The Salt Path by Raynor Winn
(Penguin, March 22, 2018)
Most people who become homeless don’t then decide to embark on a 630 mile walk, but that’s exactly what Raynor Winn and her husband Moth did. The couple, 50 years old, undertook the journey after losing their farm (and home) of two decades when an investment went south. Their property, which had served as collateral, had to be surrendered. With two grown children at university and a paltry monthly insurance payout, the couple suddenly had essentially no income and nowhere to go.
Their misfortune, however, did not end there. Weeks earlier, Winn’s husband had received a diagnosis of Corticobasal degeneration (CBD), a rare debilitating illness. Doctors advised him to rest, but without a home, that was not an option.
They had a solid 30-year relationship and an affinity for the outdoors, so instead of resting, they did the very opposite. Knowing that it would give them plenty of time to develop a plan for their future, the couple commenced their epic walk. Equipped with Paddy Dillon’s Walking the South West Coast Path, rucksacks, and a lightweight tent, they set out, illegally camping in the wild.
I happened upon The Salt Path after undertaking my own long walk, albeit a virtual one, along the 485-mile Camino de Santiago Compostela, an iconic pilgrimage across Spain. Organized by Camino for Good, a site raising funds for pilgrim hostels shuttered due to the pandemic, the virtual walk has participants from all over the world, one of whom posted a podcast interview with Winn. When Winn mentioned gorging on sea-sprayed berries along the route, I immediately put the title on hold at the library.
Like all long walks, theirs was at parts tortuous, a slog, miserable, and mesmerizing. Ray and Moth were continually hungry, sunburnt, wet, hot, and cold. At one point they begged ice water at the end of an especially thirsty stretch, and at others sought hot water for tea along particularly cold and wet ones. Along the way they discovered that their nemeses were early morning dog walkers and hikers with sparkly new, expensive gear, large budgets, loud voices, and outsized egos.
Winn's keen observation and appreciation of the flora, fauna, and geological formations along the way made it easy to understand why they persisted, despite decapitated toenails, food poisoning, and Moth's illness.
More than anything, The Salt Path sheds unique insight into homelessness, highlighting the fact that homeless people, like the rest of us, come in many different stripes. Some are addicts and mentally ill, sorely in need of services. Others have simply fallen on unfortunate economic circumstances, which is especially easy to understand during a global pandemic. Winn says that after experiencing even just a short period of homelessness, many people would understandably turn to drugs and alcohol for escape.
After publication in England in 2018, The Salt Path became an international bestseller. It made me recall other walking memoirs such as Wild: From Lost to Found on the Pacific Crest Trail, Cheryl Strayed’s account of her 1995 solo trek published in 2012.
My pilgrimage across Spain is progressing; current pace has me reaching Santiago close to the end of the school year. At the conclusion of Winn’s walk, she and her husband had hatched a plan for their immediate future. There was a glimmer of hope ahead. Long walks afford that.
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