Perched on the edge of a 140 metre cliff overlooking the Rhone valley is the medieval Mornas fortress. It was already hot at 8 o’clock as walked through the small village in the shadow of the cliff and laboured up the trail to the fortress. I felt dizzy just standing near the cliff edge and really felt for the poor people who have been thrown off throughout history.

The service station was busy and I had only been holding up my sign for 5 minutes when three french girls pulled over in a small car. Still overheated from my walk up the hill, I was very conscious of the sweat pouring off me and despite the girls best efforts, it took a while for the AC to kick in. At least I’d managed to have a shower in the service station.

They were driving to Saint Maxime and dropped me at services where my luck continued when a Tunisian guy called Ali picked me up after 10 minutes. I pretended I knew about the premier league so as not to disappoint and chatted with his son on the phone to practise his English. Ali was delivering H&M clothes to Nice and left me at yet another service station.

I waited for a few hours and was losing hope, the stream of enormous black cars and gleaming sports cars from Switzerland and Monaco, driven mostly by men in stiff collared shirts, were flat out ignoring me. I’m not saying anyone should pick me, but it was interesting how it was another Tunisian man driving a cheap car that did.

I wasn’t sure if the bottle of Captain Morgans was a joke or not, but I was certainly happy to leave the car on the outskirts of Nice. Fatigue and hunger hit me and with no services nearby I decided to end my hitch hiking journey in Nice. I couldn’t face more walking and waiting under the baking sun, and had a sudden urge to get to the sea. Google maps says I’ve hitch hiked 1600km and its been great fun, but I’m looking forward to having a but more control over my movements in the kayak.

A bus ride took me to Savona, Italy, the town where I ended up in hospital last time. It was satisfying to look out the window and know I’d paddled this whole coastline. Savona was buzzing when I arrived, but I felt exhausted and just wanted a decent nights sleep. I didn’t feel safe on the public beach so hopped a fence onto one of the many private beaches and made camp between the neat rows of deckchairs. Revellers on the beach and the buzz if mosquitoes made for a broken nights sleep, but it’s wonderful to be back to the sound of the Med gently lapping against the shore.

Today I will visit Nicola, the hero that rescued my boat last time, and then I will get a train to Genoa. Blogs will resume when I start paddling.

Diabetes- nothing to report – all good!