The Salt Path

First time author Raynor Winn makes a startling impression with this wildy immersive autobiography about her 630 mile walk around the South West Coastal path, with her terminally ill husband. Winn’s ability to lyrically capture nature, whilst weaving an adventure built entirely out of despair is well worthy of the high acclaim it received.

Having spent a lifetime with her husband Moth building up a thriving farm in Wales (complete with holiday lets and a flurry of animals); the couple lose everything. Homeless, in their fifties and with nowhere to go, Moth is diagnosed with Corticobasal degeneration (CBD), a rare progressive neurological disorder. It’s summer and with their two kids away at University, the couple hide under the stairs as the bailiffs arrive. Ray spots an old book lodged in the cupboard - The South West Coast Path by Paddy Dillon.

With a thin tent bought on eBay and two £5 sleeping bags from the supermarket, they set off along the path - unsure if they’ll even make the first night (never mind the full 630 miles). From the very first page I was hooked, willing Ray and Moth forward through the weeks of nothing but noodles and fudge bars; trusting them to avoid urban areas with more danger and stick to the safe wilderness of the path. The narrative is raw and painful, but undoubtedly uplifting as it unfolds. Ray’s unrelenting love and Moth’s physical resilience entwine as they live for each next step, each next hour in each others company.

Hand in hand in the hot mid-afternoon sun. Homeless, dying, but strangely, in that sweaty, dehydrated moment, shyly, reluctantly happy. Lucky Bastards.

Expect to want to book your next trip to Cornwall as Ray and Moth lead you down from Minehead across jurassic coastlines, tin mines and scraggy cliffs. They traverse sweet orchards and face full frontal Atlantic winds, with abundant wildlife and strange soothsayers along the way. This is not a romanticised version however, the trip is not about purism as they avoid some parts of the path due to weather and then the long winter season. With the skin of her nose peeled off more times than she can count, the book has a hopeful ending - made all the better in the knowledge that her second book already taking the shelves by storm.

Our world was changing, the edges fading as our journey drew us on between sea, sky and roc. Becoming one with the wild edge we inhabited, our fetch redefined by the salt path we trod.

Though unconventionally homeless, it is reiterated throughout the book that at least 280,000 households claimed to be homeless in the UK in 2013; and that is only those who officially applied for help. Actual figures are much higher. Ray and Moth alternated between admitting to those they came across that they were homeless, and just giving a vague ‘sold the house’ tale. It was often the difference between hostility and isolation, or wonder and a warm welcome. It’s a well-known fact that second-home buyers and holiday lets have become all too common in the south west, leaving locals without businesses in the off-seasons, and filling the beaches with tourists in the summer. The homeless population along the Cornish and Devonshire coast that Ray mentions in this book are more often than not locals, born and bred in the community but unable to keep up with the inflating prices - unwilling to leave their land.

If you’d like to help, there are a couple of charities in these areas doing great work. Emmaus one of the great homelessness charities with a difference, providing more than just a bed for the night for people who have experienced homelessness and social exclusion. They provide a home for as long as someone needs it, as well as meaningful work in our social enterprise. This works to help to restore feelings of self-esteem and give our companions, as residents are known, the opportunity to regain control of their lives. You can find out more here