Inspired by the Salt Path? These are the best sections to walk

Times

24-05-2025

The much-awaited film adaptation of The Salt Path, Raynor Winn's life-affirming memoir about how she and her terminally ill husband Moth discovered the regenerative power of nature on the South West Coast Path, hits cinemas on May 30. They walked its entire 630 miles from Somerset to Dorset (which with its various ascents adds up to 115,000ft of climbing, like scaling Mount Everest four times), wild camping most of the way, living largely on tinned tuna and packet noodles. For those who are inspired by their story and the scenery described, but not inclined to emulate their experience exactly: follow this guide to the best bits. I've walked almost every inch over the past 20 years or so and these are four of my favourite walks.
If you're lucky you may end up like the Winns, who were told by a fellow walker: 'You've held the hand of nature. It won't ever leave you now; you're salted.'
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Praising north Devon's lack of infrastructure is hardly the sexiest of sells but I never walk this quiet coast without giving thanks for the absence of a motorway that keeps the bucket-and-spade brigade at bay.
For me, its real treasure isn't its golden beaches but the exquisite temperate rainforests of the twin towns of Lynton and Lynmouth. Their ancient oaks are festooned with Hansel-and-Gretel mosses, delicate ferns and coral-like lichens that feel as magical as a Lord of the Rings set. From Lynton, walk down through steep, dappled paths alongside the Lyn River, which provides natural air con by smashing into boulders and throwing up cooling spray. In no time, you'll emerge at Lynmouth's pretty harbour.
It's acceptable to cheat at this point and hop on the Lynton & Lynmouth Cliff Railway, the world's highest, totally water-powered funicular (£3.75/£2.25; cliffrailwaylynton.co.uk) to get back to Lynton. Remarkably, it still uses the same ingenious method to transport holidaymakers back up the 500ft to Lynton as it has since 1890: water. Tanks of river water empty and fill to counterbalance the funicular's two carriages, which are connected by a cable and pulleys, dragging one up as the other lowers. Old-fashioned works beautifully in this neck of the woods; just check out the tea-shop decor. Don't have a cuppa here though, save yourself for a sugar hit en route.
From Lynton you could add on a three-mile (ish) circular walk through the inscrutably eerie Valley of Rocks. Its giant Jenga stacks of slate and sandstone are mesmerising, as is the clippety-clop commute of its resident wild goats. A word of praise for these wiry ruminants, introduced in the Seventies. Their insouciant poise as they munch on nothing much on alarmingly sheer cliff faces would make Cirque du Soleil acrobats spit in jealous rage. Also competing for your attention are far-reaching views over the Bristol Channel and the Lee Abbey Tea Cottage (leeabbeydevon.org.uk). Go on, you've earned your scones (it's clotted cream first then jam in Devon, by the way).
Keep Braunton Burrows, a 45-minute drive from Lynton, in your top pocket for another day. It serves up four miles of the wispiest, most romantic dunes imaginable, providing the perfect foil to those rugged cliffs. Bolstering north Devon's claim as the coast with the most, it also has heavenly beaches and devilish surfing at Woolacombe, Croyde and Saunton Sands as well as the soulful peace of the Hartland peninsula.
Stay at Bath Hotel, which has a ringside seat over Lynmouth's harbour, a Victorian-style dining room, a cracking boozer and 20 quirky bedrooms (B&B doubles from £115; bathhotellynmouth.co.uk).
The fishermen's cottages and cobbled lanes of St Ives are as pretty as a picture but usually sardine-squidged with arty emmets (one of the more polite nicknames locals have for tourists) visiting Tate St Ives and the Barbara Hepworth Museum and Sculpture Garden, while its chunk of the coast path is often blissfully empty.
To walk it, I'd suggest staying at Gurnard's Head and jumping on the A16 bus to St Ives where you can pull on your boots and grab a homemade brown bread ice cream from Palais Provisions — for energy, you understand, not gluttony. The hike back to Zennor, while a truly spectacular six or so miles, is reasonably challenging, so you'll need it.
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You'll be bathed en route by the famously celestial light that lured artists such as Hepworth to this coastal knuckle. That luminosity showcases these thyme-scented headlands, wrapped in wild gorse perfectly, and never fails to lift my spirits. I love how their sharp-angled granite cliffs dip down to rocky coves where you may spot the odd seal.
