A Blue MG Midget on the Salt Path

Part 1 — North Devon

As we climbed Porlock Hill, the fog intensified. It was so thick that we could barely see the road. I was physically aware of how little our car had in the way of safety features, and although we knew the road well, things look different in the fog. And then, all of a sudden, we reached the top of the hill and the fog completely cleared.

Or had it?

The road at the top of the hill was banked on either side by steep ancient hedges, which held the fog up, high above our heads, and we were speeding through a crystal clear tunnel.

Have you heard of The Salt Path? It’s an award-winning book by Raynor Winn that some of us here on Medium are reading together. There’s a link at the end of this article if you’d like to join us!

The story takes place on the South West Coast Path in England. I won’t give the plot away, but it tells of a couple (Moth and Ray), overcome by adversity, who set out to walk 630 miles with nothing left but the packs on their back and forty-eight pounds a week.

For many of my fellow readers, the story reawakens strong memories. It resonates with each of us in different ways. For me, it makes me homesick for this part of England. The deep bond between Moth and Ray is like the one I share with my husband.

We used to live a short drive from the Path at just around the time we got married. Our buddy on all our adventures in the South West was our blue MG Midget. The memory of our foggy drive up Porlock Hill, one of the locations in the book, is very fresh in my mind. It was 1997.

The first time I saw the Midget it was jammed into the back corner of a used car dealership near Bristol in England. It was dusty and looked a bit unloved but to me, it seemed to be emitting some kind of magical glow. “Buy Me” it winked.

The garage mechanic pulled the car out and brought it kerbside. The blue paint needed a bit of a polish and the soft top had seen better days. The interior was pure 70s. Tan leather, well worn in. When I sat in the driver’s seat my legs stretched straight in front of me to reach the pedals. It felt like a race car!

This was our wedding present to ourselves. In contrast to the typical honeymoon trip — fancy hotel, sunny destination, beach — we had chosen to spend our first week of married life driving around Scotland with a 2 person dome tent as our accommodation.

After the honeymoon, we returned to the south west. Tent and MG at the ready, most weekends in the summer we’d be down in Devon or Cornwall. The names of the towns in The Salt Path are like a litany of sacred places for me. I am still early in the book, but here are some memories of places mentioned in the story so far, that the blue MG took us to…

Lynton and Lynmouth — this pretty pair of towns was often a stop for us on the way south. Two rivers join at the top of the hill (Lynton) and plummet down to sea level (Lynmouth). There is an old water-powered funicular railway between the towns. We’d pull up the MG alongside the harbour and watch the seagulls buzz tourists, and read the sign that told the story of a catastrophic flood in 1952 which washed parts of Lynmouth away and killed many residents. The episode that takes place in the book at Lynmouth, where a passerby calls Raynor a tramp (i.e. a hobo or bum) and implies that she’s drunk, made me stop and think about the way we treat homeless people.

Woolacombe — our super fun beach town. A holiday town on a long, wide, sandy bay. Joining a bunch of mates, we’d camp close to the beach where during the day we’d pretend to be surfers. Only a few of us could actually surf but we looked the part! The little colourful beach huts were so pretty to look at. We’d spend our evenings in the Jubilee Inn then on to the Marisco Disco. Navy blue Vans and a glow-in-the-dark ring. Breakfast in the morning would be a full English at the Red Barn to try to soak up the booze from the night before.

Braunton — mandatory stop on the way home for excellent chips and a chicken burger which was a whole chicken breast on a bun. When I think of how hungry Moth and Ray were on their walk, this makes me feel bad! Moth and Ray catch a bus in Braunton when their route is interrupted by army training.

Clovelly- we only visited Clovelly once — I’d love to go back! It’s a real village in that people live there, but also like a living museum. It was so interesting, it really gave you a feeling of what it may have been like to have been a fisherman in the not too distant past. The donkeys that were used to bring the catch up the steep roads were lovely although these days their only job is to give rides to small children. In the book, there is a sense that the owner of the Clovelly estate is in some respects the bad guy. The theme of class in England and the perceptions of others is a theme in the book that I want to explore further.

As Moth and Ray cross the border into Cornwall, I leave my story, for now. Stay tuned for part 2 — Cornwall!

Join Scot Butwell, Klara Jane Holloway, The Sober Vegan Yogi, Janice Macdonald, C.A. Jaymes, Evon, Angie Mangino, Michael L Butler, Mary DeVries, Jane Kelley on the Salt Path…

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