You Are Here, David Nicholls

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Driven and successful Cleo is determined to help her divorced friends out of their shells and back into the world of fun with friends. Michael, a geography teacher at the school she leads, is struggling with his mental health, and very much prefers his own company. Repeatedly rejecting her offers of company on hikes, he eventually relents and agrees to a group joining him for the first few days of the 190 mile Coast to Coast walk he is about to embark upon. Marnie, living alone in London, and being a freelance copyeditor, has very little opportunity or inclination to spend time with others, always hoping for a cancellation to come through for any plans she’s reluctantly agreed to. She’s not a walker but agrees when Cleo invites her for the walk, thinking it might be just what she needs. Arriving in all new waterproofs and walking boots, she appears the inexperienced hiker Michael had suspected would be joining him (although he certainly doesn’t make the route any shorter or easier to allow for this). Cleo invites a London pharmacist along who she thinks would suit Marnie well, and triathlete Tessa for Michael. When Tessa doesn’t show and Conrad scurries back to London at the first signs of rain, their focus is forced on each other. What follows is a gentle opening up, companionship in long distance walking, and a few geographical tidbits thrown in for good measure.

The opening chapter introduces us to Marnie, and the descriptions of how her world has shrunk with age and the isolation which is inherent in remote working are painfully relatable. At thirty eight she feels left behind by her friends who are happily married and distracted with raising a family. Even when she is invited to events, on the rare occasions she goes, she is aware of the awkwardness of being the divorcee of the group, and the quiet matchmaking that her friends inflict on her. As the book progresses we get an insight into her own unhappy marriage, and although she often presents it with a hint of humour it’s clear it has left deep wounds. Despite feeling too old to start again she embraces the opportunity of the walking holiday, feigning interest in Conrad’s Formula One obsession, persevering when the weather makes the walk more than unpleasant, and generally flitting around lightening the mood.

Michael’s marriage feels like a very different beast. Him and Natasha tried for a long time to get pregnant but this took its toll, and when a brutal attack left him physically and mentally scarred it pushed them too far and they separated. It feels like there’s still a lot of love between them and a genuine desire for the other to be happy. He continues to live in their marital home, some of her possessions still there, living what feels like a half life. He spends as much time out walking as possible, in part to escape a home that no longer feels like one. He is full of anxiety and struggles to talk about what’s led him to this point. When he does make an effort it is sweet and you hope that things will work out. Will the walk show him that nature will only go so far in healing, sharing it with another might just be the key. But is he ready to let go of the hope of reconciliation with Natasha?

Conrad may be a decoy for Marnie to begin with, but it’s clear to the reader that the potential romance will be with Michael. At the outset he hopes to continue the walk as if he were on his own, walking ahead of the rest of the group, but as numbers dwindle this becomes increasingly difficult. Marnie spends most of some of the days swearing at the mud and at him for lying to her about the challenges ahead, but he gradually learns to enjoy the company, and as her departure date approaches they’re both reluctant to bring the walk to an end. She teases him gently about his love of geography and finding what others see as quite boring to be of great interest. He listens to her open up with genuine interest and care.

The walk and landscape itself is central to the novel. The peace and companionship of walking with another, whether or not you’re talking, is well drawn, and the misery of being stuck miles from anywhere in wind and rain will be familiar to any keen hikers. Each accommodation is well described, with an ongoing joke about the wifi passwords, and it really brings to life the cosy pubs, the stodgy food, and attempts to keep your clothes dry before putting them on again the next day. This is not an idealised version of the English countryside but does highlight the camaraderie of long-distance walking and the friends you make along the way. 

A lovely, easy read which will put a smile on your face. The characters are believable, and although slightly frustrating at times, their backstories are shared enough that you understand what’s made them the way they are. A gentle love story that isn’t without its upsets, you long for them to find comfort in each other. 

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Walking the West Highland Way, Part Three - Inveroran to Fort William

 A new day dawned, and after a beautiful, delicious breakfast, we were ready to leave Inveroran and head across Rannoch Moor, one of Europe’s largest remaining wildernesses. From descriptions I’d read and anecdotes I'd heard, it sounded like a bleak place where you could easily end up wading through bog. I didn’t find it desolate, and with a clearly defined path and dry weather didn’t stumble into any bogs by accident. There were even hillocks on which to stop for a snack. We were traversing it in relatively fine weather, I imagine it would be a different experience in the pelting rain. As with many sections of the Way there wasn’t much in the way of shelter. 

Leaving Rannoch Moor behind

On a clear day you can see quite some distance with mountains receding from view behind you, and new panoramas appearing ahead. The day starts with a steady incline before flattening out and gently descending before a further climb which gives your first views of Glen Coe and the iconic Buachaille Etive Mòr, menacingly standing guard. From above you can see the road that runs through the valley, and it was here that I realised how noisy motorbikes are, their roars reaching us from quite a distance across which sounds from the rest of the traffic did not pass.

