Wild At Heart: The Dangers and Delights of a Nomadic Life
Reviewed by Kiran Dass
“I want to feel intensity, rawness. I want clarity and the feeling of having a powerful fire inside me that makes me face fear and danger. For me, it feels as if the security of a house takes away that intensity…”
As a city slicker who finds concrete reassuring and admires Brutalist architecture, it’s an automatic response to feel cynical about Miriam Lancewood’s astonishing story of giving up a life of creature comforts and going bush to live off the land and mingle as one with nature.
Lancewood made a splash in 2017 with her first book Woman in the Wilderness: My Story of Love, Survival and Self Discovery. The cover depicted her gazing off into the distance, a picture of glowing and toned good health, rocking a hand-sewn vest made from pelts from possums hunted by her own hand.
The book outlined Netherlands-born Lancewood’s story of living off-grid in the South Island for six years with her husband Peter. They survived by hunting wild animals and foraging edible plants while living in a tent with minimal supplies. The book became a bestseller and now she returns with a second instalment Wild at Heart: The Dangers and Delights of a Nomadic Life. Here, she recounts the duo’s subsequent travels through Europe and Turkey before meeting adversity while in Australia where Peter, 30 years senior to Lancewood, falls gravely ill from acute kidney failure and dehydration with a recovery chance of just 3 per cent.
It’s actually hard to not get caught up in this compelling yarn of derring-do as the couple travel across France, Switzerland, Germany and Bulgaria. While there is an idealism to experiencing the beauty of the natural world on-the-ground, joining the rhythm of nature and being liberated from the noise and mental and material clutter of modern life, Lancewood is realistic and clear-sighted as she writes frankly of the frailties, uncertainties and challenges of living among the harsh elements while trudging everywhere with a 25kg backpack. At one point, she remembers how the couple once boldly climbed the Himalayas without a guide or cooking gear. How far they actually got though isn’t detailed.
One of the most memorable and colourful chapters takes place in scorching hot Australia when they camp with polygamous couple Kevin and Kate. An altercation ends up with Lancewood and Peter hightailing it out of there when Kevin flips out at the couple for buying eggs that aren’t free range. In a rage, he threatens to chop their heads off and bury them in the swamp. It plays out like an evocative scene from films Wake in Fright or Wolf Creek.
Lancewood grew up vegetarian but started hunting and eating meat when she embraced her new lifestyle. “Hunting was in my blood, in my genes and my ancestry. It felt the most natural thing in the world,” she writes.
While she endorses the thrill of living on the edge with few possessions and no house, she admits that the price you pay is that you might fall off that edge. Romantic and picturesque vistas of pristine waters and lush landscapes are detailed, but she also writes frankly about the moments of boredom and exhaustion. While there are fire-cooked chapatis, nettles and chickwood to eat, Lancewood is of a sturdy disposition as she recalls quite contentedly eating venison patties before realising they are infested with maggots: “after a while we realised that you cannot taste them and they are in fact very nutritious.”
There’s a strong sense in Wild At Heart of Lancewood’s focus, drive, determination and unquenchable thirst for adventure. She writes of the positive effects of this lifestyle on her body and mind and describes in vivid detail the sharpening of her senses, boundless energy and contentment. While not everyone will be inspired enough to give away all their possessions and go bush, this engaging memoir certainly serves as a vicarious thrill.
Miriam Lancewood appears at the Nelson Arts Festival (16-26 October), Yarns in Barns (8-18 October), WORD Christchurch (29 October-1 November) and Verb Wellington (6-8 November).
Reviewed by Kiran Dass