You never know where someone is sleeping, it may be very near by. This is the perspective that sleeping rough has given me. Last night I slept sandwiched between two fishing boats on the quay, shrouded in the shadows just metres from people strolling by. The restaurant across the road from me was still buzzing well past midnight, and I woke up with the arrival of the fisherman at dawn, so I didn’t get much sleep.

The town of Scilla is named after the dog-headed monster Scylla, that dwells in the rock upon which the fort sits atop of. Unlike Odysseus, I paddled past unscathed, and crossed the Strait of Messina for breakfast on Sicily. Even though I’m not circumnavigating Sicily as I’d originally planned, I had to set foot on the island, so I sat outside a church in Torre Faro eating my breakfast of avocado, mozzarella and prosciutto.

I don’t know what it was, but as soon as I set foot on Sicily I felt the charm of the place. Maybe it’s just because so many people have told me how wonderful it is. Still, it’s nice to leave some places unexplored for future trips – I’ll be back!

The Strait of Messina is about 2 miles wide at its narrowest point and has strong currents since it’s the meeting point of the Tyrrhenian sea to the north and the Ionian sea to the south. I left Sicily at midday to get maximum help from the tide, but this meant I had to navigate the constant stream of boats crossing the channel.

I put in a 10 minute effort to get in front of two container ships, approaching quickly with the tide, and trusted that the guys driving the passerelle, the strange looking boats used to catch swordfish, would spot me from the 30 metre high tower that the driver stands on. From this height he can see the swordfish, and chase after it, while another guy stands with the harpoon on a bridge extending out in front of the boat.

The tide really started ripping, and I was a little out of control as I sped towards the ferry terminal, but luckily I slipped past at a moment when the ferries were all loading with passengers.

I paddled away from Mount Etna, a trail of smoke puffing from its crater, and began to round the most southern point of mainland Italy. It’s hot here, the foothills barren and arid, the coast a continuous sandy beach, more kilometres with umbrellas than without.

In need of a decent night’s sleep, I stopped on a deserted beach near an abandoned cement factory, or something like that, and cooked up a courgette and red pepper omelette.

Diabetes

Very happy and feeling good to have broken a bad streak with a day of flat sugar levels!