Sundays River to Cannon Rocks

Warren’s son Paul flew in from Johannesburg to join us for a few days. We camped on the riverbank for a small fortune, with a noisy bunch of fishermen and campers as neighbours. Today was the first paddling day that didn’t start with a cup of coffee – maybe why I was a little grumpy.

Leaving the river mouth was tricky, taking a few foamies on the chest before I found my gap. This stretch of coast is all spectacular sand dunes that give no real sense of progress, turning into a 5km run of cliffs just before Woody Cape, 41km into the day. Visibility was good and I could see Bird Island clearly. Rounding the bay’s northern point I came across my first real fin – a small hammerhead, then something bigger heading off the other way.

Coming into Cannon Rocks was tricky with the low tide and a 2.7m swell, but my spotters found me the best line. One of the trackers had stopped working, causing a bit of consternation among people following online. I was absolutely bushed. We set up camp on Fred Cresswell’s lawn – tomorrow, Cannon Rocks to Port Alfred, 37km.