Unlost: A journey of self-discovery and the healing power of the wild outdoors
MOST HILLWALKERS hate being lost. Some of my worst mountain moments have transpired after one tiny turn in a trail went unnoticed. There’s nothing that makes you feel more humbled, more overwhelmed, or more incompetent than getting lost atop the awe-inspiring mass of a mountain. But it happens to us all, doesn’t it?
As I read Unlost: A journey of selfdiscovery and the healing power of the wild outdoors by Gail Muller it became clear that, whilst it’s a commonly held experience, no hiker ever really shakes the fear of being lost.
This delightfully relatable memoir documents Gail’s own anxiety-inducing experiences on the Appalachian Trail (AT). But it’s really for those of us who enjoy getting lost in a good book whilst remaining firmly unlost in an armchair, giggling at mishaps or shedding a tear over nature and its ability as a great human equaliser.
You might think the Appalachian Trail is not for you. By association, you might think this book is not for you. But, as Gail writes in her afterword, “I wanted my book to be the story I was looking for when I was lost and needed hope, a tale of tenacity, of grit against the odds, and of a gamble that paid off.”
Indeed, Gail’s thoughtful, compassionate and funny voice opens up the possibility of a 2220-mile trail on the other side of the world to a reader who otherwise might not consider it on their path. Kindly, at the trailhead of her book, the author offers a hiker’s glossary.
From Aqua Blaze through to Yellow Blaze, she helpfully explains the terminology of the trail so that you can flow right on through the journey without dictionary pit stops. Well, Gail had me at Appalachian, and quickly made the pages of this book feel safe, cosy, and non-judgemental, despite the extremes that were to come.
From adulthood, Gail was told she would be in a wheelchair before she hit 40. She hiked the AT at 41. As she narrates the miles of treacherous slog, she tackles aspects of her life that she is walking away from. We join her as she delves into her chronic pain, her survival of rape, and her relationship with her body and mind.
Gail’s story is a moving tale of why a better understanding of invisible illness is required, and how shame holds the majority of us back, whatever emotional mountain we may be climbing. She also shines a light on the experiences of women on the trail and the constant tension between fear and the desire to be seen as equal in an ungendered outdoor space. With charming and insightful candour, Gail digs deep, as though with each word she was taking another step towards her self-discovery.
One of Gail’s inspirations, Bill Bryson, penned A Walk in the Woods: Rediscovering America on the Appalachian Trail in 1998.
I will always cherish that account but I’m grateful, too, for this new perspective.
Meanwhile, there is a comparison beyond geography to be drawn between the two books, as Gail coveys a great sense of humour in getting Unlost.
Hers is a delightfully British perspective on an American trail, tinged with selfdeprecating sarcasm. Gail does not edit out the embarrassing, amusing, painful and petty thoughts many of us succumb to on the hills: the past, our failings, funny quips to share on social media when you get WiFi, pain – both physical and emotional – and too many hiking stereotypes to name. The author shares her weaknesses, and, with that, proves not just her strength of character, but also her strength in storytelling.
Just like the trail, Unlost has a hopeful beginning, a profound ending and pain is a common thread throughout. But lessons are learned, mistakes are survived, and the magic is found somewhere in the middle, just when you think the protagonist is well and truly lost. Francesca Donovan