Great Walks reviews the film The Salt Path
I first encountered Raynor Winn’s memoir The Salt Path soon after its release in 2018 and have treasured it since. The account of bravery in the face of extreme hardship has stayed with me – and as a walker myself I felt every stride, every set-back and every moment of euphoria as Raynor and her husband traversed the South West Coast Path.
But as with all much-loved novels adapted for film, I approached the newly released, The Salt Path with a degree of hesitancy. The essence of a novel is so easily lost.
A fortuitous gift from Great Walks led me to a Mother’s Day screening of the film with my daughter and my husband.
It’s a powerful film. Yes, there is the unmistakeable power of the wild coastal landscape of South West England – but for me the film’s potency lies in the smaller intimacies of a couple whose struggle extends far beyond the 1000km track stretching ahead of them.
We meet Raynor and Moth Winn on the trail. We feel the weight of their packs, but their first steps appear to lack the usual joy and freedom of the first day of a multiday hike. This is no luxurious midlife adventure – there are no beginning of trail high-fives or enthusiastic selfies. There is a degree of desperation in their first steps as we immediately glimpse Moth’s uneven gait and Raynor’s resignation to the task ahead.
The story of their loss is delivered to us piecemeal. As we huddle in their very rudimentary tent on their first night of wild camping, we cannot overlook the noodle dinner and meagre snacks. Their back story of poor investments and unsuccessful court appeals is slowly revealed – culminating in the loss of their family home and livelihood.
When peers are retiring to enjoy the spoils of their labour, the Winn’s send their grown children on to their university lives while privately facing homelessness. A chance glimpse of a Paddy Dillon’s guidebook lying atop their hastily packed belongings leads to them Somerset and the South West Coast Path.
As the track unfolds into steep rocky ascents and hidden coves, so too does the story behind Moth’s obvious physical struggles. Within a week of their financial ruin, Moth’s neurologist delivers the dire diagnosis of Corticobasal Degeneration or CBD. As a Speech Pathologist working with neuro-degenerative conditions I am far too familiar with the usual trajectory of this disease.
The disease forges its own trail through the brain with a ferocity that eventually claims movements, speech, language and cognition. It’s an incurable condition generally accompanied by a 5-to-7-year prognosis of increasing incapacity. The only predictable element of the condition is that it will kill you.
It seems conceivable, then, that Raynor and Winn might run from this grim forecast – for this couple, the Salt Path is an escape. This is not an unfamiliar impetus for walkers who take on the grand pilgrimages of this planet. The great walks are often taken at times of transition and loss, and while I have not undertaken walks of this scale, I am a fervent believer in the restorative value of immersing fully on a multiday hike.
I am also a believer in the moments of light that are gifted to hikers. The splendid cinematography captures these treasures perfectly – the camera is equally comfortable panning across expansive seascapes before drawing us into on a dripping, mossy glade. At one point, Raynor and Moth are poised taking in the vivid blue of the sky and ocean, while a well-oiled group of day walkers rush by. They smile knowingly at each other recognising that their timelines have shifted to align more with the trail – they walk when they can walk, stop when they must stop – and take time for wonderment.
The portrayal of the unrelenting gales, plummeting temperatures and poor nutrition is softened by other moments of light along the way. Moth is the unlikely beneficiary of a resemblance to a touring poet which launches him into moments of unexpected recital and the first wholesome food of their journey.
As is the case too often in this world, people who have the least often give the most, and the Winn’s take temporary shelter with a forest-dwelling group of fellow homeless wanderers. Morning swimmers share their haul of sea-salted blackberries in a scene that I loved dearly in the novel and found equally tender here.
The juxtaposition of these scenes with the affluent tourist trade of the Path’s coastal villages is confronting. I too have felt the urge to move quickly from the congested towns with their omnipresent plastic tourist trinkets to return to the soft sounds of a trail.
Gillian Anderson and Jason Isaacs deliver masterful performances – but the true extent of their mastery is revealed at the end of their journey. I will not spoil this for would-be viewers but Moth’s soliloquy of the true meaning of home, and Raynor’s private tearful declaration of her love for her husband undid me.
I watch struggles like Moth’s in my work, but I have also walked alongside dear friends facing chronic illness and I recognise when there is more to the next step than lacing the boots.
I also shared viewing of this film with my daughter and husband who both face uncertain health futures – and for me The Salt Path’s strength lies in its message of partnership and persistence.
This film will resonate with anyone who finds solace in nature, but I think this film has a broader reach. For me, being ‘salted’ speaks to anyone who recognises that in times of hardship we huddle close to those we love and face what lies ahead one step at a time – and surely in our uncertain times a film about hope and humanity has a message for us all.
Words_Colleen Kerr
The Salt Path (2024)
- Director: Marianne Elliot
- Genre: Biographical Drama
- Cast: Gillian Anderson, Jason Isaacs
- Running Time:1hr 55 minutes
- Click here for showtimes and ticket info