I spent 15 minutes gathering up all the plastic on my little beach and stuffed it into a bag. The reward was finding a sealed bottle of water, still fizzy, that I actually needed, since I’d run out of water.

Walking up to the top of Port-Cros, I was in awe of the beauty of the island. I wondered what it is about a view that makes one feel this way. There must be more than meets the eye, something we can’t see.

I paddled along the shore of Île du Levant, passing a rusty ship outside the military base. My body felt sore and lacking in energy but there was nothing I could do but push on and have faith things would improve. If they didn’t, the day would eventually end anyway.

Halfway across to land, a yellow speed boat approached and a man on board told me to head North for 4 kilometres because I was in a military area. I grudgingly paddled North until they were out of sight and then resumed my course, feeling pretty sure I wasn’t in danger, and this was just red tape.

One of the highlights of the day was seeing a flying fish. It came out of the sea just ahead of me, and flew like a bird for about 100 metres!

I reached Cap Lardier after what seemed like an age, my bum dead and muscles still aching. I was relieved when some small bumps appeared that I could surf. The next few rocky headlands came quickly and soon I was paddling past the immaculate villas of Saint Tropez, and the superyachts moored beneath them.

The goal of the day was Saint Maxime, a town just across the bay from Saint Tropez, where the canoe club had offered its services. Arriving, the clubs’ president, Robin, met me and invited me back to his home. Thank you Robin and Edwige for a lovely bed and a hearty meal.