Bill Bryson writes a travel story about his adventures on the Appalachian Trail, which stretches from Georgia to Maine in the USA.

The book overall fails to deliver in the way that I have come to expect from Bryson (Having previously read and loved The Lost Continent: Travels in Small-Town America, In a Sunburned Country and Neither Here nor There: Travels in Europe).

One thing that surprised me was that Bryson avoids discussing the sites around him. Was the trail breathtakingly beautiful, were there points that left him staring speechless? I am assuming not as he never bothers to mention anything. While I have experienced the 'eyes on the trail' focus of a hiker walking from one hut to the next, I also know that in a six hour day of hiking there was ample time to pause in awe of the surroundings.

While this book has some fabulous anecdotes, the type of which fill the travel journal of ever hiker in the world, which I could read again and again. It also draws on some interesting history surrounding the trail, including chilling murders. The book did not deliver enough of these interesting stories to keep me engaged for the duration of the book. Towards the end I began to wonder why he was bothering to write the book.