It was already getting hot when I left at 10.30. I didn’t want to wait until 3 pm for the tide to turn and it was only a small current so I paddled against it.

The water was flowing like a river around the Pointe du Raz and I had fun playing on a little standing wave. About a kilometre from the other side, I saw something break the glassy surface. A tuna, longer than me, sprang from the water, its body flashing in the sun, caudal fin unmistakable. I cried out in surprise and watched it leap several more times before it disappeared, leaving me with a smile on my face.

The tide felt much stronger than predicted so I stopped in a little cove to wait for it to turn. I walked along the baking tarmac into Plogoff and sat in the shade of a fig tree at the village crêperie. A couple on bikes arrived and two elderly french ladies sat next to me, chatting animatedly and sipping on expressos. Full of crêpe au chèvre and frites, I had visions of my boat floating off, despite knowing I’d placed it way above the high tide line. I couldn’t help but run back, my imagination running wild. Sure enough, my boat was fine.

I left at 3 with the tide and headed across the bay, the sun beating down through the windless air. Three of four dolphins crossed my path, arching silently. Wonderful.

After about an hour, a headwind picked up and my speed dropped. On my right, the bay stretched into the distance, seemingly forever. When it became monotonous I reminded myself how grateful I am to be doing this, that there’s nowhere I’d rather be. I imagined I was living in a new reality where I had to paddle forever, going nowhere, just paddling against the flow like a treadmill. Mind tricks like this tell my brain to stop thinking about finishing paddling and reaching the destination. I shift from thinking about when the effort will end to just accepting the effort.

After a solid 4 hours of headwind, I reached the Phare d’Eckmühl. The sun became softer and I landed on my beach for the night.