Current port 42.62057,3.041158
After I finished putting up yesterday’s post I had a conversation with the bar tender. It turned out that he himself was a kayaker and a member of the local kayaking club. He showed me their facebook page and I made an effort to invite people to paddle with me the next day. Unfortunately, I didn't quite do it right and the invitation never got out.
10/28/10 Day 9:
I woke up this morning after a warm night’s sleep in my new sleeping bag. That was good.
Ike was missing his head. Maybe he took yesterdays failure a bit too seriously and offed himself.
I began my paddle with one of the most beautiful sunrises I've seen yet. The fiery dawn was framed by the dark rocky outcroppings on either side of the bay as well as bizarre monoliths at the bay’s center.
The water was calm and I made good time around the large peninsula I’d camped on. Pulling between islands at its north east corner (42.321747,3.319244) I began crossing at a large diagonal rather then heading due west along the shore.
I got confused on account of not having a compass and misjudging the distance of the huge mountains that mark the mainland north of the peninsula. After several hours of crossing I asked a passing sailor and was ecstatic to find out I was in France. I sang about being in France for about an hour.
Some of my lyrics include:
“I'm in France, I'm in France, I'm entirely in France.”
“France is so much more French then Spain.”
There were more. I also reviewed my French lexicon.
Corporal, Guillotine, Non, Messieur, and so on.
I ate a lunch on the water, taking a couple of five minute breaks. At 3:00 I pulled into Port Vendres 42.516524,3.106728 and had a look around at my first French town. It was 3:00 and every one was on siesta. I was not yet far enough away from Spain.
The coastline in France is different from Spain’s. In Spain red cliffs jutted up out of the water, and then went into hill country. In France there are mountains. Giants with snowy peaks looking over the sea. When they do fall off suddenly in cliffs they are a dark gray stone with grass holding on wherever it can.
I tried fishing with Moe, a much bigger lure then Jake, the last surviving member of the previous batch. Unlike his predecessors, Moe swam beneath the surface, that is, until the fishing line got all tangled on the back of my boat and he became useless.
After my break I hoped to make it to Canet Plage, but even with a helpful wind I ended up pulling into Saint Cypryen Plaig as temperatures dropped with the setting sun and I was anxious to get off the water.
Tomorrow I should make it the short distance to Canet Plage where I will begin my land journey to Perpignon to which my care package should arrive.