In 1772, Thomas Pennant set out to explore the last remaining blank on the map of the British Isles, a place he described as ‘desolation itself’. At the time, more was known about America’s east coast than about the Hebrides. Pennant aimed to change that, by charting the landscape and recording its geology and botany. But while he set out with the curiosity of a natural historian, he returned with the heavy heart of a humanitarian. In this Great British Journey, Nick Crane tries to find out why. Can he rediscover the finds Pennant made? What happened to the thousands who lived here in Pennant’s time? And why did Pennant suddenly abandon his journey, for a mad, wet and bog-ridden hike to a mysterious Scottish island? Who was Thomas Pennant? Originally from Wales, Pennant was 45, approaching 46, when he embarked on his journey in 1772. Independently wealthy, he could afford to fund his travels himself. While Pennant undertook several journeys, none were as successful or as important as this. Pennant felt his journey would better mankind. Science benefited from his detailed descriptions of the islands and their geology. And by writing about the inhabitants’ appalling poverty, he said he’d triggered improvements such as new fisheries and towns. He was a rare combination – pioneering scientist, visionary reformer and, perhaps above all, brave explorer.
In Observations on the River Wye (1770), William Gilpin drew, painted and discussed one of the most beautiful rivers in Great Britain. He did so in order to formulate his theories on landscape, the picturesque and the nature of God. In seeking out nature and views, Gilpin was actually the first to popularise a pastime we assume is timeless. A country clergyman, he became the genius of British sightseeing, and his journey an important milestone in British tourism. In a sense, William Gilpin’s trip down the River Wye – largely conducted on a boat in pouring rain – was about helping us to see this country in a new light. In retracing it, Nick Crane sets out to discover why Gilpin made such trips so popular. How was the River Wye affected by the changes that were around in Gilpin’s day? And has Gilpin’s quest for the picturesque corrupted our view of landscape? Who was William Gilpin? The Reverend William Gilpin (1724-1804) was a man of many parts: headmaster, vicar, artist and writer. He was a free-thinker who suited his time; an era of calm before the French and American revolutions. Having been born in the Lake District, a love of landscape was in Gilpin’s blood. To it, he brought a complex mix of tolerant, enlightened thinking and a firm love of rules. He wanted people to enjoy the River Wye according to his rules of picturesque beauty. But Gilpin’s rules weren’t just about improving painting skills. He wanted us to admire the works of God, for he saw nature as proof of God’s existence. His views were popular, though later became regarded as somewhat quaint. But they linger on. For in training a nation to revere its landscape, he provided a means for us to value the most beautiful parts of the countryside. And his rules are still in evidence: in postcards, paintings, planning departments and our imagination. The picturesque could never tell the whole story of the landscape, but in identifying its most pleasing features, Gilpin to
Between 1697 and 1698, Celia Fiennes (1662-1741) visited every English county, plus brief forays into Wales and Scotland. She believed spending time in Britain “cured the itch of overvaluing foreign parts”. Touring the country was her lifelong obsession, and she did so on horseback – side-saddle, accompanied by two servants. At the time, England was bursting with ideas and innovation. In trade, agriculture and science, it was an age of great possibility. Celia wanted to experience it all. In particular, she wanted to see if these developments reached throughout the land, including the wild north. In this Great British Journey, Nick Crane sets out to see if Celia found the answers she was after. What does her journey tell us about Britain then and now? And to what extent was she the 17th century equivalent of a modern woman? Who was Celia Fiennes? Born in 1662, Celia was a noblewoman and daughter of a colonel. Unmarried and childless, travel was her passion. She saw it as improving her mind and restoring her health. She lived at same time as Daniel Defoe, and her journey anticipates the ‘economic tourism’ he established. With no formal education, Celia’s writing is often ungrammatical and rambling. But it’s spontaneous and passionate, and free of the era’s masculine pretensions. As a woman, and an amateur writer, Celia’s chances of publication were slim, and she probably wrote more for her family than a wider audience. Indeed it was 150 years after her death before Through England on a Side Saddle was first published (1888). However it stands as an inspiration to travel around Britain, particularly for women. Celia Fiennes showed that exploring one’s own country could be just as rewarding and challenging as being tempted overseas.
William Cobbett’s Rural Rides (1821-6) criss-crossed the southern counties – Surrey, Hampshire, Wiltshire. Appropriately they began at the highest point in south east England: Leith Hill, from where a rolling panorama unfolds in every direction. At the time, England was in flux. The Napoleonic Wars were over, but returning soldiers found the countryside no longer had jobs for them. Cobbett was convinced this was endemic of a nation tearing its own heart out – that heart being agriculture. In this journey, Nick tries to find out if Cobbett was right or wrong. Were the advances in agriculture destroying 'old England', or was Cobbett just a traditionalist railing against progess? Is anything left of Cobbett’s countryside – and why did his journey nearly land him in prison? Who was William Cobbett? Born in Surrey in 1763, Cobbett spent nearly 20 years overseas with the army, in newly-independent America and revolutionary France. Returning in 1800, he became convinced the agricultural England he’d loved was being destroyed. His campaigning grew, until, aged nearly 60, he began his rural rides to prove his case. These confirmed Cobbett as one of the Industrial Revolution’s most committed agitators. A radical, adventurer and sharp-tongued political journalist, he wrote 30 million words during his career and gave the depressed countryside a voice. More than anything, Cobbett understood the countryside thrives when tended by local people. And that – in a lesson still relevant today – it has a delicate balance we interfere with at our peril.
