Sun shining, great morning of dry kit and ahead of me some huge checkpoints, Newbiggin by-the-Sea (home of ‘With land at our left boys), Seaton Carew (home to kayaking legend John Darwin), Tynemouth (no fog?) and Sunderland. The coastline now cliffs and industry, the noise of air traffic and cars suddenly replacing the bird chorus and silence of late.
Got moving well in tailwind, weather gods have been extremely kind to me this week and are a huge factor of the recent consistency. Perhaps startled by my 4+ knots, a puffin dropped its catch, I felt pretty bad about but they were all catching well. Got a little carried away in the following sea and probably ventured a bit too aerobic, equivalent to driving down the M6 in 3rd gear, expensive.
I didn’t crash but I did go a little flat and as I got to the Tyne I was screaming for a break. Stubbornly, I refused the detour for a landing and tried to ail my back and feet which are becoming pretty nasty with all the hours boat bound.
Tentatively targeted Seaham, tentative because at first glance it seems too urban to get away with landing and leaving the boat. I aborted my first beach landing on account of some lairy looking rocks and instead edged around the harbour to a quite secluded beach. There I hid the boat and left it under the watch of a trustworthy fisherman!
After a quick pilgrimage I was back at the tent when the police called by. They were totally onside and just suggested bringing in my kit. They also offered me a wake up call tomorrow which I gladly accepted.
Another car pulled up and a guy started chatting. I’m not saying it was Gazza, but it looked like him and he told me he was a depressive called Paul…