I can definitely guarantee you a mermaid sighting. St Senara's Church has hunkered down in Zennor since the 12th century and is home to a mermaid who's not going anywhere — she's carved into a bench end. Continue on to Gurnard's Head, a narrow headland which, if you've had sufficient pints of the Cornish Thundercloud Hazy IPA (a hefty 5.5 per cent), may indeed bear a vague resemblance to a fish's head. Never mind, it's a fitting finale, with the remains of an Iron Age fort to admire for good measure.
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Stay at the Gurnard's Head, a clifftop pub with rooms near Zennor that's a magnet for walkers and foodies for its landmark location and superior dining (try crispy red gurnard with fennel or monkfish tail with lobster) and wine list (mains from £15; B&B doubles from £168; gurnardshead.co.uk).
Branscombe is the Fortnum & Mason of chocolate-box villages, fitting for this sweet five-miler along the Jurassic Coast. Wind your way through the village, passing its working 16th-century forge and on through woods to reach a shingle beach that's a cockle-warming nostalgia hit of beach huts, with the bonus of a humongous 13,500kg anchor, commemorating the MSC Napoli grounding here in 2007.
To the west the shoreline sports the rusty-red remnants of a desert formed 230 million years ago that swishes around to Sidmouth, but I'm partial to the deliciously syrupy dollops heading in the other direction, deposited by tropical seas a mere 85 million years ago. Storms and landslides have made this section as tipsy as a priest at a wedding, with the cliffs slip-sliding drunkenly towards Beer. No not another drink, Father, the name of the next village on, which has lashings of children's storybook cuteness.
After a wickedly steep climb up East Cliff, the path levels out. Then just as your breath returns to normal, prepare for it to be taken away again, figuratively speaking. Hooken Undercliff is an extraordinary gash, created more than 200 years ago when a 10-acre tract of the cliff's brow made a bid for freedom, but only got as far as 200ft down. It is now a dramatic portal to a lost world of eye-catching ferns and flowers that have made a home among the chalk pinnacles and columns entangled in its fragments of fields. It's so charming that you'll be tempted to take root too, but walk on to witness the cliffs turn dazzling white and eventually drop into Beer.
All things considered, it would be rude not to stop for a pint, and the Barrel of Beer pub never knowingly undersells its USP, encouraging passers-by to have a beer in Beer at the Barrel of Beer. Appropriate merch readily available, natch. I had a gin and tonic — I'm a born rebel. There's a luxuriously wide and well-sheltered beach, where brightly coloured fishing boats loll on the pebbles: stranded by the retreating tide or passed out from too many pints, you decide.
Check out the stall on the slipway where the fishermen sell that day's catch. We've had amazing crab from them. Return to Branscombe via the easier, grassy top path.
Stay at the 14th-century Masons Arms in Branscombe, a low-beamed beauty, serving tasty food, topped off with excellent service and 28 boutique bedrooms (mains from £15; B&B doubles from £110; masonsarms.co.uk).
Lyme Regis is a seaside beauty, with Battenberg-coloured townhouses tumbling down to the Cobb, its 13th-century harbour wall, which curves hypnotically into Lyme Bay. Jane Austen regularly took holidays here and to celebrate the 175th anniversary of her birth this year, the National Trust has guided walks along the Cobb in August, with readings from Persuasion, which had Lyme as its backdrop (free; nationaltrust.org.uk). This is also the UK's fossil capital, and I've had endless, absorbing shoreline rambles, hunting for ammonites and finding only 'beef' (rubbish). From almost everywhere in town, the incredible hulk of the Golden Cap cliff beckons in the distance. Give into temptation — the seven miles to reach it are a 3D lesson in natural history that would have turned me into a geography teacher had I visited during my formative years. It ticks off shingle beach, river, woodlands, hills and traditional patchworks of fields before finally arriving at Golden Cap. Its 627ft summit is the highest point on the south coast and, on a clear day, your reward for making it to the top are fabulous views to Portland Bill, Start Point and even Dartmoor. Fortunately, the X53 bus will take you back to Lyme.
Stay at Lyme Townhouse, which has seven cheery bedrooms in a grade II listed Georgian home, a ten-minute walk down to the beach front. There's no evening restaurant but don't miss the Dorset breakfast (B&B doubles from £185; lyme-townhouse.co.uk).
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