John Wyatt was brought up in an industrial town, and started working in town as a newspaperman. He decided town life was not for him, and took a job as an apprentice forest worker in the Lake District; he ended up as Head Warden for the Lake District National Park.
This book is about his days as a forestry worker. This is not about the Lake District of summer holidays - well, it is, but it is about all seasons, about beer and pie in the pub, about getting bogged down in swamps, about living rough in a self-built shelter; it is about the scent of different woods in the fire, about the taste of hawthorn buds, and about his ideas of true solitude.
I first read this book twenty-five years ago, and re-read it every few years. It always gives me pleasure, and ideas to think about, as well as itchy feet.
I recommend it highly to everyone who loves the wind in their hair, the scent of the forest, and a view of infinity!