A Walk to the Water publication – 19 October 2015

A Walk to the Water - Daniel Graham

A Walk to the Water – Daniel Graham

After five months of walking and two years of writing, I am delighted to announce that SilverWood Books have set a publication date for A Walk to the Water – Six Million Steps to the Mediterranean Sea.

As of the 19 October 2015,  you will be able to get your hands of a copy via any one of a number of sites: Waterstones, Blackwell’s, Foyles and, if all else fails, Amazon. A Walk to the Water will also be available as an ebook. For those local to Bristol, England, I will be holding a book launch in November 2015. More on that to come.

I have also created a ‘Daniel Graham author website‘, complete with a very serious biography and further contact information.

Thank you to all those who have helped me on my journey to publication.

Deciding my title

Book cover 1             book cover 2

Dear readers, I would like to ask for some advice. As some of you may know, I am going to be publishing my first book during the next few months – the story of a 3,000 kilometre walk that my brother and I completed in 2013 across Western Europe. It’s an exciting venture, but does involve some rather tricky decisions, one of which I must soon make: What should the book be called?

I have long referred to the memoir as A Walk to the Water, but recently decided that it would be foolish to disregard alternative titles, such as Six Million Steps to the Mediterranean Sea. If you have a spare minute or two I would love some feedback on the matter. Which title grabs your attention more? Which is most intriguing? The synopsis for the book can be found here.

Thank you and have a lovely day!

Without compass and map

I look up into the iris of the Olympic’s rain forest canopies. I am without compass, map and memory, but I am not lost. Indeed, far beyond the knowledge of our material world, I know precisely where I am.

The dynamism of the mountains

The dynamism of the mountains

The dynamism of the mountains

Thrilled at the prospect of a night beneath Mont Blanc, we skulked off the path and made camp amongst a scattering of alder shrub. It was dark, yet the soft radiance of the moon illuminated the snow-drenched crest of the White Mountain with a subtle, sapphire glow. In the low light, she was humble.

When morning came, we unzipped the tent and stared up at the mountain. With the light of day now washed across her contours, her angles were raw, her glaciers bleeding and her atmosphere volatile. What a stark contrast she was from the day previous.

At a glance, the White Mountain is strong and definite. But have no doubt, she has a dynamism that could conquer a storm in the desert and the waves through the sea.