Buachaille Etive Mòr and some of the local wildlife

It was our shortest day on the Way, arriving in time to lunch at the on-site pub at Kingshouse while we waited for our beds in the bunkhouse to be ready. The location of the hotel is undoubtedly stunning and you’re likely to encounter deer in the immediate surrounds. We were also treated to a colourful sunset which made Buachaille Etive Mòr appear as an erupting volcano.

Glorious sunshine to bid farewell to Glen Coe

The next day began with a disappointing breakfast but improved exponentially as the walk continued with some of the best panoramas of the trip. We were fortunate to have beautiful sunshine for this leg, one of my favourites. Leaving Kingshouse behind, you follow the valley floor to begin with. The road is visible (and audible at times) but I didn’t find it as oppressive as some guidebooks suggest. Regardless, the incredible views more than make up for having to share them with vehicles. You get a real sense of the scale of the mountains as you walk toward the base of the Devil’s Staircase, a busier section of the Way due to its popularity as a stand-alone walk.

On our way up the Devil's Staircase

There seems to be some disagreement of exactly when the name dates from but it seems to derive either from the numbers who lost their lives climbing it in inclement weather before the construction of the modern road, or in the dislike felt by many who had to carry building equipment up and down. Either way, it’s not as bad climbing it today, at least not in good weather during daylight hours. It is steep and you’ll likely need to stop to catch your breath, but the main difficulty was in the loose rocks slipping underfoot. Walking poles were helpful once again in staying upright. I’m not sure I’d fancy doing the route in reverse here.

Mountains as far as the eye can see

Reaching the summit you are rewarded with breathtaking views on all sides, and your first glimpse of Ben Nevis, reminding you how far you still have to go. Much of the remainder of the day’s walk stays at height, and seemed very popular with mountain bikers. I think we had one of the best lunch break spots this day, sitting on the side of the mountain, enjoying the views across the valley.

The descent in to Kinlochleven

The descent into Kinlochleven felt long and can be a bit hard on the knees, especially if they’re already feeling the strain, but it is a pleasant walk surrounded by trees. The village itself is very pretty with River Leven running through it.  We were lucky to be staying right next to the river with views of the mountains rising up behind it.

The view from the day's first ascent

The final day on the trail was a long one and we set off early, with slightly heavy hearts knowing it was almost over. After a short walk along the road you turn into a wooded area and follow a rocky path upward. Passing small waterfalls and streams, it’s a beautiful but brutal start to the day as you climb steeply out of the valley. There are glimpses of the view as you go but it is when you reach the top that it really opens up, and quite a view it is whether looking back over Kinlochleven or ahead along the length of the loch.

Miles of path ahead

Mercifully there’s no more intense ascents for a while and you enjoy an undulating route through the hills. It’s quite an open sections with streams frequently crossing the path. Sheep and ruined, abandoned farmhouses dot the route, giving a sense of the history of the place. The openness of the landscape means you can see the path snaking off into the distance more than most other sections of the Way.

The re-appearance of trees

After a couple of hours you reach a shift in the landscape, clumps of trees around but not crowding the view. Some splashes of colour appear in the form of purple and yellow flowers, and small bodies of water can be seen in the distance. It’s a very pleasant landscape to be walking through. At one point there is the option to leave the Way and take a shorter route along the road to Fort William. You would miss out on some stunning views by taking it.

The path continues with quite a few more inclines between you and the finish line. It was a sunny, relatively hot day when we did it and there had been very little shade to speak of. The trees offer occasional shelter but for the most part it’s quite an exposed section.

Approaching Ben Nevis from the south

Views of Ben Nevis and neighbouring mountains appear from the flower-lined path making for a pleasant backdrop, albeit one that makes you realise you’ve still got several hours of walking ahead of you. One final push uphill and you can see the town of Fort William in the distance. A wide gravel road takes you on a winding route down to the valley floor. 

Views toward the finish line

It having been a hot day, and one with no facilities en route, we’d been looking forward to reaching the Glen Nevis visitor centre in the hopes of finding a cold drink. Alas, thanks to a break by a stream on the descent we arrived shortly after 4pm and found it closed, the external toilet block locked. 

The remainder of the route follows the road into the town, and although we took detours to stay in the trees as much as possible there’s no denying it’s an anti-climactic end to an absolutely stunning walk. Arriving at the finish line having walked the length of the high street feels strange, surrounded by shoppers going about their day.

