So much to tell. I travelled from Portugal to Italy, feeling free but alone, my friends now gone.

I went straight to CUS Bari and sorted out my kit. Antonio and Mimmo, two of the most generous men you’ll ever hear of, had booked me a hotel. I questioned whether I’d do the same – would you?

They’ve done so much for me, and the best I could do was to treat them to the same seafood and tiramisu they’d treated me to in August. My last meal in Italy, I savoured every mouthful.

I went for a walk along the deserted seafront, beach clubs boarded up, the promise of winter hanging in the air. A different city to when I visited last. Sitting on a shingle beach amongst beer cans and broken glass, I stared out to sea at a couple of ships chugging along, pumping out ugly grey streams of smoke. The cold wind blew against my face and I let it chill me, revelling in the wretched misery of the mood. I don’t know why. Of course it wasn’t really awful, and in the morning the sun was shining. Sometimes I like to indulge in the desperation of the world.

My kit ready, Mimmo and Antonio drove me down the road to the ferry terminal for the 19:30 departure to Igoumentisa, a small town in Greece 20kms south from the Albanian border. As close to the ferry as permitted, we loaded my kayak on its trolley and I said farewell to these two kind souls. I thought there may be issues getting my boat on board, but no one looked twice as I wheeled it up the car ramp and in to an alcove next to some mopeds.

Truck drivers up on deck chain smoked and drank, yelling greetings to their mates as they came aboard. A girl from Hamburg was traveling around Europe with a violin in her backpack, now getting the ferry to Patras and staying with her uncle in Athens. We played cards until I had to go to sleep, my throat burning, nose streaming. I lay on the carpet sweating feverishly, littering the floor around me with piles of snotty tissues.

We pulled in to Igoumentisa at 5.30 am and I set foot in Greece for the first time in my life. How exciting. Lorries roared past me beeping their horns and I whooped at the lack of health and safety.

A slight issue getting my boat through the sliding doors of the ferry terminal and I was out on the street, heading towards the nearest beach before the road got busy. Stopping at a bakery, I sat on a stool outside and ate a deliciously warm and oily feta and spinach pastry. Mmmm to be in Greece.

The sky lightened and the mountains revealed themselves in their grandure. I arrived at my beach and a postcard and pack of paracetamol later, was ready to launch. The sun was shining and my winter gear was all squeezed in to the holds, shorts and t-shirt donned instead.

The allure of Corfu tempted me, and I decided to paddle around the more interesting looking Western side of the island. The exercise cleared my nose, but I took things gently, still feeling pretty rough.

Out of the bay and along a beautiful rocky shore I drifted, before heading 10kms across to Corfu.

Even on this crossing I felt vulnerable, and I thought about the person I was when I crossed the Gulf of Taranto. Half way across a dot appeared, which quickly grew bigger. A hydrofoil ferry was speeding towards me, and I didn’t know which way to go. I turned around and paddled frantically, visions of getting chopped up by the blades beneath the water filling my mind. It passed by and I carried on, adrenaline pumping. I wonder if they had seen me.

I paddled along the dramatic cliffs of Corfu and made camp on a small sandy headland, a cluster of rocks on one side, honeycomb cliffs on another, and sea on either side. Thunderstorms were forecast and I knew it, but as I smugly set up my brand new tent, I wasn’t worried. Around 23:00 the wind has really picked up, and I put heavy rocks on my pegs to keep them solid. 3 hours later the lightning started flashing around me, great bolts cracking across the sky and striking the sea. Nowhere worse to be than in a tent on the beach. The story of Jerry’s lightning strike echoed in my head and I ran from my tent to the cliff, sheltering in an alcove from the rain for the next 3 hours. Paranoid? Maybe, but no one ever thinks they’ll be struck by lightning.