for any lover of wild places frustrated by a year of separation from the landscapes they love.
May 13, 2018
An excellent book that brings walking in the mountains alive. If you're training to be a Mountain Leader, it also has plenty of history and stories that should be very useful for your qualification.
October 1, 2020
Beautiful descriptions and interesting detail, but was a little too slow to keep me engaged.
September 15, 2021
What is like to climb a mountain, and why do people do so? And what do they find, on the ground, in themselves, and in other ways?
This is an attempt to provide some answers to those questions, from the author's point of view, using the ascents (not all completed) of 16 British hills, mostly in Scotland, some in Wales and a few in northern England; some well-known and popular, others less so, and a few downright obscure. The walks are done at various times of the year, some at night (at least in part) and in a variety of weather conditions, including extremely hostile, mostly alone but some with a companion. The author is clearly an experienced walker but nevertheless, at times he gets lost, makes mistakes and behaves in an arguably fool-hardy manner. At times, it seems he is walking to a deadline: he has to walk up a particular hill on the only day available to him, even though it is dark and raining, because he has a book to write.
But he writes well, and thoughtfully, and includes a great deal of information about the hills, the people who live nearby, their surveyors, history, art, literature, and much else. Worth going back to.
This is an attempt to provide some answers to those questions, from the author's point of view, using the ascents (not all completed) of 16 British hills, mostly in Scotland, some in Wales and a few in northern England; some well-known and popular, others less so, and a few downright obscure. The walks are done at various times of the year, some at night (at least in part) and in a variety of weather conditions, including extremely hostile, mostly alone but some with a companion. The author is clearly an experienced walker but nevertheless, at times he gets lost, makes mistakes and behaves in an arguably fool-hardy manner. At times, it seems he is walking to a deadline: he has to walk up a particular hill on the only day available to him, even though it is dark and raining, because he has a book to write.
But he writes well, and thoughtfully, and includes a great deal of information about the hills, the people who live nearby, their surveyors, history, art, literature, and much else. Worth going back to.
March 24, 2017
I don't normally like this kind of travel book: I struggle with books about the landscape that don't include maps and photos, and I often found myself looking up the relevant Ordnance Survey maps on Bing while reading this. Nevertheless, Simon Ingram is such a good writer, and is so good at evoking the experience of walking in the high mountains that it carried me along. He also intersperses his own experiences with, amongst other things, the history of Welsh slate-quarrying, the Romantic vision of nature, and the development of British rock-climbing. His style is both vivid and down-to-earth, in contrast to the more self-conscious poeticism of Robert McFarlane's The Old Ways: A Journey On Foot, which I didn't enjoy so much. He is also inclined to be a bit rash at times, which is rather endearing: his enthusiasm can get the better of him. I still think an illustrated edition with colour photos and maps would be interesting.
May 13, 2018
An excellent read, if a distracting one.
If you're looking for hikes to do in the UK then this is definitely a good book to find inspiration, and even if you're not it's a great read just for the content anyway.
I was slow reading it but that was a mix of flicking back repeatedly because I'd told friends about walks and wanted to get the information for them (there's honestly chapters I've read 4/5 times if not more), while at the same time when I found something interesting I'd end up pottering off to read into it elsewhere and look at more details, maps and routes to see how plausible it would be to do sometime soon (Cadair Idris is definitely to be done this year).
Plus I just lost general interest in reading half-way through, no fault of the book, just me.
If you're looking for hikes to do in the UK then this is definitely a good book to find inspiration, and even if you're not it's a great read just for the content anyway.
I was slow reading it but that was a mix of flicking back repeatedly because I'd told friends about walks and wanted to get the information for them (there's honestly chapters I've read 4/5 times if not more), while at the same time when I found something interesting I'd end up pottering off to read into it elsewhere and look at more details, maps and routes to see how plausible it would be to do sometime soon (Cadair Idris is definitely to be done this year).
Plus I just lost general interest in reading half-way through, no fault of the book, just me.
April 24, 2020
Without a doubt, one of the finest books about British mountains I've read. No harrowing stories of embattled survival, or grandiose macho swaggering here. Just a likeable everyman detailing 16 peaks of the country that he considers among the finest, from 400m Lakeland minnows to the savage giants of Scotland's west coast.
