After tea in Margate, Mum and Dad headed home leaving me alone. Camping didn’t get off to a great start with a snapped tent pole and the rookie error of getting caught by the tide. Spring tides so the whole beach was swamped and I moved my boat and tent to the concrete slipway above at 11pm. Managed to bodge a repair of my tent pole at least.

I woke up at 4.30 to catch the tide. Tough first hour out through choppy waves around my first corner of Britain. When I first sat in the boat it just didn’t move, muscles very sore from day before. Still, glad I got that crossing out of the way whilst fresh, wouldn’t want it weighing over me for the end of the trip. That should instead be pretty straightforward along the Norfolk coast. Good confidence booster too.

I decided to go very gently today, injury always a risk if you start too hard. I wasn’t sure how to train for this challenge, it’s so long. My theory is that the only way is to adapt during it. The weeks leading up to it were spent preparing, and I had no time to train anyway.

Around the corner in the English channel, the waves were softer and I tapped towards Dover. Approaching Dover Harbour past the white cliffs I switched on my vhf and listened to the conversations. I love how the strict etiquette of vhf makes such a simple tool so effective. I never even switched my VHF on during my europe adventure, just carrying it in case of emergency really. Ask for forgiveness, not permission is a motto of mine when it comes to people who love rules and abuse their power. But I thought I should practise so asked the coastguard for permission to cross the Harbour entrance. “Dover port authority handles permissions, call channel 7”. No answer on 7 so I kept paddling until I saw the number 74 painted on the port authority control hut. The dude suggested I paddle in one entrance and out the other. Now came the funny bit. I heard him say “hi Dave, Kayak is coming through the Harbour, I’ve given him permission, can you check he is ok”. Next moment Dave comes roaring up to me shouting “what are you doing? Have you got permission because dude is trying to talk to you?”. A load of bullshit but at least I didn’t get run over by a ferry.

The tide had now spun and I struggled along the harbour wall to a beach. Need a new source for tidal data as mine was wrong again. Lots of Albanians fishing off the beach, I bathed in the sun, what wonders it worked. Had a nap and did a bit of blogging but wasn’t really in the mood to write, couldn’t see my phone in the sun. Appetite coming back after yesterdays sickness is good news.

Colin, who had followed my last trip, had been watching my tracker and came over to say hello. “I live near Dungeness, if you need anything tonight, just shout”. I got some useful local knowledge off him then packed up to head across to Dungeness.

If these trips were painful and hard and challenging the whole time I wouldn’t do them.True, I do have a little chafing on a delicate part of my body that stings with excruciating pain until my nociceptors gave up. I’ll have a scrotum like rhino hide by the end of this. But the 30kms across to Dungess was awesome, flying downwind with the tide, surfing along in the sun. A joy to be on a lively but forgiving sea, out on the green waves, salt on my face. I averaged 12.5 kmh to Dungeness, this strange desert like point sticking out to sea. Indeed, it is apparently Europe’s only desert.

The wind was blowing across it and felt chilly so I had to slog against the tide to find shelter. Around 8pm I came to Jury’s gap where Colin and his family were waving. It was lovely to see friendly faces at the end of my day and Colin helped me up the beach with my boat, restocking me with water too.