New seas and new challenges. First port of call in the Mediterranean is La Atunara in the Province of Cádiz, Andalucia, Spain, just across the border from Gibraltar. Upon arrival I inspect the board and discover the slot flusher surface has broken away from the underside, exposing the now soggy inner core. Problem. I inspect town. Note the marijuana scented air. The shops are small windows in domestic houses selling crisps, sweets and, no doubt, contraband from Gibraltar and across the Straits. The only place for dinner is a kebab shop. I take refuge. The owner, who I guess is Moroccan, endures verbal abuse when an aggressive drunk discovers there is no alcohol available. I stick out like a sore thumb here. I feel more vulnerable than when at sea. I allow my brightly coloured EPIRB, attached to the strap of my backpack, to remain visible, hoping to transmit a signal of leave well alone, much as a frog might use bright colours to warn off predators in the natural world. Safety is at a fishing club in the harbour, where I pass the night with the security guards. They catch sorrel, invite me to share in their barbecued fish and drink beer until the small hours. Good people living in a difficult place.