Along the journey that takes the author a year, all aspects of a mountain are detailed, from danger and terror, through art and sport, to light and wilderness. Coupled with this is an extensive delve into mountaineering lore, the history of our mountain areas and a fascinating insight into the process of etymology, of naming the mountains in english, welsh, gaelic and old norse.
An absolutely fascinating book, and one I would very very much recommend.
Along the journey that takes the author a year, all aspects of a mountain are detailed, from danger and terror, through art and sport, to light and wilderness. Coupled with this is an extensive delve into mountaineering lore, the history of our mountain areas and a fascinating insight into the process of etymology, of naming the mountains in english, welsh, gaelic and old norse.
An absolutely fascinating book, and one I would very very much recommend.
July 4, 2018
A passionate (although maybe overlong) description of Ingram's ascent of 16 different British mountains. Each chapter is full of historical, scientific, geographical and occasionally literary information about each mountain or the surrounding areas. I often found these bits more interesting than the accounts of the ascents themselves, which were sometimes a bit dry.
Recommended for anyone who enjoys hill walking.
Recommended for anyone who enjoys hill walking.
July 2, 2019
If this book doesn’t make you want to run out of the door with an OS and a bag of supplies...
Evocative tales of mountain ascents (and occasionally hairier descents) augmented by the author extemporising, philosophising and supplying the most excellently contextual trivia for each peak. A must for mountain fanciers to excite the thrill of summiting.
Evocative tales of mountain ascents (and occasionally hairier descents) augmented by the author extemporising, philosophising and supplying the most excellently contextual trivia for each peak. A must for mountain fanciers to excite the thrill of summiting.
August 23, 2017
An evocative description of some of the best walking and remote country in Britain. If you are a walker, you'll love it, and if not, it will shed a new light on what most perceive as overcrowded Britain.
February 22, 2018
A great book especially if you like mountains and the wild outdoors but still a good read even if that's not really your thing. Some very evocative writing.
April 2, 2018
This is a good book. Sometimes the history lessons can take you away from the mountains.
August 20, 2018
A resounding 5 of course. Great selection Andrew.
October 3, 2020
Wonderful book interweaving powerful descriptive imagery and fascinating stories about the mountains visited.
December 5, 2020
In a year in which my access to the mountains has been severely limited, this book was a much needed tonic, from someone who clearly loves being in them as much as I do.
January 16, 2018
Read many walking/mountain books over the years and can say that this has been up there with the best if not the best.... thank you Simon...
March 31, 2021
Ingram's book gave me a better appreciation for the mountains covered and what their history and significance is. The many interesting facts on the 16 chosen mountains include the naming conventions, their mapping, and their appearance in both sport and art over time. It is interesting that it is often not the most big, popular or well-known mountains that Ingram has chosen, which I appreciated as it literally broadened my horizons.
June 29, 2015
If like me you are a lover the big outdoors and especially getting up into the hills and mountains, then here is a book that will guide you on a journey of 16 of the most outstanding British climbs. This will appeal to those who look and admire and feel tempted to strap on a pair of stout walking boots and climb your first mountain.
This is a mammoth book at 448 pages covering 16 chapters, interspersed with some beautiful artistic black and white photographs that capture the very essence of life in the mountains.
One aspect of this book I liked is that each chapter is broken down into various themes such as Danger, Weather, Terror, Wilderness, as well as a particular mountain that has been selected as part of the 16 then the author climbs that mountain. Anyone who has climbed any of the ‘Wainwrights’ or ‘Munros’ will salivate at this beautifully written book. Simons’ style of writing not only rich but it takes the reader along on each of his treks. That is some achievement for his debut at writing a book. What I took from each of his mountain treks was respect, for the mountain itself like me when I have climbed you become one with your surroundings and the mountain itself, you talk to it and it talks back. I felt this with all 16 mountains described in his book.
The author has very carefully selected each mountain that I found worked along with each of the chapters, mountains such as Beinn Dearg, An Teallach, Loughrigg Fell and Great Gable are covered. The more I read through this book, the more I came to the conclusion that this was not just a book about 16 mountains it becomes more of a larger theatre, as in covers so much more such as the history, science, travel, History and so on. This is a book that will over time come into its own and may even have set the agenda for writing books about mountains and especially getting out there for yourself and experiencing hill and mountain climbs. Exhilarating just like this book really.
