My tent stinks of fish, which is odd since I never catch any. But at least it got a clean when a wave flooded in, waking me with a start, at 5am.

I decided to crack on whilst the air was cool, and I studied the wave pattern whilst eating a tub of Greek yogurt and almonds. Short steep waves were breaking on my beach and I with a rush of adrenaline I seized a gap and launched unscathed.

Rounding Punta Chiappa, the impressive cliffs of the Portofino national Park were revealed. A decent sized swell was reflecting off the cliffs making the sea wibble wobble, and I soon felt sea sick, for the first time since I began last August. I endured an hour of nausea, concentrating on the Portofino lighthouse and believing things would improve when I got there.

I blame that sickness on not paddling on the sea for 7 months, tiredness, weird conditions, and a fatty breakfast. Hopefully I get my sea legs soon.

The usual fleet of mega yachts were anchored up in Portofino, and I paddled around the corner to a stunning little cove, admiring the dream homes perched above with steps winding down the cliffs through the shubery to the crystal clear water. The sea is so lovely that I can’t help but let out a sigh of delight when I dive in.

I swam, blogged and slept until midday, then set out across the bay to Sestri Levante. A gusty offshore picked up and I was reminded how quickly it changes on the Med. The heat was perfectly comfortable. As I passed Sestri Levante, I wondered what I was missing out on. This always bugs me, because every location has potential if you slow down to give it a chance.

So what potential do these towns have? They’re all the same right? Apart from the odd site of cultural interest, they’re just a population of people, plus the butcher, baker and candlestick maker. I thought about this and well, sometimes it can feel like that, and that makes travel feel pointless. But for me I think it’s the people I may meet and the emotions the mood of the place may invoke. That’s what I’m scared of missing.

I consoled myself with the fact that I love the very act of paddling too, and since I felt good, I kept going past a few headlands to Moneglia, bringing my days total to 35km.

After a bit of negotiation and some new Italian vocab I secured a safe spot for my boat on a private beach and wandered around this small town popular with German tourists.

Diabetes

I ran intentionally high overnight, scared of injecting too much and my newly inserted dexcom not waking me. I trended down on the paddle and had a slurp of honey to bring me back up. I had 2 more slurps when the trend didn’t reverse but then went up to 16 once I’d come ashore. Thus a rollercoaster has started. I injected too much as a correction, then ate too much Foccacia to correct that. Hopefully things even out today as I try to work out how much insulin I need now that I’m paddling for several hours a day.

I’d planned on a low carb strategy, but I’ve decided against it for reasons I’ll write a whole blog about.