Chris Townsend embarks on a 700-mile walk along the spine of Scotland, the line of high ground where fallen rain runs either west to the Atlantic or east to the North Sea. Walking before the Independence Referendum of 2014, and writing after the EU Referendum of 2016, he reflects on: nature and history, conservation and rewilding, land use and literature, and change in a time of limitless potential for both better and worse.
Scotland is famous for its breath-taking scenery, the fertile lowlands, rolling hills and the much climbed Munroe's. It has been extensively written about and photographed so finding another route and a narrative that flows from this landscape cannot be easy. Chris Townsend takes an idea that he got from Ribbon Of Wildness by Peter Wright. He wants to walk the spine of his adopted land from the border at Deadland Fell right up to Duncansby Head on the North coast.
A watershed, a divide, between two worlds.
This backbone of the country that follows the line of hills that the water drops away either to the Atlantic or the North Sea is about 700 miles long. It is a tough walk too, crossing moorlands, bogs through forests and or course over the top of mountains at an average height of 450m. At certain points of the route, the line between the two directions of travel that the water goes can be less than 50m or be vast distances apart in the flatter parts of the country.
A trickle begins, running gently downhill, eventually to reach the ocean
This is the first of Townsend's books that I have read and it is not going to be the last. This thoroughly enjoyable travel book about him walking through Scotland is written at the same gentle pace that he walked at. For him, the adventure is the journey, not the finish and over his route, he has some adventures, gets soaked several times, avoids being blown off a hill, watches the sunset on a perfect evening from his tarp. He has quite a philosophical outlook, reminisces about past walks and contemplates both the independence referendum in Scotland and rues the Brexit vote. We learn about the places that he passes, touching on the history and the wildlife that he sees, but not in an overbearing way. It also has some of the best maps that I have seen in a travel book, the route is clear and unambiguous as it wiggles it'sits across the landscape.
The spine is the body’s central support structure, connecting all the other parts together. It allows us to stand upright. Indeed, we say someone has “backbone” when we mean they have strength, particularly in the face of adversity. As a seasoned long distance walker, strength in the face of adversity is something Chris Townsend knows all about, especially when the adversity is of the elemental kind; but as an Englishman who has made Scotland his home, how can he get to know his adopted country’s very heart? His answer is to walk its spine, its watershed, the ribbon of wilderness, on one side of which, waters run west, and on the other, they flow east.
What ensues is a deeply engaging adventure through Scotland’s contrasting geographical regions: the Southern Uplands, the Central Lowlands, the Highlands, and the Flow Country. Chris’s writing is so beautifully evocative, it puts us right there in the landscape, sheltering beneath his Trailstar tarp, savouring that early mountain coffee (or the disgusting excuse for it that is the only thing on offer at one remote restocking location). We share his battles with wind and rain, his exhilaration when the cloud lifts and breathtaking views stretch for miles along the spine, his joy at the diverse bird life, and his conflicting feelings about deer—magnificent, majestic creatures, who, through no fault of their own, are over-abundant and doing much environmental harm.
A passionate conservationist, Chris observes with a well-informed eye. The result is a book that is not just romantic, unquestioning nature eulogy, but a thought-provoking examination of environmental damage, some of it going back centuries; and new shoots of hope where rewilding initiatives are taking hold, promoting greater biodiversity.
It is also a book about identity. The walk takes place between the Independence referendum and Brexit referendum. So often, immersing ourselves in the outdoors is a form of meditation which allows us to get our thoughts in order and find a clarity that can be hard to come by in the hubbub of everyday life. For Chris, it is a chance to reflect on another journey—the one that led him to make his home in the Cairngorms, his own deepening relationship with his adopted country, and its ongoing relationship with the UK.
As we approach the end of the walk, Chris’s feelings are mixed: excitement at finishing is tempered with regret that what has become a way of life will soon be over. As readers, our feelings are unequivocal—we don’t want it to end.
I think we have another outdoor classic from Chris Townsend! This features some beautiful nature writing, offering a reminder of how lucky we are to have Scotland's access laws, how important conservation efforts are, and how wonderful it is to spend time in the great outdoors.
An enjoyable, fascinating and thought-provoking read by an author who truly knows his subject.
I love going for long walks – especially walks that last for weeks or months and follow routes few others have followed. It’s something I’ve done a fair amount of. But when I can’t go myself I love reading about such walks, especially when they are described with the passion, honesty and insight that Chris Townsend brings to this book, 'Along the Divide'.
Chris Townsend has dedicated most of his life to long, immersive walks in wild places. He has authored over thirty books on the subject, many of them narrative accounts like this one. Since his first big walk in 1976 he has spent an unimaginable amount of time travelling alone though an impressive array of wild locations – from deserts to forests to high mountains to the Arctic – and has built up a level of knowledge, experience, and appreciation of nature and wilderness travel that very few people can match. It is said that someone has to put in 10,000 hours to become an expert or even a master of any specific discipline. Well, by that reckoning Chris Townsend must be a master of wilderness travel and wilderness travel-writing many times over.
