The Salt Path: triumph over despair

Raynor Winn's memoir describes a middle-aged, Middle English couple setting off on an arduous journey across coastal paths after ending up 'on the street.' In Mairi Anne Elliott's adaptation, set against enchanting landscapes, flawless performances by Gillian Anderson and Jason Isaacs gives their story depth.

Raynor Winn's The Salt Path (Penguin 2018)

Here’s a stark statistic posted by homelessness charity Shelter England: “Half of working renters are only one pay cheque away from losing their home.” Adapted from Raynor Winn’s bestselling memoir, Mairi Anne Elliott turns an everyday story of eviction into an enthralling odyssey set against England’s fabulous southwestern landscapes. Propelled by wonderfully understated performances from Gillian Anderson as Ray and Jason Isaacs as her devoted husband of 32 years, Moth, we see how thin the veneer really is between the home comforts most of us take for granted and destitution.

Ray and Moth’s reaction to losing most of their worldly possessions is to head off on the 630-miles trek along the longest uninterrupted path in England, Minehead to Poole, snaking around the coasts of Somerset, Devon, Cornwall, and Dorset. Trying to get by on a weekly budget of £40 is remarkable enough. That they are doing so after Moth’s diagnosis with Corticobasal Degeneration (a rare, life-limiting degenerative brain disease) injects their cross-country journey with a purpose beyond A to B. You almost feel every painstaking limp as Moth gamely struggles up steep stairwells carved into rockfaces centuries ago; about turning is not an option.

They encounter various reactions to their homeless state. Initially, their attempts to find emergency accommodation or access government hardship payments are dashed against the wall of faceless bureaucracy - in a soulless DWP office, Moth is asked whether or not he expects to live longer than one year. As no definitive timescale can be placed on his degenerative condition, this disqualifies him from making any claim. Dogwalkers are irate about coming across their tent pitched nowhere near camping sites. Londoners who own a plush West Country retreat believe Moth to be a renowned poet who has hit hard times. After inviting him back for selfie opportunities and a massage, upon discovering he is just some random down-and-out, he and Ray are summarily sent on their way. At one point, Ray and Moth trudge through what their guidebook informs them is the site of a former leper colony; the irony is not lost on them. On the other hand, they are also unexpectedly generous offers from strangers.

It’s bad enough the tent they are living in fails to prevent crippling cold, or shelter from high tides. Technology also conspires against the plucky couple. Forgetting to cancel the home insurance leaves them at a cash point stating £1.38 is available. Their daughter phoning to complain she’s stranded en route to a holiday job in Croatia reinforces the powerlessness they feel having been forced to go off-grid.

But in facing adversity, Ray and Moth never sink into abject pessimism. Quite the reverse. Detached from the rat race, strolling along headlands overlooking majestic seas, dining on noodles while being scrutinised by a falcon, and those occasional encounters with Good Samaritans crossing their path, give them a positive perspective. Their sense of hope, especially ever-sanguine Moth, and the enduring love they have for each other, shines brighter than any of the life-affirming Devon sunsets they are fortunate to experience every day.