These days, it seems like I spend as much time drying gear as I spend paddling. I am starting to understand that what makes a long trip in the UK hard is not do much the paddling itself, but the work it takes to keep your gear comfortable and in working order.

The salt of the sea covers your clothes and prevents them from drying. Out on day trips, we like to dunk our gear in fresh water after a day of kayaking to get the salt out. On a long trip like this, a bucket of fresh water is not always available, let alone dry weather to allow it to dry before the next day.

In my search for a big breakfast in Norman bay yesterday, I hadn’t taken the time to wash out my gear. Coming back in the evening, everything was still as wet as it was the night before. I decided to make use of the campsite’s washing facilities to give everything a good rinse, but the laundry room closed before I could use the dryer.

Waking up this morning the sun was shining and a fresh breeze was just what I needed. I quickly got up, put all the wet stuff over the fence next to my tent and went back to bed for some more sleep. High tide was at 11.40 that day, and that was when the tides would start flowing in south westerly direction, so I had oodles of time.

When finally everything is packed in my Ikea bags and the boat is strapped onto its trolley, Em comes out of the camping office. She had been working at reception when I arrived, and had asked a million of questions about kayaking and the trip I was making. And now she and her partner Luke are here offering to help me get all my gear and the kayak back to the sea. It is starting to become a theme on this trip; I keep being surprised by the kindness of the people I meet.

An hour or so later I round Eastbourne and the cliffs of Beachy head start to shape up. I decide to land for a pee- and lunch break, before the committed paddle along Beachy head and the Seven Sisters. I know there won’t be anywhere to land for a couple of hours.

I am sitting on a rock eating my wraps, enjoying the view, when Pete walks by. He stops for a chat and tells me that the limestone cliffs are filled with water. If you know where to look, you can find perfectly drinkable fresh water springs to refill your water bottles.

I had been a bit apprehensive about the wind and the state of the sea I would find around Beachy head. The wind is blowing fresh in my face, but the sea is calm.

The views are absolutely breath-taking. The cliffs are even whiter than the ones in Dover and feel much higher. There are no words to describe how beautiful these cliffs are. The chalk in the sea turns it into a milky grey green and the blue sky forms a wonderful contrast to the white of the cliffs. Beachy head light house is a perfect red and white striped lighthouse. It is huge, but it seems small in comparison to the cliffs behind it.

People walking around on the top look like tiny dots. My stomach turns, seeing how close some people stand by the edge, apparently making selfies.

The sea is calm enough to paddle between the lighthouse and the cliffs, but by the time I am paddling along the Seven Sisters the sky and the sea turn grey and the wind picks up. The waves are still small but are gaining power. I have to pay a bit more attention to what is happening below me.

The tide is supposed to be pushing me, but all day, I hadn’t felt any help from the tide. For a moment I wonder if I had timed it right, but the wind must have just been stronger than the tide.

Seaford comes into view, but the is surf turns the sea white and I keep my distance. At the end of Seaford bay the harbour walls of Newhaven look safe and strong. When I approach the harbour the Ferry to Dieppe comes out. The turning tides create a fun little wave in the harbour channel. The Marina opens up to my left, my best bet for the night.

I ask one of the skippers where the office is. He points it out to me, but tells me it is now closed for the day. Then he points to a horse van and tells me to go and ask there.

Gaz comes out of his lorry before I even get there. Apparently, the skipper called him on his mobile to warn him. After helping me lift my heavy kayak out of the water and all the way up, Gaz and his pet duck (yes, you read that right) walk me to the boatyard. I don’t think I would have been able to get my kayak up to the boatyard without Gaz’s help.

We haven’t even made it up there when he tells me I will probably have to stay two nights; a storm is on its way. But I don’t need to worry. Gaz gives me the code to the gate and Gaz’s wife shows me the showers.

What a warm welcome for a soaking wet kayaker!

Distance paddled: 30 km/ 18 m/ 16 Nm