Which, as 'Along the Divide' demonstrates from its very first page, he very clearly is.
'Along the Divide' chronicles a 700-mile, 1,000-km walk along Scotland’s watershed that was undertaken in 2015. Heading south to north, Chris followed the divide that separates waters draining to the Atlantic from waters flowing to the North Sea. There was no guide book for this walk, no official trail, and often no trail at all. This walk was most definitely a journey off the beaten path, and extremely interesting because of it. There are (arguably) too many books now about walks along famous well-established trails. But there are far fewer about unique journeys like this one. This alone makes this book different and worth reading.
Partly inspired by Peter Wright’s book, 'A Ribbon of Wildness', Chris Townsend set out to walk the Scottish watershed in one continuous journey. As described early in the book, and fleshed out articulately throughout, the reasons for undertaking this journey were many. One reason is that Chris loves to walk 'to see places properly, to see details and subtlety missed at faster speeds.’ He loves long-distance walking the most ‘because there is time to immerse myself into nature and wild places, time to really feel a part of a place.’ But as well as the natural history, Chris was also walking to learn the human history. And he was walking to explore and highlight the state of Scotland’s wild places, many of them under serious threat. And he was also walking to get to know his home of several decades, Scotland, in a deeper way – a reason made even more meaningful because the journey took place during a pivotal time in Scotland’s own quest for identity.
This diverse range of reasons adds a depth to the book that is so often lacking in other hiking narratives, just as the diverse landscapes encountered throughout the journey add richness to the journey itself. Weaving all this together would be a challenge for many authors – the tale could have become unwieldy and confusing. But Chris manages it with a deftness of touch that keeps the story flowing. Readers get to experience the passing miles, the places, the human encounters, the ups and downs, the weather good and foul, and the inner musings in a way that make them easy to digest, easy to follow, and deeply engaging. It’s easy to feel you are right there, walking along with the author.
Chris’ writing is wonderfully understated, lacking the over-the-top hyperbole that makes some outdoor books so hard to enjoy. There is no ego present in this book, not one ‘look at how amazing I am’ moment. (For what it’s worth, Chris IS amazing, although you have to read far between the lines to see it. Chris may not even see it himself!) Instead of the adrenaline-fueled prose that can be found in many adventure-travel narratives, or the flowery over-descriptive prose in some nature writing, 'Along the Divide' delivers well-crafted passages in an almost matter-of-fact way that pull readers in, gentle passages that offer rewards and insights if you pause every so often to carefully consider what you have just read.
This book could be consumed swiftly and easily for entertainment alone, and it would be a quick and enjoyable read. But it also rewards a slower and more thoughtful approach – which is poetically appropriate, given that wild places also reward a slow and thoughtful approach. This is a book by a wilderness connoisseur who has spent decades thinking about his subject and has a great deal of value to say about it. Approached without pre-expectations, this book won’t just be a good read; it will get you thinking too.
One of the greatest aspects of 'Along the Divide' is the breadth of subjects it covers. It doesn’t restrict itself to only the land underfoot but also looks to the horizon, and often far beyond it, to politics even. Lesser walking books limit themselves to events that only occur on the trail, as though a trail or a mountain range exist in some kind of vacuum, as though the outside world has no impact upon them. But this isn’t the real world, as most reasonable people know. Towards the end of this book Chris Townsend writes: ‘Escaping politics may seem a reason to go for a long walk, and I certainly didn’t think about such matters much of the time. But if we want wild places, a healthy environment, increased biodiversity and a world worth living in, politics can’t be ignored. Those decisions made in parliaments far away in big cities can have a profound effect in nature. Campaigning so the voices of those who love wild places and the natural world are heard is essential’.
Chris Townsend clearly loves wild places. His love of the wild, his passion, empathy and joy for it, and his deep knowledge, shine from every page of this book. You don’t have to know Scotland to appreciate 'Along the Divide', or be a hiker to enjoy it. This is a book for anyone and everyone who loves nature and the outdoors, and who wants to share a remarkable journey though the hills with a knowledgeable and friendly companion.
As stated earlier, I have a passion for long walks myself, and this book made me want to be back on one, and especially this specific one! I have read a great many walking narratives over the past 35 years. (Too many, probably!) But 'Along the Divide' stands out. It is highly recommended.
An evocative and thought provoking book which explores the lesser-trodden wilds of Scotland’s watershed. Chris captures Scotland’s natural history, considers the impact of humanity on the flora and fauna, and highlights the importance of correct strategies for conservation, rewilding and land management. This book makes the reader feel immersed in nature, both physically and mentally. A brilliant read (especially at a time when such wild places are inaccessible to people).
Points for enthusiasm, but there are some issues here. Large chunks of the watershed were bypassed because of poor weather, so this is not so much an account of meeting a challenge head on as using the watershed as a very rough guide for a walk through Scotland. Secondly, reminiscences familar to me from having read one other book by the author are preferred to the provision of rich detail. This is all very half-arsed. I suggest reading Dave Hewitt's account instead.