I spent the morning on my island stretching in the nude, sunning places where the sun doesn’t normally shine. Let’s hope the tourists on the tour boats didn’t have binoculars!

At midday, I carried all my stuff to the water’s edge and loaded my boat. I paddled out through a maze of rocks to the Phare des Héaux de Bréhat. The tide rushed between them like a river and I walked one section of rapids.

Looking right, a jumble of rocks lay along the shore, windows of sand peeking between them. Part of me wished to explore every little cove and island, wander through every village. Maybe I should just slow down, stay in France? Missing out is always at the back of my mind.

Instead, I paddled across towards Perros Guirec, waves building behind me. The adventure is on the water too and I enjoy the sense of achievement of covering greater distances. Also watching the changes in landscape, culture, people.

I got lost in the downwind, focused on chasing waves, my mind stayed still. I passed a man clambering aboard his boat, wetsuit clad and speargun in one hand. As the tide fell, rocks breached around me and the kelp below came in to view.

Arriving at Trebeurden, I pulled my boat to the watersports centre and showered. I explored the town, its streets alive with beeping horns and boisterous teenagers roaring about on their mopeds. The air had a beautiful scent, of what, I’m not sure. For me, it’s the smell of France. The dusty streets baked in the evening sun and tour de France posters hung in shop windows. I walked to the top of a rocky crag overlooking the bay below. In the darkness, the rocks looked alive and surreal. I decided to sleep there.

Tomorrow (Sunday 29th) I will have a rest day. I feel my body is adapting well but it’s important I continue to build into this.