Many travel books are about the quest for new, exotic places and the widest possible range of experiences; many nature books focus on the surprising quality and variety of life to be found by staying close to home. In that loose framework, Neil Ansell’s The Last Wilderness belongs on the nature shelf rather than the travel section: here he’s all about developing his knowledge of a particular place, the Northwest Highlands of Scotland, where he stays five times over the course of one year to give a panoramic view of the area in different non-touristy seasons.

Ansell’s visits have the flavor of a pilgrimage: his wonder at the region’s sights and sounds, and particularly at the creatures he encounters, is akin to what one would experience in the presence of the holy; he also writes about wildlife as if it is a relic of a fast-vanishing world. “It is that exploratory desire to possess the wilds for ourselves that has resulted in their disappearance,” he notes. A true wilderness is unvisited, and true solitude is hard to experience “if the world is only a click away.”

Depicted against this backdrop of environmental damage are the author’s personal losses: a heart problem and progressive hearing loss mean that the world is narrowing in for him. He mourns each sign of diminishment, such as the meadow pipits whose call he can no longer hear. Depth of experience is replacing breadth for him, though flashbacks to his intrepid world travels – an African safari, hitchhiking in Australia, time in Sweden and Costa Rica – show that he has tried both approaches. There’s a good balance here between adventuring and the comfort of an increasingly familiar place.

Like “a tale told round a campfire,” Ansell’s is a meandering and slightly melancholy story that draws you in. If The Last Wilderness suffers, it’s mostly in comparison with his Deep Country (2011), one of the most memorable nature/travel books I’ve ever read, a modern-day Walden about his five years living in a cottage in the Welsh hills. Solitude and survival are more powerful themes there, though they echo here too. Once again, he writes of magical encounters with wildlife and gives philosophical reflections on the nature of the self. I can highly recommend Neil Ansell’s books to anyone who enjoys nature and travel writing.

Neil Ansell like 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.

Warning! Those of a non pedantic disposition should not read my review!

I’ll start with all the positives about this book. As an enthusiastic walker (although I’m currently very limited due to temporary health issues), I thoroughly enjoyed wandering the Rough Bounds of NW Scotland in Neil Ansell’s company. I can find nature writing boring at times but I’m not sure I would really classify this book as such. He’s clearly knowledgeable about birds, animals, plants and trees but he rarely goes beyond describing what he’s seeing as a backdrop to his walks. I was happy with that.

The title ‘A Journey into Silence’ is a wry comment on his loss of hearing which is steadily worsening. For someone who loves nature to be gradually losing the ability to hear birdsong is a tragedy. Also, he has other health problems that are making the physical demands of walks such as these less likely in the future. Ansell ruminates on these problems occasionally but not to the point of becoming maudlin.

So what are my problems with the book? Firstly, and I know this is extremely pedantic, but having said that he can hear very little now, he tells us on more than one occasion that <i>‘there was no sound at all’</i> or <i>‘there was a complete silence’</i>. Well, was there? Or was it that he could hear nothing? In my experience, nature is rarely, if ever, silent.

Secondly, there were inconsistencies in his text. On a walk to a bothy, he reflected on what he might do if it was already full as he <i>‘had failed to pack a tent’</i>. Four pages later, on finding the bothy already occupied, he sets off <i>’to find a beach to pitch my tent on’</i>.

It was usually possible to track his walks on an OS map so I know that his description of looking down on a loch around which there was no trail is just wrong. I checked with walking websites and the route along the north side of the loch - his side - is a clear and popular track. Yes, I know I’m being pedantic but accuracy matters to me.

Thirdly, those with little experience of walking in wilderness areas are unlikely to follow in his footsteps but sadly some will and every year the rescue services are called in to search for idiots who have set off with little preparation and less of a clue. In the same way as a disclaimer was issued at the end of every episode of Julia Bradbury’s enjoyable Wainwright Walks tv series, so should this book carry one. Ansell frequently gets lost and relies only on his sense of direction and the hope that he will see a hill or loch that he recognises to set him back on the correct path. I find that completely irresponsible and frankly idiotic. He also drinks directly from mountain streams and lochs without first purifying the water. Dead sheep juice anyone?

Lastly, Ansell is very well travelled having spent much of his life wandering around the world backpacking. I’m sure a book on these travels would be a really interesting read but I found his anecdotes intrusive in this book. One minute I was walking in the wilds of the Highlands, the next he had me in Sweden, or Australia, or South America, or Africa. These interruptions often jarred and it was then that this mixture of outdoors/nature writing combined with autobiographical musings just didn’t work for me. There’s rather a tongue in cheek quote towards the end of the book when he shows some insight by saying, <i>’It reminded me of a long time ago. Of course it does, you say, everything reminds him of something else.’</i> I have no argument with that statement!

And breathe...........

Overall, I really did enjoy this book for the reasons given at the start of my review. Ansell raises thoughtful questions about solitude. Is it only a pleasure when we know we have someone to return to? Would it be such a pleasure if we didn’t? For me personally, the answer to that question is easy. Definitely 4 stars and recommended if you love NW Scotland or would like to learn more about it.

With thanks to NetGalley and Tinder Press for a review copy.