This reviewer is now off to dig his boots out and give them an outing.
RECOMMENDED
This is a mammoth book at 448 pages covering 16 chapters, interspersed with some beautiful artistic black and white photographs that capture the very essence of life in the mountains.
One aspect of this book I liked is that each chapter is broken down into various themes such as Danger, Weather, Terror, Wilderness, as well as a particular mountain that has been selected as part of the 16 then the author climbs that mountain. Anyone who has climbed any of the ‘Wainwrights’ or ‘Munros’ will salivate at this beautifully written book. Simons’ style of writing not only rich but it takes the reader along on each of his treks. That is some achievement for his debut at writing a book. What I took from each of his mountain treks was respect, for the mountain itself like me when I have climbed you become one with your surroundings and the mountain itself, you talk to it and it talks back. I felt this with all 16 mountains described in his book.
The author has very carefully selected each mountain that I found worked along with each of the chapters, mountains such as Beinn Dearg, An Teallach, Loughrigg Fell and Great Gable are covered. The more I read through this book, the more I came to the conclusion that this was not just a book about 16 mountains it becomes more of a larger theatre, as in covers so much more such as the history, science, travel, History and so on. This is a book that will over time come into its own and may even have set the agenda for writing books about mountains and especially getting out there for yourself and experiencing hill and mountain climbs. Exhilarating just like this book really.
This reviewer is now off to dig his boots out and give them an outing.
RECOMMENDED
June 29, 2015
If like me you are a lover the big outdoors and especially getting up into the hills and mountains, then here is a book that will guide you on a journey of 16 of the most outstanding British climbs. This will appeal to those who look and admire and feel tempted to strap on a pair of stout walking boots and climb your first mountain.
This is a mammoth book at 448 pages covering 16 chapters, interspersed with some beautiful artistic black and white photographs that capture the very essence of life in the mountains.
One aspect of this book I liked is that each chapter is broken down into various themes such as Danger, Weather, Terror, Wilderness, as well as a particular mountain that has been selected as part of the 16 then the author climbs that mountain. Anyone who has climbed any of the ‘Wainwrights’ or ‘Munros’ will salivate at this beautifully written book. Simons’ style of writing not only rich but it takes the reader along on each of his treks. That is some achievement for his debut at writing a book. What I took from each of his mountain treks was respect, for the mountain itself like me when I have climbed you become one with your surroundings and the mountain itself, you talk to it and it talks back. I felt this with all 16 mountains described in his book.
The author has very carefully selected each mountain that I found worked along with each of the chapters, mountains such as Beinn Dearg, An Teallach, Loughrigg Fell and Great Gable are covered. The more I read through this book, the more I came to the conclusion that this was not just a book about 16 mountains it becomes more of a larger theatre, as in covers so much more such as the history, science, travel, History and so on. This is a book that will over time come into its own and may even have set the agenda for writing books about mountains and especially getting out there for yourself and experiencing hill and mountain climbs. Exhilarating just like this book really.
This reviewer is now off to dig his boots out and give them an outing.
RECOMMENDED
This is a mammoth book at 448 pages covering 16 chapters, interspersed with some beautiful artistic black and white photographs that capture the very essence of life in the mountains.
One aspect of this book I liked is that each chapter is broken down into various themes such as Danger, Weather, Terror, Wilderness, as well as a particular mountain that has been selected as part of the 16 then the author climbs that mountain. Anyone who has climbed any of the ‘Wainwrights’ or ‘Munros’ will salivate at this beautifully written book. Simons’ style of writing not only rich but it takes the reader along on each of his treks. That is some achievement for his debut at writing a book. What I took from each of his mountain treks was respect, for the mountain itself like me when I have climbed you become one with your surroundings and the mountain itself, you talk to it and it talks back. I felt this with all 16 mountains described in his book.
The author has very carefully selected each mountain that I found worked along with each of the chapters, mountains such as Beinn Dearg, An Teallach, Loughrigg Fell and Great Gable are covered. The more I read through this book, the more I came to the conclusion that this was not just a book about 16 mountains it becomes more of a larger theatre, as in covers so much more such as the history, science, travel, History and so on. This is a book that will over time come into its own and may even have set the agenda for writing books about mountains and especially getting out there for yourself and experiencing hill and mountain climbs. Exhilarating just like this book really.
