Living off the grid for 40 years
In a book written in a first-person, vulnerable and intimately entertaining narrative oral storytelling voice, Ken Smith takes us through his entire life — of youthful globe-trotting adventure and hardship, to an eventual life of self-sufficiency and spiritual awareness in Scotland.
He goes on to survive the worst snowstorm in 50 years, injury and semi-starvation all in his attempt to reap the rewards of living a solitary life in nature.
Smith is one tough cookie! After 40 years and at the age of 75, he is still isolated deep in the wild and reflecting on his life and sharing it with us. How lucky we are to have this first-hand account of a life lived off-the-grid. Having done this for four years myself, I not only admire what Ken Smith has been able to accomplish, but am in awe of his stamina and thankful for his deeper insights into the benefits of living the kind of life he has. Here in “The Way of the Hermit: My Incredible 40 Years of Living in the Wilderness,” (Hanover Square Press, 2024, 266 pages) we get a side-by-side, blow-by-blow account of his trials and travails as well as his bliss.
Due to the personal nature of this book and the breadth of the storyline, I’ve decided that the best way to review this book would be in Ken Smith’s own words. So, I’ll attempt to act as a secondary tour guide and let Smith do all the talking.
Page 77: “I wanted to know what proper adventure felt like, in one of the most exciting places on earth. I wanted to know how I would fare, truly out on my own, and to be utterly independent of everything and everyone. Immersed in nature, neither spending a cent nor seeing a soul.”
Page 94: “Sometimes you just need to get going, with little more than a ‘hope for the best,’ and then simply see what happens. Just start living as you see fit tomorrow, and then try and do it all again the next day too. You’ll get where you need to be eventually.”
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Page 121: “The new year brought the very worst period of snowfall, hurricane-force winds and plummeting temperatures. I was drowning in snow!”
Page 127: “No matter how bleak things got in my life, I would always now try to find a way to appreciate the smallest of the gifts I’d been given.”
Page 168: “A proper consideration for what we need to take from what’s around us, versus what it can afford to give up and what we can afford to give it back as a replacement. That’s where the line of what constitutes a real natural balance truly lies.”
Page 172: “My words are as much a proof of my progress as the solid building I sit within, or the log piles dotted around my house. But I personally believe that it is the affection in your words and feeling toward them that stimulates them to grow.”
Page 174: “By the time October arrives, the weather turns and the first snows and storms arrive, but sequestered safely in my cabin, with the world screaming around outside, I feel nothing but the deepest sense of comfort and security.”
Page 182: “Long daylight hours in northern Scotland forcing work deep into the evenings with cabin repairs, the log piles, the vegetable plot, and everything else which may never achieve total darkness.”
Page 187: “Midge, fly, horsefly, deer fly and slug. Give me winter any day of the week! With those devilish beasties firmly in the ground, there is nought more for the hermit to do but luxuriate in the seclusion of the Scottish Highlands.”
Page 194: “Something magical endures in the wilds up here; and when you’ve gone weeks without seeing a soul, and had nothing but the trees, mountains and this expansive loch (lake) for company, you can still believe it might yet have the power to conjure up something special.”
Page 212: “I have eaten fresh road-kill and train-kill when I’ve found it, and continue to forage seasonally, but my most regular source of wild food has always been the loch (lake).”
Page 228: “I’ve seen the most beautiful sunrises. Gentle hues or deep reds, embracing the land in a glowing performance for one very lucky set of human eyes.”
Page 229: “It’s nine mile walk to get to the Post Office, and another nine miles on top of that to get to town. Without a lift or train, I’m looking at a round trip to town on foot, in just one day, of more than fifty miles.”
Page 242: “Rest day for me spent only chopping 167 logs, supping coffee, finishing a proper gutting of the roadkill hare, and cooking, which is finally stewed hare with carrots, turnip, onions and parsnip. I live like a Scottish laird (lord)!”
Page 258: “No medicine gets me better quicker than the motivation I have to get back to nature, and this cabin, as soon as I possibly can.”
Page 261: “I am now hoping to live to 102. It makes a real difference, wanting to stay alive and digging in. Finding reasons and inspiration to carry on.”
Page 263: “A different kind of love has long since been born in me. A love of this place, the earth under my feet, a love of the wild and the wildlife. Then there’s the best bit of all. The peace and quiet.”
Page 264: “We do have our place in the natural order of things, you know. Our true place is lined up against everything and everyone else as an equal. We are just one creature in the great sweep of nature on the planet — another animal rewarde d with the privilege of walking the earth.”
(Thomas Crowe is a regular contributor to Smoky Mountain News and is author of the multi-award winning non-fiction nature memoir Zoro’s Field: My Life in the Appalachian Woods.)
