Day 63: Munlochy - Balleigh

Today, it finally seemed like Daddy Edu was getting up a little less knackered. He's still not up to climbing Ben Nevis on one leg, but at least he doesn't look like a flu-ridden ghost anymore. The day started well: good weather, beautiful views, a little time in the sun next to the camper. I stretched out like an elegant lizard, and Edu did that weird thing of squinting his eyes and saying, "It's so nice here."

Around noon, we set off towards Chanonry Point, a place famous for dolphin sightings. There's a very photogenic white lighthouse there, a golf course, and a pay-and-display car park that costs three pounds for two hours. In theory, parking campers and vehicles where you can sleep isn't allowed... but our van-house with the shape of a shy Transformer doesn't count, right? We parked without any problems.

Now, the dolphins... ahem. Apparently, the best time to see them is just as the tide comes in, because the fish enter the estuary and the dolphins follow. We arrived when the tide was already going out, so... no fins, no splashes, no Flipper smiles. Nothing. Just a couple of frustrated humans staring at the water as if the power of their minds was going to summon cetaceans. Still, the walk along the beach next to the golf course was nice.

We continued the route north and stopped in a town that's actually cool: Rosemarkie. There, we left the car in the parking lot of the Fairy Glen Trail, an easy and well-signposted walk that follows an enchanted stream (well, enchanted if you believe in fairies). It has nothing to do with the dishwasher, I promise. The path goes up between trees full of moss, with small wooden bridges and lots of people—but not so many that we needed traffic lights or helmets. At the end of the path there are two waterfalls, and since it was warm, people were swimming, even dogs. Not me, because I'm selective with my swims. I'm not fooled by those fairytale pools.

We went back to the parking lot, ate in the camper, and after a walk through the town, we continued by car towards Cromarty, another town with a reputation for being picturesque. We saw it from the car and... well, it seemed to me that it has more oil platforms than charming little houses. The Cromarty Firth is a very wide fjord, and several giant metal structures float there, as if they were stranded nautical skyscrapers. A bit ugly, really.

We had two options: take the Cromarty–Nigg ferry (15 pounds) or go around the fjord. I, who am a dog of the open sea, voted for the ferry. But Daddy Edu, who is of solid ground and a prudent wallet, decided to go around the Cromarty Firth and cross the bridge. It's an important fjord in Scotland, deep and strategic, but not very friendly for doggy dips.

We refueled a bit of diesel (just a sip, because it was very expensive) and continued towards Meikle Ferry North & Slipway, a place next to the water, with beautiful views of the Dornoch Firth. But... it was right in front of a house. Less than 50 meters away. Between the fact that the house seemed inhabited and that we are discreet by nature (well, Edu is; I bark if an ant passes), it seemed to us that camping there was like pitching the tent in someone's garden. So… about-face.

We crossed the Dornoch Firth Bridge again and found another spot, near Balleigh, in a small rural parking lot. Surrounded by grassy fields, with only another German camper in the background. A quiet, discreet place, without strange signs or nosy neighbours.

Here we are staying. To sleep, to rest, and to see if tomorrow, finally, the virus leaves Edu's body. Because it's time to stop being tourists on half-power.