The End of the Trip
I was up with the sun, feeling much better but still very stiff.
The sun warmed the soil very quickly and during the night all the wet stuff had completely dried. Some items had blown away when the wind had picked up but I was camped at the foot of the hills and everything was laying nearby. The light stuff had blown into the bushes and was caught in the branches so I had not lost anything. I ate my last hard boiled eggs, threw the last slices of bread to the gulls and pulled my kayak to she shoreline. I had to pack right next to the water since pulling a fully loaded kayak more than 100ft across pebbles was not something I wanted to do. There was only a slight wind when I put into the water and I could see Santa Rosalia clearly, about 6 miles away. I decided to take the shortest route, a direct line to the lighthouse which is at the entrance to the harbor.
The wind starting picking up strength and before I knew it I was paddling in very similar conditions as the day before; a strong southeasterly wind; quartering seas and a very confused wave pattern. I decided to paddle as close to the shore as possible and not to push myself the way I had done the day before. The paddle was coming to an end and although I had no desire to paddle again in these conditions, I also had no desire to end the paddle.
It took me about three hours to finally paddle into the marina and into calm water. I found a spot near some sailing yachts where I was helped pull my kayak out of the water and on to the jetty where I met some great people, Susan Scott and her friend from Hawaii and Mark and Vicki Reed from Oregon, all of whom showed a great deal of interest in my paddle and the tortoise shells in particular.
After 73 days, the paddle was over.
Then, I stood on the jetty and started to organize my stuff and get ready to take the bus home. What an anti climax.