The sea was undulating with 20- to 25-foot swells, visibility was down to approximately 100 yards and it was very quiet. The only noise was from the 'splash', 'splash' of my blades going into the water, and then suddenly there was a 'splosh.' I was puzzled as to where this other sound was coming from. After about five minutes I managed to angle the kayak in such a way that I could see behind me. Lo and behold there was a huge dorsal fin! As I looked to the left of my cockpit I saw the head of a killer whale directly below me. My initial reaction was to paddle to the right to get away and to shake it off. Believe it or not, the whale followed me. So I then paddled to the left-it stayed with me. I then paddled in a circle but it still stayed with me. After what seemed like a long time, I stopped paddling and shouted, "Get lost!" and to my amazement, it did!
The consequences of being upended by a whale would be disastrous, because it could severely damage the boat.

The Canadian Coast Guard informed me (through Jim) that I was too far north. For a very long time now, the current was keeping me going northwards as opposed to south. This was making me very anxious because I was in an Icelandic current and not the Gulf Stream, which is where I had hoped to be. If I continued to drift north, I was afraid I would miss Ireland altogether and be heading towards more treacherous waters. Luckily the winds changed to north-westerlies, which helped to steer me back on course.

Loaded up for shipping to Newfoundland.

Jim informed me that he was going to Ireland to find a number of uitable options for potential landing spots during the last two weeks of my 'expected' arrival. One of them was Killybegs.
While he was there, he warned me that the fishing fleet was outward bound and to be careful over the next few days.

Two hundred miles from Ireland, paddling in a Force five or six, I sighted my first ship after many weeks of no human contact. As I paddled towards it, I saw that it was the deep-sea fishing boat Mendoza. As I neared the vessel, I saw the captain come out of the bridge with his binoculars. Judging by his reaction, he could not believe what he saw; he dragged his first mate out to witness and confirm that he wasn't going mad. I approached and paddled around the boat. Seeing the crew hauling in the catch, I shouted, "Good morning!" Their faces were a picture and they kept looking at each other, pointing at me in total disbelief.