I was determined to make it to Drummond Point today, and woke therefore early at 4.30am. But all I saw outside were fat flashes of lightening, continuously, and it was some rain coming up. The thunder was not far away at 5am, and I guessed no way I’m paddling in such weather, I’ll better turn around again and get some more sleep.

I actually called mentally already the whole day off…wishful thinking of an overtired and overworked mind and body. But it was actually plenty of fat flashes with a bit of thunder and rain, but no “thunderstorm”, the wind stayed low and the sea calm.

This is what I eventually realized when I woke again at 7.45 am…feeling guilty to have fallen asleep again and not having felt the drive to watch carefully what was really happen out there…well, the flashing and growling weather could still be back. And it was strong wind forecasted for the afternoon…the day looked muggy and the weather unsettled.

I called Pedro, the helpful fisherman from yesterday, for his weather gut feeling, but all he could say it is dead calm *now*…

At least I could still make it to Sheringa Beach that day, 40 km down the coast! This was the only sheltered landing in the cliff line, before Drummond Point.

I packed and launched in a hurry, how could I give already up on that day?

The paddle was all day close along the beautiful cliffs in calm wind first, then some moderate headwinds. It was quite an entertaining sight, actually, until the wide bay of Sheringa Beach opened up for a calm and safe landing in the left corner. Just when the flashing and growling thunder started again…good timing!

Pedro told me the bay’s entrance is guarded by a BIG WHITE, but I couldn’t see any…

I set up camp in a protected spot in the dunes, expecting some strong wind that afternoon. I checked on the facilities in the car park not far away, you never know if ther would be some rainwater tank or even a shower? They had a tank, but it said “no drinking”. But there was a big motorhome parked in a corner, and I knocked on the door, asking if they could spare three more liters of fresh water? I felt better to have filled up as much as possible for the next remote legs.

Margaret, a 65 year old adventurous lady living in the motorhome alone with her dog, was happy to help with some water and about chat. My stupid question if she is not scared alone in the van she was replying with “you are not scared either travelling alone, are you?”

I had just finished eating my dehy-dinner and was almost asleep already, when I heard a voice outside, asking:”Anybody home?” I was thinking this must be the guys from that other car fishing on the beach, who must have seen my boat.

But no, it was Gintaras, a friendly fellow paddler who drove out quite some km from his home just to find me for a chat, after he learnt from my website that I had left Elliot this morning. He was first waiting at Drummond Point, my original destination, but assumed correctly after that flashing weather this morning I may have not got that far and I must be here.

Text message from Freya via satellite phone:

33.52 135.10, Sheringa Beach. 40 km, 8:30 a.m. to 3:30 p.m. Fat thunder and lightning in  early morning, now again. Beautiful paddle along cliffs. No BIG WHITE.