The Salt Path: From Page to Premiere on Cornwall’s Coast
Written exclusively for Visit Cornwall by freelance journalist Kirstie Newton.
Having followed Raynor Winn’s remarkable journey from the start, Cornwall-based writer Kirstie Newton reflects on the experience of watching The Salt Path come to life on film. At the Newquay premiere, she offers a glimpse behind the scenes—and a reminder of just how powerfully Cornwall continues to inspire.
When a film adaptation was announced of author Raynor Winn’s million-selling memoir The Salt Path, my interest was piqued.
As a Cornwall-based journalist, I have interviewed Raynor several times. She and husband Moth are local celebrities, albeit of the self-effacing kind. While their 630-mile trek along the South West Coast Path was borne out of adversity – the loss of their home due to a business deal turned sour, coinciding with a terminal diagnosis for Moth – the fact it led to a new and fulfilling life living and working in the Duchy has inspired many readers to cross the Tamar in search of their own life-affirming experiences.
As such, I was keen to see how it translated onto the screen. With source material as rich as the Cornish coastline, it was hard to imagine how a movie version could be anything less than simply gorgeous. But the harshest critics are those who know the landscape best - and what would it be like to see two people I have come to know well, portrayed by Agent Dana Scully from the X-Files and Hogwarts villain Lucius Malfoy?
As a freelance journalist, I write for glossy magazines including Cornwall and Devon Life, monthly titles that work to early deadlines and plan well ahead. It became quickly apparent that there was a real buzz around The Salt Path; as with Poldark, there was a feeling readers were on board with it, and it would sell well.
I made contact with Black Bear Pictures and their publicity arm as soon as the film plans were announced. However, with publicity ramping up around the UK release date and an emphasis on the plush sofas of TV titans such as This Morning, you have to be persistent in the regions.
As deadline approached and editors began calling, I focused talking to the good folk at Visit Cornwall and the South West Coast Path Association about their hopes for the success of the movie, and the tourism industry by association. The owners of independent cinemas and bookshops spoke of building excitement about the impending release.
Then came an email invitation to that most exciting of events: the film premiere. Black Bear was pledging to bring a taste of the glitzy capital to Newquay by hosting a gala screening at the Lighthouse Cinema several weeks before hitting national screens.
I got in quick with my RSVP and registered my interest to be on “the media line”, although the little voice in my head wondered exactly what that was before adding: “Just say yes and work it out later, you don’t want to miss out.”
Come the day, it seemed a good idea to ask the question out loud. “It’s the red carpet,” said a communications person. “You get to ask three questions each – bring a recording device.”
Panic ensued as I imagined paparazzi and flashing light bulbs. A lifelong print journo, I’m used to having a quiet 20 minutes with an interviewee, in person or over the phone but most definitely in private, with a shorthand pad and pen to hand. The idea of shouting questions over a cacophony of competitors sends my system into imposter syndrome overdrive.
What if I come across as being hopelessly ill-informed? What if I can’t quell the impulse to bellow at Raynor Winn to “show a bit of leg” for the camera, like Hannah Waddingham at the Olivier Awards? (Ray might actually oblige, with a pin clad impeccably in Mountain Warehouse’s finest).
Even after nearly 30 years in journalism, there is a first time for everything. In for a penny, in for a pound.
Dithering over what to wear, I pulled out a sleeveless coat with an indulgent fur trim, an impulsive birthday purchase that only ever sees the light of day when I’m looking for something glamorous (a friend later commented that I looked “dressed for Siberia”).
I arrived to find my press colleagues dressed in their usual attire, and a strip of red carpet in the cinema lobby, lined up against a wall with a Salt Path backdrop. Leicester Square this was not.
We were all very early, and a little perplexed by the nature of the beast. A TV journalist asked the rest of us to loiter in the background of her shot to make it look busy. With little else to do, we all gamely obliged.
The place soon started to fill up, and 6pm saw the arrival of “the talent”: Raynor and Moth, accompanied by director Marianne Elliot (best known for theatre work including War Horse and The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time) and producer Elizabeth Karlsen.
By this time, the place was heaving and Very Loud. Among the great and the good of Cornwall, I spotted a Fisherman’s Friend, and had a fangirl moment with former Steeleye Span violinist Peter Knight, who tours with Raynor under the banner of Saltlines, a delightful combo of coastal-themed music and readings.
I filmed my interview with the quietly-spoken Raynor, and regretted being unable to back it up with my trusty shorthand because one of my hands was busy. I shared this with director Marianne when it was her turn. “Jason will film it for you, won’t you, Jason?” she said to the PR guy in a tone of voice that suggested no one dared say no to her. I scribbled merrily away until I felt the PR guy’s elbow sharply against my arm, his only recourse to tell me my time was up.
It was time to take our seats. The film began with a recorded message from stars Gillian Anderson and Jason Isaacs (the Lighthouse seating clearly not as enticing for their bottoms as the squishy One Show sofa).
This was the fun bit – an opportunity to sit back and enjoy although, ever the reporter, I carried on writing notes in the dark. These used words like “luminous” and “painterly”, noted cameos by Cornish actors, and suggested a bingo-card of identifiable Cornish locations from Hawker’s Hut and Doyden Castle in North Cornwall’s northernmost reaches to the “forgotten corner” of Rame Head in the south-east. Padstow also got a look-in, and wasn’t that scene filmed just a few streets away in Newquay?
OK, so the geographical order of the path was somewhat sketchy, and I think Devon might have stood in for Cornwall at one point. But unless your name is Angry of Wadebridge, it’s best to suspend your disbelief and just soak up this achingly gorgeous cinematic experience.
The script was sparse but spoke volumes about the shame of homelessness, the devastation of a terminal prognosis and the inner strength of a couple for whom tiny gestures – the sharing of a teabag, the carrying of a backpack - make a huge difference.
And while it was weird to see “Ray and Moth” having sex on screen in the knowledge that the real deal was in the room, it was great talking to Moth afterwards – having been given five years to live by experts, he is still looking good a decade on, albeit with ups and downs. For him, the film evoked “the freedom, the smell of the sea and the roar of the wind – and not having to go back to work on Monday”.
Now, that’s a sentiment we can all identify with.
Your weekly dose of Cornish cheer!
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