Just as I was making preparations for sleep a man approached me cautiously, as if I was some kind of wild animal, and told me this was a dangerous beach to sleep on. It was deserted and seemed fine to me, but I still slept a little restlessly.

In the morning I raced to write my blog before the sun stole the shadow I was sheltering in. I write slowly, pausing to reflect, and sometimes it can feel like a chore, but I like that writing forces me to think and it clarifies my muddled thoughts.

I’ve always written diaries on my adventures. It began with documenting a trip to Exeter on the train (1 hour from my house!), back when that was exciting. This is the first time I’ve shared my diary, and I’m enjoying the connecting with people through my writing.

In fact, I’ve been thinking lately that this trip is all about connection, on so many different levels. Connection with my body through the physicality of paddling for hours on end and connection with my mind, from hours of solitary reflection. A connection with my evolutionary past, from employing the instinct of survival each day – to find water, make shelter, navigate the seas is to be self-reliant . I think this instinct is there in all of us, and it’s important not to lose connection with something so deeply ingrained. And then there’s connecting with people through this blog and everyone I meet along the way.

When I said writing clarifies my mind, to what extent is that true? Perhaps I feel muddled and ask the question ‘why am I doing this adventure?’. I then come up with this theory that’s it’s all about connection, and feel at peace now that I have an explanation. But really I’ve just convinced myself of this, told myself it’s true. You can make sense out of something in innumerable ways, but that’s not to say any of them are actually true. We’re always seeking explanations, reasons why, the truth, the reality. It’s impossible to find, but we can find comfort in tricking ourselves to believe we’ve found it.

Over the last few weeks I’ve had so many thoughts become coherent enough for me to express them in words, that I want to share, but just reporting the daily events has taken up enough space on the page. I guess I’ll have to wait for a day when nothing happens.

So to today. After a crosswind along the beach, I reached another stunning headland of soaring cliffs, studded with caves. The wind died and I felt overheated and weak, so I stopped in San Felice Circeo, walked a mile to a supermarket and sat on a shady roadside verge to cook up some mince. Leaving at six, I continued to Tor Canneto, a serene little beach below a campsite.

Diabetes

Back to a low carb diet and levels stable with just 3 units of levemir and 2 of novorapid.

Some people may remember the series of boulangerie photos as I searched for France’s best pastry on the first chapter of this trip, and wonder how that impacted my diabetes. Back then my pancreas was still producing some insulin, so I had to inject less for every gram of carbohydrate than I do now that my immune system has probably destroyed pretty much all the beta cells in my pancreas.

That made dosing much easier, and I could eat more carbs and still have good levels. Or at least that was true at the beginning of the trip. By the end my pancreas had deteriorated and my levels were awful!