I woke up this morning with a headache. Maybe I didn’t drink enough last night. I tried to make up for it.
I paddled the glassy smooth waters between the mainland and the archipelago. I crossed a bay, then continued under rocky precipi and forests. Small bays with sandy beaches broke up the rugged coastline, and as force four headwinds crushed my pace, I hugged the coast as tightly as possible. Any temporary escape from the wind was a good one.
The wind died down.
Yesterday I ate my last cracker package. I haven’t been able to find them in Greece, so I switched to whole grain toast-like bread. I ate one slice an hour, until I crashed.
I had no energy. Every stroke, even on the clear blue flat water, was a colossal struggle. One struggle at a time, I pushed forward. I increased my toast dosage by 50%. Slowly, some of my strength came back.
I paddled through rock gardens and in tight spaces between islands and the mainland. Tiny fish leapt out of the water ahead of me.
I was still really tired, so I paddled up to an anchored boat in a bay to ask how far. A canopy on polls covered the small fishing boat. Soothing Greek music floated over the water from a radio. A hefty bald man with a big white mustache slept in a chair, slumped against the closed door of the tiny cabin. I called “ahoy”, but not loudly enough to wake him.
I continued on my way.
With much relief I pulled into Parga’s pristine bay. I had only paddled 13 miles, but I was more than ready to call it a day.
I’ll be here for the Sabbath. I really hope I find a shower.
[gallery type="rectangular" ids="4033,4041,4045,4050,4052"]
Miles paddled: 13
Current location: 39.281317,20.388068