Gerald’s account covers a seven week journey in March and April 1188. From Hereford, Gerald covered over 500 miles. His route ranged from southern Wales, an area he knew, to the wilder north. Along the way he tackled some of Wales’ steepest mountains and most treacherous rivers. His trip bequeathed not only the first book ever to be wholly devoted to Wales, but also the most vivid portrait of a British medieval journey ever written. Gerald made this journey because he and Baldwin, the Archbishop of Canterbury, were under orders from the King to enlist men for the Third Crusade. Nick sets out to uncover how successful their appeal was. Did their journey work out as planned? And what was it like to travel around Wales 800 years ago, compared to now? Who was Gerald of Wales? Gerald de Barri was the son of a Norman knight, and actually only a quarter Welsh. In 1188, Gerald was in his 40s, archdeacon of Brecon and a royal official. Despite the historical gap, we know plenty about him. He was tall, energetic and an excellent horseman. Apparently he even had shaggy eyebrows! Arguably Gerald is Britain’s first travel writer. Although he wrote by hand in Latin, he shows qualities we appreciate today. An excellent storyteller, historian and naturalist, he writes with style and flair, keeping his readers interested. He also creates a mental map of Wales, vital in an age before cartography was commonplace. Gerald never made it to the Holy Land, instead he dedicated his life to writing. By his death in 1223 he’d produced 17 books, a staggering achievement for his era. In fact, because of those books we know more about him than almost any other person living at the time.
In the early years of the 18th century, Daniel Defoe travelled around the whole British Isles. As a spy, merchant and journalist, he knew the country better than most. He’d even travelled around it on the run from the law. He wrote his Tour Through the Whole Island of Great Britain to inspire his fellow countrymen and women. He saw this island as a land of opportunity, rather than the island of difficulties he created in Robinson Crusoe. Nick follows the first of Defoe’s 17 trips: from London through the mud and marshes of Essex, the storm-battered coast of Suffolk and the commercial heartland of Norfolk. In doing so, Nick tries to uncover why Defoe started with East Anglia. Why was it so important in his day? And what happened to it afterwards? Who was Daniel Defoe? Daniel Defoe (1659 or 61 – 1731) was a pioneering English novelist, the father of modern journalism, a writer who published over 500 works and the author of one of the greatest adventure stories ever written. But with this work he had deeper aims than spinning a good yarn. Daniel Defoe was obsessed with money – the making and losing of it. He thought a guidebook would fill a gap in the market, and make him rich. That’s probably why he wrote the Tour anonymously. He paints an incredible picture of Britain, but hides the person who wrote them. By coming across as a well traveled entrepeneur, Defoe concealed his own notoriety as the 18th century equivalent of Del-Boy.
In the 1530s, England was in a state of turbulence, caused by Henry VIII’s break from Rome and dissolution of the monasteries. Leland was sent on a mission by the monarch to save the libraries of these vanishing monasteries. But over nine years (1533-42), he turned the trip into something bigger. Leland planned to produce the information for a great map of Great Britain. He set himself the task of visiting and describing the entire nation in detail. It was a staggering undertaking, one that ultimately drove him mad. The journey that best exhibits Leland’s legacy was his 1533 visit to Somerset, Devon and Cornwall. In this Great British Journey, Nick Crane retraces Leland’s route and tries to discover what impact the dissolution of the monasteries had on the Tudor landscape. Does anything of that landscape remain today? And what was it about this project that cost Leland his sanity? Who was John Leland? Born in 1503, John Leland became a Royal Chaplain in 1529 then sub-librarian to Henry VIII. A scholar and priest, he was by instinct a geographer with a fantastic eye for detail. His journals made him the great recorder of Tudor England: although he feared his words wouldn’t survive, Henry VIII ordered them preserved. And while Leland died without producing his great map of England, the notes he left behind confirmed him as England’s original discoverer, the man who invented field work and whose rigorous methods laid the ground for generations of mapmakers. So why did he go mad? It’s probable that the magnitude of his task took a huge toll on Leland. And as a religious man, it must have pained him to see the fabric of the church being destroyed. But perhaps it was the loneliness of being so far ahead of his time that finally drove him over the edge.
HV Morton toured Scotland in the 1920 and 30s, driving a Bullnose Morris, from south to north and east to west. At the time, Scotland still had the feeling of wild unexplored lands – and the motor car the novelty of a new form of transport that could open such places up. Morton tried to capture this spirit with his writing, and in doing so struck a popular chord with the middle classes of his day. But there are layers beneath what initially appears an unashamedly picturesque meander through Scotland. For example, did Morton really believe the car was the ultimate mode of travel? What was he really looking for? Did he embellish his account at all? And how much has Scotland changed in the 70-odd years since? Who was HV Morton? The wonderfully-named Henry Canova Vollam Morton was born in Lancashire in 1892. At 17, he joined the paper his father edited: The Birmingham Gazette. This led to The Daily Express, where he made his name covering the discovery of Tutankhamun’s tomb. Despite his English birth, Morton’s Scottish mother had filled his childhood with tales of Bonnie Prince Charlie, William Wallace and Rob Roy. It was inevitable he’d leap at The Daily Express’s request for a series of articles on driving round Scotland. It led to two books: In Search of Scotland (1929) and In Scotland Again (1933). They are two of the earliest and best books from a 60-year career in travel writing, that also covered Europe, Africa and the Middle East. They’re escapist classics, a romantic blend of landscape, history and colourful characters, with nothing reserved about the style. If anything, Morton runs out superlatives too soon, but this weakness can also be a strength of great travel writing: it truly makes you wish you were there.
