Around the most southerly Point

Last two days were very exciting and lots of stuff happened. Firstly we left the warm welcome of Andy Midlife’s house to camp on a wet field in force 8, we couldn’t do anything else than to survive, and so we did.
Finally the day came and we could leave. That day we reliazed that starting to paddle late during the day is not our cup of tea. It doesn’t matter what time we leave, I get tired by 3pm and everything after that is a bother, so starting at noon doesn’t give us lot of pleasant time. Needing to use the lavatory (love this word) we stopped at surf beach and not really paying attention I could show to present group of kayakers how to swim around Britain. They were fine about it, fished me out, and we reliazed that their leader was Martin, a former member of Tower Hamlets Canoe Club, who moved to Falmouth a while ago. It is a small world.

We did not stop at St Andrew’s lighthouse to regroup with other circumnavigators and continued at our pace. The conditions in the bay were a bit choppy and I found them hard and tiring and everything was wrong. Fortunately this changed later and we had great evening paddle to Cadwith.

There we camped on the only available spot, by the look out bench. Now this village has very sophisticated pub where they sell take away pints in take away containers, so dinner had extra ingredient. Bliss.

Next day we agreed that morning paddles are our cup of tea and got up early to leave at 7 am, failing to achieve that, due to our slowness and fishermen launching their boats, we left at 8. Lizzard Point, the most southerly point, was quiet, little bit choppy, some swell but all together a piece of cake.

We arrived at Mullion and met many many people. Let me list. We met the MK circumnavigators who were waiting for their film crew. You are reading it right, a film crew. So after inviting ourselves into their house, nearly gate crashing their leaving party, we managed to get our five minutes of fame and their cameras pointing at us, too.
We also met a local historian called Bob Felce who told us mainly about the first sail from Boston to Lizard at the end of 19th. century.
We also had a chat with owner of local cafe, the pasties we ate were made by a Frenchman, he said.

Then we left straight for Lamorna. Crossing was almost uneventful. Only the navy helicopter kept flying quite low above our heads and we had a close encounter with a fisherman. He was obviously heading home, letting the boat lead the way, a bit like cowboys used to do with their horses when returning from a bar. Obviously he wasn’t looking, minding his own business, fish, but kept approaching fast from behind. You can’t compete with an engine, Michal started whistling and I was waiting for the crash. He saw us in last minute and jumped to steer the boat away, it was very close. I then needed about half hour to reach normal heart beat again.
Then we reached Lamorna, but decided to go as far as Portgwarra since we like it there better.










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