I wake up around 7 with the sun burning on my tent. I feel lucky that commodore Alastair had given me a key fob to the Herne bay sailing club, I really need to pee. I slip on my shoes and scramble out of the tent, only to find out that the key fob doesn’t work!

One of the things I really like about Britain is that there are public toilets everywhere. One of them is only five minutes away from the club. On my way there, I try to figure out how I can get in touch with someone who runs the club, as I had left my tablet in the house to charge.

Chatting to Alastair, the friendly commodore of the club the day before, we had incidentally found out that he had done some work as an advisor for Cressingham gardens estate. One of our Nordic walkers, Gerlinde, heads the residents’ association. I was just about to send her a text to find out if she had his number, when the door to the club house opened.
David, second in command in the club, had decided to get up early to help me get my kayak back on the wooden slipway. How nice is that? In the meantime, he put the kettle on to make me a tea, patiently waited for me to finish my breakfast, get my gear ready and packed in the boat.

When I was finally done, the slipway proved its name worthy. My precious kayak slid right down and nearly went off by itself! I just managed to grab it by a toggle. Friendly Dave then offered to hold the boat while I got in. What a great start of the day. It is such a nice feeling to be waved off by a new friend.

The paddle started good too. I had the tide and the wind in my back and by noon I swung around Margate. So, I am now officially out of the Thames Estuary, on the North sea. The compass now points south.

Unfortunately, the wind seemed to have swung around too, and it now blew in my face. A bit harder work, but still, I got to Ramsgate harbour without too much trouble. After Ramsgate Pegwell bay widens into a shallow but very wide bay. Straight across seemed like a long way, so I headed slightly inland.

If you like long sandy beaches I can thoroughly recommend Pegwell bay, but if you are a kayaker, you might agree with me that long, sandy beaches are pretty boring. Or should I say very meditative? The light and the clouds were amazing though, so I kept myself occupied by admiring those.

Finally, on the other end, the Sand gave way to an incredibly steep shingle beach. Not the easiest kind of beach to land on with a kayak. And it went on for miles!

The local intel from Herne Bay Sailing club was that the Sailing club in Deal was friendly and most likely had someone around. They had explained how to find it, but they hadn’t mentioned that in order to get to the club, I would also have to land on that steep shingle beach. After my experience that morning trying to stop my heavy kayak from slipping down the slipway, I didn’t fancy trying to get my boat up that slope. I pushed on, trying to find a better spot to land.

Kingsdown bay had the first beach that looked doable. Still steep, but not as high as the ones before. When I paddled closer to try and get a better view, a friendly young local dog walker offered to help me get the kayak up past the flood line. My tent now stands in the middle of a field of daisies, overlooking the white cliffs. I couldn’t have found myself a prettier spot.

I recognise the spot immediately. A few months ago, when my friend Liz and I came back from Switzerland, I had seen an advertisement poster from the Kent tourism board on the ferry. A man and a woman walk with a kayak in front of the prettiest pub I have ever seen. I had loved it so much I had taken a photo, vowing that I would once visit that beach. Without knowing, I had landed on my dream beach!

This is the first time I am paddling wild and I am feeling a bit self-conscious. Where should I put up my tent so it is not so conspicuous? The shingles aren’t an easy underground to get my pegs to hold either. I finally decide on a field of daisies. The bush behind it shields my tent a bit from view from the houses.

No luck. A man walks up to me, telling me this is a private beach and that it is strictly forbidden to camp here. “Would you have any idea where I could put my tent up instead around here?” I ask in my most polite voice. “I am a bit tired”. “You can’t camp here, you should have known, there are signs everywhere by the road”. His voice sounds gruff and authoritative, like I imagine a colonel would sound like. “Ehm, I am afraid I didn’t see them”, I answer, “I didn’t come from the road!”. “Then where did you come from?”, he asked incredulously. I point at the sea. “I started in Herne Bay today. I am on an expedition and started in London 4 days ago.” “Is that kayak yours?” He asks. The transformation of his face and posture is incredible. “Right Oh”, he says. “I have no idea what I am complaining about”. “Goodbye and good luck”, he turns around and vanishes from sight as fast as he had appeared.

Feeling a bit more relaxed about my illegal camping spot, I check out the pub after dinner. It is heaving, but I find a spot on the bar and manage to persuade the landlord to charge my batteries while I manage to send this story to you.

Sleep well, everyone!

Distance paddled: 48 km / 30 m / 26 Nm