Whooa what a day. I can honestly say paddle to the madder side of the loom. The day started early getting on the water at 6am in thick fog with 50m visibility. This put a different edge on the plan for the day. We paddled round and out the bay at Manorbier hugging the coast following the line of site instead of straight across to Stackpole Head this took its time and we arrived a little late at Stackpole Head. We had attempted to contact the ranges to tell them we were a little late but no joy. Onwards we paddled. The rocks ever changing looking like charcoaled logs Sandwiched between sea and soil.


Making it to Stackpole Head there was a little too much chop to paddle through the hole. The Guillemots and Razorbills flying off the rocks like something from a sci-fi film, spaceships off on a mission. The sea state had changed after Stackpole Head getting a little rough but visibility had cleared slightly. It was becoming apparent we wouldn’t make the eta but we peristed.
The chop combined with race, swell and clapotice was making this a day to remember I like using the returning wave to push me along. Digging deep senses switched on. This is fun.
Moving past the chapel, somewhere I had been many moons ago. I had only seen most of the coast from the top and some familiar points pass. Looking into caves and still being in wonderment at the climbing grades round here.
The range boat turned up and said about towing us. This was a definite negative. I wasn’t nor was Katie prepared to get a tow. That was it I was off. Now knowing Katie had an escorts boat I was off trying to get good speed in case we were stopped. This became an epic paddle the clapotice the swell and the race putting all the switches on. Great stuff. By the time I had gotten to Linney Head the tide was going for it. I was slightly ashamed for leaving my team mate behind but couldn’t help myself. There was no time to stop. I made it past the headland and was trying to stay in one place but the tide was mad. I backed down to Katie. She Is great fun and has guts.
Across another bay past Freshwater West towards Angle Sheep Island in the distance looked like a child draped in cloth and the noise of the ranges in the background reminded me of the futility of war.
  We were both really feeling the strain of the morning and all we could talk about was food and sleep. Keeping positive is always the best thing to do in these situations so laughing off the blues is always on.
We pulled into Angle both feeling the days exploits. Had a lovely meal and was pleasantly surprised at the generosity of a lady called Vanessa, she let us use her garden and even washed some of our clothes. Then if that wasn’t enough took us to the campsite. Brilliant. So we cleaned ourselves off and went to the pub with a warm fire. My kip mat is waiting and sleep will be welcomed with aching arms.


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