I slept on a patch of sandy grass under a cluster of cedar trees by the beach. The wind blew all night long and was still blowing when I woke in the morning.

I walked in to the sleepy village centre for food. People looked at me suspiciously, holding their gaze for a couple of seconds after I’d looked away. Do I really look that feral already?

Meal times are a thing of the past and I no longer feel hungry at certain times of the day. My stomach has accepted it will get food when I can find it. I gorged on fruit, yoghurt, bread, tomatoes and cheese, and then lay in the sun, feeling rather sick.

I chatted with an OC1 paddler from Lyon and then got on the water. Strong crosswinds blew for the 8km across to Presqu’île de Crozon . My arms ached and I felt quite heavy. Two French navy patrol ships were circling the channel and one came and looped around me.

I had a relaxed paddle in the shelter of the cliffs, taking my time to admire some of the amazing stratification and lots of caves.

The wind then blew me across to the Pointe du Raz, even though I hadn’t planned on going that far today. Halfway across, the wind died and I was left with lovely mellow conditions. A butterfly visited me and we conversed for a while about our adventures. I wished her luck in finding land before she flew away. The cliffs were a lot further away than they appeared but I felt good, like I could’ve kept going forever.

Arriving at the beach, I met a man who proudly told me his father had been the lighthouse keeper on the notorious Pointe du Raz. He stayed out there for 2 weeks at a time, even through winter storms.

I’m now lying on the beach in my sleeping bag, watching that very lighthouse wink. I better put my tent up.