The Old Ways

By Robert Macfarlane

Robert Macfarlane is one of those writers who makes walking feel like a philosophy. In The Old Ways, he takes us along ancient footpaths, chalk tracks, coastal routes, and even half-forgotten sea passages, using them as threads to weave stories about memory, place, and the human heart.

One of the most striking journeys he writes about is the Broomway in south Essex – a path so eerie and dangerous it's been called "Britain's deadliest." More than 100 people have lost their lives trying to cross it, and Macfarlane's description captures both the risk and the strange pull such a liminal landscape holds. That chapter alone is worth the read.

But this isn't just a book about walking. It's about the layers of meaning that words, places, and people carry. Macfarlane loves word origins, and he reminds us that in many languages, to walk and to know are linked. In Sanskrit, "path" is close to "knowing by experience"; in Old English, "weg" (way) also meant "to find out." The suggestion is simple but profound: we don't just learn by sitting still—we come to know the world by moving through it. Walking is a kind of thinking.

He also takes us to the sea. In one unforgettable passage, he describes navigating a small boat by the stars—sailing north from the Hebrides with only Polaris as a guide. It's an image both ancient and fresh: a reminder that routes are not just scratched into the ground but also traced across oceans and skies. These maritime "old ways" stretch from the Orkneys down to the Bay of Biscay, echoing with centuries of human travel.

Macfarlane doesn't romanticize paths into timeless abstractions—he shows us the labor behind them. Some old routes were literally maintained by people with sickles, cutting back hedges and brambles on either side so walkers could keep to the line. The image of sickle-bearers working the edges feels symbolic: the path as something carved, kept open, and passed on, rather than something simply "found."

The book is dense, worth reading, not in a single gulp but in thoughtful sips. Its the kind of book that makes you want to put your boots own, step onto a trail, and walk and reflect.