This reviewer is now off to dig his boots out and give them an outing.
RECOMMENDED
December 10, 2015
There's a silent majority of hillwalkers who don't read outdoor magazines, don't endlessly prowl gear shops, and who wander the hills because they're places that afford comfort, quiet and contemplation. They are politely puzzled and a little concerned by friends who go into the hills to be "challenged". And when they find themselves having an "adventure" in the hills, they usually figure it's because they've done something wrong.
If, like me, you're one of those walkers, you'll probably find Ingram's descriptions of his own hillwalking experiences a little overwrought, from time to time. He seems constantly to be having adventures - setting off late, flirting with terrible weather, being forced to change plans late in the day, and fretting about gear and water and navigation and exposed ridges. His description of An Teallach, in particular, is so full of episodes of awe and foreboding that it reads more like a trip to the Gate of Mordor than a day hike up a beautiful, stately mountain.
Fortunately, the sixteen mountains aren't actually what this book is about. They are just the narrative hooks from which Ingram hangs fascinating discursive essays on pretty much all things hill-related: mining and rock-climbing, natural history and weather, painting and poetry, history and geology. He has a great sense for a telling anecdote and a colourful character. We read (among many other things) about the Welsh potholers squeezing through into a new chamber, only to find themselves in a disused mine being used to store dynamite; the marvellously improbable nocturnal encounter between Bill Tilman and Jim Perrin in the summit shelter of Cadair Idris; Norman Collie's panic attack on Ben Macdui; the alligators on the Hebridean island of Rum; and the odd characters involved in running a weather station on Ben Nevis and a physics experiment on Schiehallion.
So, apart from intermittent twinges of worry about the sheer intensity of Ingram's relationship with some of his chosen hills, I enjoyed every page.
If, like me, you're one of those walkers, you'll probably find Ingram's descriptions of his own hillwalking experiences a little overwrought, from time to time. He seems constantly to be having adventures - setting off late, flirting with terrible weather, being forced to change plans late in the day, and fretting about gear and water and navigation and exposed ridges. His description of An Teallach, in particular, is so full of episodes of awe and foreboding that it reads more like a trip to the Gate of Mordor than a day hike up a beautiful, stately mountain.
Fortunately, the sixteen mountains aren't actually what this book is about. They are just the narrative hooks from which Ingram hangs fascinating discursive essays on pretty much all things hill-related: mining and rock-climbing, natural history and weather, painting and poetry, history and geology. He has a great sense for a telling anecdote and a colourful character. We read (among many other things) about the Welsh potholers squeezing through into a new chamber, only to find themselves in a disused mine being used to store dynamite; the marvellously improbable nocturnal encounter between Bill Tilman and Jim Perrin in the summit shelter of Cadair Idris; Norman Collie's panic attack on Ben Macdui; the alligators on the Hebridean island of Rum; and the odd characters involved in running a weather station on Ben Nevis and a physics experiment on Schiehallion.
So, apart from intermittent twinges of worry about the sheer intensity of Ingram's relationship with some of his chosen hills, I enjoyed every page.
February 9, 2017
Brilliant read. It was the little extra bits of history/ info that really added to it.
December 7, 2015
Tremendous! Over the years I have climbed all 16 of the mountains/hills featured in the individual chapters. The way in which Ingram approaches each destination allows him time to get to know the hill, and the history and folklore surrounding it. Not just a quick dash to tick of another hill on a list!
So much so that I am planning a short list of fine hills around Britain to climb, or re-climb as the case may be, in a spirit of exploration.
Thoroughly recommended.
So much so that I am planning a short list of fine hills around Britain to climb, or re-climb as the case may be, in a spirit of exploration.
Thoroughly recommended.
October 20, 2016
A wonderful tribute to Britain's mountains. Wonderfully written, humble, honest and at times beautifully poetic. At nearly 450 pages it seems daunting, but the book's thematic approach - each chapter is a different mountain and a different theme (light, life, danger) - makes it extremely enjoyable.
I live in Spain, a country blessed with incredible mountain scenery, but it's definitely time for a trip back to the hills of my homeland ... waterproof in tow!
I live in Spain, a country blessed with incredible mountain scenery, but it's definitely time for a trip back to the hills of my homeland ... waterproof in tow!
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