Final waymarkers

Despite the underwhelming final miles, the preceding 94 more than made up for it. It was an incredibly special experience spending my days walking side by side with my husband, sharing spectacular, ever-changing views. There were a few fellow walkers we’d seen regularly throughout who we were sad not to bump into on the final day, but hope they made it to the finish line. Before heading back to the daily grind we spent some time exploring Scotland’s cities, an adjustment to being surrounded by people and buildings once more. It felt strange no longer measuring our days in hours of walking, and worse still, when back at work, spending our days staring at screens away from each other. Talking to locals made it clear that life in the highlands is not easy, but the experience certainly opened our eyes to different ways of life, and showed us the benefits of living a slower life, more connected to nature. Now just to work out how to incorporate those lessons into daily life.

West Highland Way complete

The Salt Path, Raynor Winn

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Edit: In July 2025 The Observer published an investigation into the claims made in this book regarding how the couple lost their home.The text of the below review remains in its original form, as published in 2023, before these allegations came to light.

Raynor Winn and her husband Moth’s lives fall apart when they lose a legal battle due to a technicality in submitting evidence, losing them their home. They receive another huge blow when Moth is diagnosed with an incurable degenerative disease, all within a matter of days. When the bailiffs come to their home a walking book provides the inspiration they need to keep moving forward. They soon find themselves on the South West Coast Path, walking from Minehead to Land’s End, and after that who knows? It’s a dramatic, emotional start to a book that will shine a light on people’s misconceptions of those who become homeless.

Ray naturally struggles to accept the imminent loss of her life partner, and it takes most of the 630 mile walk for them to be able to openly speak the words. Their two children, young adults living their lives in shared houses, seem to have made their peace with it, but we see events through Ray’s eyes and so this doesn’t become clear until she’s able to face it. The weight of their loss haunts them, but she acknowledges how it impacts their children, the loss of security of having a home to go back to if they need it. Unable to offer their parents somewhere to stay, they look on from afar, occasional calls keeping them in touch. They might struggle to understand what their parents are embarking upon, but they support them.

It might seem like a strange idea, to be advised by a doctor not to over-exert yourself, to take it carefully on stairs, to decide to walk a punishing route, wild camping and barely eating on their £30 a week. And yet, Moth becomes healthier than he has been in a long time, the pain in his shoulder ever present but not stopping him. He loses weight and becomes more muscular as they carry heavy packs over steep cliffs and through dense woodland. Ray doesn’t shy away from the fact it is difficult. Paddy Dillon’s book, their guide, underplays the intensity of the path, he races ahead of them as they slowly wend their way along the coast. They live mostly off noodles, rice, and tuna, learning to take pleasure in watching others eat food that is far out of their reach. 

There’s plenty of humour to be found too. Their long-running saga of people mistaking Moth for Simon Armitage, a name they’re not familiar with, leads them into some strange scenarios, including Moth receiving a massage from a local business owner’s assistant. They come to assign categories to other walkers they encounter, many of whom are so focussed on racing across as many miles as possible that they miss out on so much of the value of doing it. They meet a range of characters along the way, from those who are friendly until they mention their situation to familiar faces they see again and again, and an unfortunate amount of early dog walkers who always seem to appear at the worst possible moment. They are repeatedly told how old they are, and how lucky to have the luxury of time, the freedom to keep walking until they choose to stop rather than having to rush back to jobs. The reality is that the end point is scary because after it they don’t know what happens.

As time passes they notice that they are far more comfortable in the more remote areas of the path, being around a lot of people puts them on edge. A mix-up with a ferry means they have to sleep in a town one night and it leaves them shaken and wondering how people do it night after night. Despite having next to nothing themselves, whenever they can help others they do, sharing their meagre rations of food. They’re also met with much kindness, from others living without homes and also those living in more comfort. Many make a quick exit when they realise they’re not walking for fun with a home waiting for them at the end, but others are interested in their story, want to help. Ray is very conscious of the fact their lack of access to washing facilities means they smell, her hair becomes knotted, and they are both extremely sunburnt. Some judge them and try to keep them away but their experience is a reminder to us all not to judge those less fortunate than ourselves, to offer kindness rather than hate. This is ultimately a hopeful book, you go in expecting it as the very existence of the book suggests a turn in fortune at some point, but there are many more stories that we will never hear, of people who are never given a chance.

Throughout it all is Ray and Moth, having shared three decades of life they are a solid pair, and seem to get on remarkably well for people spending all day every day together for months on end in such difficult circumstances. Their love is strong, and although there is no miracle cure for Moth, they make the most of the time they have together, making memories and basking in each other’s company. It reminds us of what is really important in life, to never take time with our loved ones for granted. At times a deeply moving book, it definitely had me tearing up, but it is interesting and humorous, and full of love, for this land, and for each other.

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