Day 64: Balleigh - Littleferry

The place we slept last night, near Balleigh, was so beautiful that if I were human, I'd have an Instagram account and do yoga at sunrise. It was all green meadows, absolute silence, and not a single midge in the air. There was only one other campervan, but it left before I finished my first serious yawn of the day, so we had the field to ourselves for a good while. And with sunshine. Repeat after me: with sunshine in Scotland! A miracle on a par with the Loch Ness Monster!

Around half past twelve we got in the car and in about twenty-five minutes we arrived in Dornoch, which sounds like a wizard's name, but it's a real town. And not just any town, but one with old houses, cute little shops and a cathedral that looks like it's from a fairytale. Dornoch Cathedral, according to Papi Edu, is very nice inside (I wouldn't know, because they don't let me in, of course), but from the outside it has that "unpretentious relic" vibe. Plus, right next to it there was a market being half dismantled, so we saw it "tomorrow is late".

From the centre we crossed a golf course to get to the beach. And there they were: the gentlemen of the stick and the tiny ball, very concentrated and very serious. I looked at them with my "wouldn't it be better if that ball squealed and you could bite it?" face. But nothing. They, in their own world, playing giant marbles with the aura of a silent mass.

Dornoch beach had just the right amount: fine sand, sea with character and happy humans. I did my usual ritual: ball, sand, running in circles and marking territory. I even went in the water a little, so that they don't say I'm just a landlubber. A brief dip, but a brave one!

After the walk, we went back to the car, and as we didn't feel like sleeping in a supermarket car park (again), we went to a place a bit further north. But to get there, we had to go around Loch Fleet, which is like a real fjord but with the name of a folk band. More than twenty kilometres along a road that winds between the water and the land. Beautiful, that's for sure.

We arrived at a car park nestled between dunes and forest, where a sign says you can sleep for one night. Not two, not three. One. As if it were a romantic date with a time limit. We ate in the campervan, and in the afternoon we went exploring.

The dunes were like mini mountains of sand, ideal for running, digging or simply posing as if you were on the cover of National Geographic. And when we got to the beach, we found a surprise: the skeleton of a ship, rusted and half-buried in the sand! It looked like it was decorated by hipster pirates. I approached to sniff it respectfully, just in case it had ghosts inside.

In the car park there is also another campervan-cell, a German Tischer. And of course, as is the unwritten rule of the campervan world, they came straight to look at ours. Papi Edu unleashed some Goethe-level German on them, and they were stunned. They talked for a while about campervans, routes and other things that I don't understand, while I looked for shade and made sure no one got near my ball.

But of course, the number one enemy of Scottish adventurers arrived: the midges. Small, stealthy and with an ancestral hunger. As soon as we noticed the first ones on our ears, everyone inside!. Windows closed, curtains down and taking refuge as if a swarm of locusts was coming.

And that's how the day ended: with rusty ships, curious Germans, a posh golf course and my ball, as always, ready for the next mission.