Writings

Hot off the press!

My new book of paintings and writings – ‘A Walk in the Wild’ is available now.

My new book, ‘A Walk in the Wild’ describes my journeys, through writings and paintings, into meetings with the wild, savage and beautiful heart of the wilderness.

As a mountaineer and wilderness canoeist, my walks in the wild create these meetings. In the book I join my paintings with the writings that the wild places generate; they are both about beauty, fun, risk, adventure, wild energy and meanings. My stories also include gentler ‘internal’ journeys and meetings on the journey of life.

£15 + £2 P&P. Please phone 01539 721362 or contact me here to buy a copy.

As well as painting, my journeys inspire me to write poems, stories and reflections about my adventures.

I love to share my passion for my experiences, so I frequently appear at story telling evenings and am available for illustrated talks to groups by arrangement. I have been known to reduce an audience to tears and laughter.

Here are a few snippets from my writings to hopefully whet your appetite . . .

From 'A Winter Journey'

Snow flakes slow falling, sliding caressingly down, dimpling the still waiting water with their touching softness. Gentle blurring of senses. No sound, just slow motion sight and the pushing prows of the canoes. Paddle blades moving the heavy water with silent splashes. We turn under the heavy dam wall and back up the lake. Dinkey car specks on the main road buzz blindly by, driven onwards up and down Dunmail Raise, naked spruce trees unable to hide their intrusion.

From 'Creatures Calling our Names'

Two of us walk along the outfall river from the tarn in Dovedale. There, a solitary white swan swims alone in the big world of Brother’s Water and dwarfing ancient mountains. It senses us walking by, disturbing the peace of the other world, rippling its calm surface. So it arches its wings halo-like above its back in the beautiful heart shape of a creature in love with its destiny. Then, invisibly powered, moves in awesome majesty away over the water. Does it know it is alone with no mate, and so reaches out to us? A white visitation, calling, calling.

From 'Escape from Stac Pollaidh'

No one knows I am here . . . I have no phone signal . . . there is no help coming; dark, red Stac Pollaidh hovers, waiting… fear and horror surge through me. I wade in up to my waist and wrestle the canoe to the top of the final 2m drop and push it over. Now in the bottom loch I have to drain the canoe but the bailer has been washed away. I drag the canoe to shallow water … hypothermia begins to creep into my body. . . I’m cold. . . shivering.