Especially compelling about the book’s prose is its clarity and frankness about the vulnerability of the unaccompanied female body on foot. Abbs doesn’t shy away from commenting on the same challenges faced by her historic walking mentors, who had to deal with menstruation, relieving themselves, finding safe places to sleep, or avoiding predatory male attention. None were postmenopausal when they undertook their legendary journeys. If I could be allowed one 'nitpick' in Windswept, it’s the book’s total lack of maps or pictures of the women and places Abbs writes about. But as a timely inspiration for all of us to get off the couch and walk—somewhere, anywhere—just for the sake of it, it’s one of the most exhilarating and masterful reflections ever on how to meaningfully move on our own feet and the remarkable women who made this a unique expression of their being..

Part memoir, part biography, part history, part rumination, Windswept is a fascinating, deeply thoughtful read. It delves into all sorts of questions about these eight women in particular, and about walking women in general.

... [an] invigorating paean to the liberating power of rural rambles.

The accounts are interspersed with snippets of the biology of the outdoors and the neuroscience of the process of walking, offering a truly interesting spin on why we all should walk. Abbs follows the trails used by her subjects whenever possible, with results that are sometimes thrilling and sometimes disappointing because of the changes that time has wrought.

... [a] beautiful and meditative memoir.