The wind is so strong that my cheeks seem to have a life of their own.
I’m out in nature, walking along the rugged cliffs of the South West Coast Path in England.
To my right, the ocean.
Big waves crashing against big rocks.
My hair, pushed by the wind, blocks some of that view.
I stop and stand still.
I feel the wind pushing against me.
I hear the ocean roar.
There’s no one else around.
Except for Yvonne and me.
I turn to her and smile.
We travel for moments like this.
Moments of quiet. Of wonder.
The ones that make you feel small and alive at the same time.
We’ve been road-tripping through the UK for a few weeks now.
Today, we decided to walk a small section of the South West Coast Path.
Our goal is to make it from our campground to Ilfracombe.
About 10 kilometers. Roughly 1% of the trail.
The full path is over 1,000 kilometers long.
One day, we dream of walking all of it.
We hadn’t even heard of this path until a few weeks ago when we were in Glasgow.
We decided to stop there to let the rain pass.
The weather prediction was rain all day. Non. Stop.
Not ideal for exploring the outdoors.
So, we decided to explore a city and stay at a hotel.
Our self-converted mini campervan is not built for rough weather camping.
We wandered through Glasgow, saw the sights, and ran out of things to do.
Our hotel room smelled… historic, to put it lightly.
So, it was either go back and sit in it or find something else to do.
It was around 7 pm. Museums were closed.
And we’d already spent a couple of hours in a pub, sipping alcohol-free beers and singing along to live music.
I pulled out my phone.
“What about a movie?”
Yvonne shrugged. “Sure.”
There wasn’t much playing.
One film caught my eye.
The image was of an older couple hugging, with the ocean in the background.
“It’s called The Salt Path, and the story’s about a couple who decides to go on a long hike,” I said.
“Wanna go?”
“Why not,” she replied.
So we went.
We didn’t expect that story to stay with us the way it did.
It begins with a couple losing their farm and livelihood after a bad investment.
They’re left with nothing. No money, no home.
Then, the husband is diagnosed with a neurodegenerative disease.
So in a matter of months, they become homeless, and one of them has a death sentence.
They try to find support from the government, and everything fails.
Instead of giving up, they decide to walk.
To walk the South West Coast Path.
No real gear. No massive planning. Just each other, a tent, and a will to keep going.
Their backpacks are heavy.
Not just because of their stuff, but because of everything else they’re carrying.
The weight of illness and death, the loss of security, and their livelihood.
And somehow, step by step, they start to heal.
Both emotionally and physically.
Heal from the loss. Heal from the grief. Heal from the fear of losing each other.
And what’s super crazy is that he also starts feeling better.
We watched in silence, deeply moved.
I won’t spoil the ending, but I’ll share the final scene.
The couple sits by a bonfire on the beach.
An older woman passes by and tells them the rain’s on its way.
They nod. “We know.”
She pauses. Studies them.
And then says:
It’s touched you, it’s written all over you: you’ve felt the hand of nature. It won’t ever leave you now; you’re salted…People fight the elements, the weather, especially here, but when it’s touched you, when you let it be, you’re never the same again. Good luck, wherever your path takes you.
The screen fades to black.
Yvonne and I look at each other with tears in our eyes.
That story reminded us that if the worst ever happened, if we lost everything…
we would be okay.
Because we are home to each other.
And as long as we stay together, we can weather any storm.
A loud wave crashing against a big rock brings me back to this moment.
The strong wind, the cloudy sky, the ferns and leaves dancing to an intense rhythm…
like they’re dancing to hard techno or something.
I look down at my feet.
This is the same path that couple walked.
I feel their story lingering in the stones.
And I know…
No matter what lies ahead, we’ll be alright.
I lick my lips.
Salt.
And the words come back:
You’re salted…