THE TRUTH OF THE MATTER
10 engaging memoirs to read over the summer.
ALONE in the dead of night on a deserted beach, miles from civilisation and with no mobile phone reception, Neil Ansell paces the sand. He is in too much pain to sleep. In the throes of a severe angina attack he has no choice but to wait it out. So he passes the time studying the stars.
Despite his heart condition and progressive hearing loss Neil, 58, immersed himself in Scotland’s North West Highlands for his third book’ The Last Wilderness: A Journey Into Silence.
Clearly not risk-averse, he is, by his own admission a “terrible optimist.”
It’s an approach that has paid off in the past.
As an award-winning investigative TV journalist and dad-of-two he has tracked Rwandan genocide suspects and covertly filmed the illegal trade in dog meat in the Philippines, all in the firm belief he would fare well.
His faith was again rewarded that long night on the beach.
“Everything people enjoy comes with a certain element of risk. You have to decide whether the reward is worth it,” he says.
And the highs were immeasurable.
Over of a year, Neil who’s childhood dream was of becoming a wildlife writer, made five solo walking trips, each lasting a week, into the remote Rough Bounds of Knoydart, to the districts of Moidart, Morar and Arisaig.
He notes magical encounters with wildlife and offers profound reflections on the nature itself.
“The animals are the biggest surprise,” says the Brighton-based writer.
Camped on the sands at the Rhu of Arisaig he spied pilot whales circling and recalls: “They had found a shoal of mackerel and were in a feeding frenzy. It was an extraordinary sight.”
Unlike his previous books, written about events of the past, The Last Wilderness evolved “on the hoof”.
Neil explains: “I thought that doing it that way, I would be writing a memoir where I did not know what was going to happen next.”
It is a winning technique that plunges the reader into the moment, rendering the book an experience, rather than a passive read.
And it journeys not only through landscape and its nature, but through life and loss.
Neil, whose particular hearing defect means sounds at certain frequencies suddenly vanish, reveals: “I am losing my birds one by one. As I was walking I was realising that there was another bird I would never hear again.”
“The walks made me meditate on extinction and habit loss,” he adds.
“I wondered when I saw an eagle, if it would be my last.
“A sense of mortality runs through the book but I come to terms with it.
“I realise we only see a small part of the world around us and that there is a lot of joy to be had in the things you still have.
“Focus on what you have rather than on what you have lost.”
Despite the losses, Neil is looking to the future.
“I am thinking about where I want to be in a few years’ time and what adventures I want,” he says.
Africa’s isolated Ethiopian Highlands with their unique endemic species are a major draw.
But he admits: “I am tempted by the Highlands and I might move up there when the kids leave home.”