I woke up happy. I was clean and in a bed. I got out of bed and ached, a parting gift from the Headwind of Doom.
The marina had a community of sailboats. Happy sailors worked to update their sailing yachts from winter storage to summer sailing mode. Word had gotten around that the kayak that appeared yesterday on the dock had traveled very far, so I regaled enthusiastic fellow seamen with my stories of personal heroism.
The owners of the Gaia built their own 63-foot catamaran back in the 80s and invited me for a tour. It was a beautiful and sturdy boat. I wondered what it would be like to build a sailboat and sail the world. They could teach me. Maybe after my trip I’ll go find out.
After my stories and my tour and a trip to the supermarket, I had a really late start. But that was okay, the days are now sunny and long and full of joy.
I paddled out of the port down the two mile canal to the Gulf of Patras and then swung a left along the beach. Joy? More like ache.
Thirteen miles off, barely visible in the mist, were the four towers of the 1.5 mile suspension Rio bridge that separates the Patras gulf from the Corinth gulf. The bridge signified passing from peripheral Greece to central Greece.
I rolled through the clear water to cool down when I was warm. Despite the ache, I made good progress with a tailwind and current.
The towers were built like torches. The bridge was a victory arch. The enormity of the construction connected with the enormity of my adventure. The current carried me under the milestone and I celebrated.
I pulled up to a restaurant with a small dock and made camp behind. The owner was not receptive to my hints that I was open to additional hospitality. But I have water and am safe from weirdos. Tomorrow I’ll get an early start.
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Nautical miles paddled: 23.5
Current location: 38.309037,21.788715