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Walking The Salt Path like Gillian Anderson and Jason Isaacs

Join one travel writer’s gloriously half-hearted homage to The Salt Path – the extraordinary true story of Raynor Winn and her husband Moth’s 630-mile trek along the South West Coast Path, now a major film starring Gillian Anderson and Jason Isaacs.

In contrast, this luxury-loving imposter tackles just 40 miles (some by bus), fuelled by hot tubs, fish and chips, and samphire-scented hand cream. From cliff-hugging trails and Cornish pasties to barefoot beach walks and indulgent dinners, it’s a long-weekend escape that proves you don’t have to rough it to feel the magic of the coast.

    I’m a cheat. A charlatan. A fraud. Raynor Winn and her husband Moth – played by Gillian Anderson and Jason Isaacs in new film The Salt Path – walked the full 630-mile length of the South West Coast Path, flimsy eBay tent on back, after Moth was diagnosed with terminal brain disease and they were made homeless.

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    I, on the other lavishly moisturised hand, am doing about 40 miles – several of them by bus – over four days, based at a luxury hotel (hence the grapefruit-and-samphire-scented mitts). Dishonesty never tasted so good, though, I reflect as I demolish my first ill-earned cardboard carton of fish and chips… or so necessary. It took Raynor and Moth two summers to complete the Path, between 2013 and 2014, and the official recommendation (southwestcoastpath.org.uk) is to allow 52 days.

    I’ve only got a long weekend, so have lasered in on a section in Cornwall that bulges like a badly stuffed backpack with clifftop drama, sheep-nibbled meadows, irresistibly paddle-able beaches… and great public transport links for if/when I need to bale out of a walk and head back to the Watergate Bay Hotel (watergatebay.co.uk) for a sole-soothing spell in the sunset-view hot-tub and a Huckaback IPA.

    In fact, it’s an effort to get off public transport. The train from London (gwr.com) arcs within splashing distance of the sea in places, with Panavision views through those widescreen windows, like a Coast Path walk for couch-potatoes , and I’m tempted to stay on to the end of the line. Instead, a ten-minute taxi from Newquay gets me to Watergate Bay, where the eponymous hotel sits about six feet from the sand.

    The Coast Path is even closer – if it ran any nearer to my gorgeous New England-styled room, walkers would be able to wash their feet in my rolltop bath – so there’s no excuse not to get a couple of miles under my belt. The stretch just north of here is a peach: infinite Atlantic views to the left, gently curving wildflower-strewn hills to the right. And the Path leads me to Mawgan Porth, where I pair that chippy dinner with a pint of Sharp’s from the pub next door and a picnic table on the beach opposite.

    Another 40 (now fully fuelled) minutes get me to Bedruthan Steps, a National Trust beauty spot where jagged sandstone stacks scattered offshore are said to be a giant’s stepping stones, but look more like he’s spat out a pack of half-chewed Mountain Bites or whatever it is giants snack on. I watch a sunset rich enough to scarlet not just the sky but the ocean too, then taxi back to base to see its long afterglow haunt the horizon for another half-hour.

    The next day I head south out of the hotel, a little hesitant because the Path passes through Newquay in that direction, and my memories of the place are largely of stag-dos (and indeed don’ts). With the weather on my side, though, I find I can bypass the town altogether by simply whipping off my walking shoes and barefooting it across the vast beaches here, each one the delicious colour and buttersoft consistency of Cornish fudge.

    My feet get damp and sandy, but dry off in minutes under a hot May sun, so I shortcut along the beaches of Porth, Tolcarne, Towan, Fistral and Crantock, too – rushing now to make it across Gannel Estuary at low tide, or it’ll be more than my feet that gets wet.

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    I stop there for a vegan pasty “so good it will turn you vegan!”, says the lady who sells it to me (and it really might have been, if the sausage roll I got alongside it wasn’t even better).

    Ending up at Holywell Bay – clearly recognisable from the film, as is Fistral – I stop, swim and get the bus back to the hotel and its fantastic Zacry’s restaurant, where the monkfish tail was as good as the views out to sea. I need an early night because tomorrow is a 20-miler to Padstow.

    Morning finds me on a track that heaves and plunges along cliffs speckled with thrift and sea campion, swooping past lighthouses, lifeboat stations, kestrel-heavy headlands and secret coves of improbable aquamarine. The Path hugs the cliff edge – and occasionally my soul – all the way into Padstow, where I hit Rick Stein’s Fish & Chips (rickstein.com/steins-fish-and-chips).

    This time I order a meal so big it comes in a pizza-sized box (it’s called the “Catch & Compare”, which perhaps suggests it’s meant for two…) but so downright delicious I happily eat it all myself. Life feels so good there on the old harbour wall, I can see why someone would want to do the full 630 miles.

    But next morning my calves are having none of that. Instead I spend a morning on (actually, mostly off) a surfboard, hired from Wavehunters, just ten mercifully short steps from the hotel (wavehunters.co.uk). I’ll catch up with Raynor and Moth Winn another day.

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    The Salt Path is out now in cinemas on Friday 30th May 2025.

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