We woke up late, one of those awakenings where you don't even know if it's morning or Tuesday afternoon. It was a beautiful day: clear sky, fresh air without being too much, and not a single killer acorn falling on the roof. Before setting off, we took a walk to the lake next to the car park. Very pretty, yes… but cold as a penguin's tongue. Ideal for photos, not for swimming. Then Dad did the camper routine: fill up with clean water, empty the grey water, and I inspected every inlet as if ninja moles lived there.

We set off after midday heading east, towards the Dordogne river. The road went up, down and took curves as if it was seasick. We stopped at a viewpoint where the river made a curve so perfect that it looked like it was made with a compass. Afterwards we crossed an elegant bridge and a while later we arrived at the l'Aigle dam. I thought it would be a bit boring, but it was huge and with a film set landscape. Dad went into National Geographic mode and I went into expert sniffer mode.

We continued to the cascade de Salins. Before arriving, Dad said that it would surely be "a little trickle of water and that's it". We parked, walked... and bam! Big surprise. A high waterfall, with moss, rocks and a path that goes behind it without getting wet, like a magic tunnel but without ogres. We liked it more than we expected, and on top of that we discovered that there was a one-hour circular route. So, let's go for a walk among forest, damp stones and suspiciously delicious smells.

When we got back to the camper, we continued on the road south... until Dad saw a sign: "Puy Mary". He consulted his mobile phone, his human eyes shone and changed the plan in two barks. We passed through Salers (very pretty from the window) and continued climbing. Twenty kilometres of curves and picture-postcard scenery.

At the top was the large car park of Puy Mary, but our destination was another: the col de Redondet, a Park4Night site. It's about fifteen hundred metres high, and you can feel it in the air and in how my snorts sound. There were signs of "route barrée", but the warnings were before, so we continued. The actual cut was behind the place where we wanted to stay. Perfect. The place was a marvel: empty road, panoramic views, real silence and air that smelled of freedom with distant sheep.

We parked, ate quickly (I removed crumbs with professional efficiency) and at half past six Dad decided to climb Puy Mary, which is a thousand seven hundred and eighty odd metres high. But no comfortable little stairs: we chose the steep, wild path, full of stones and the smell of geological history. I was happy, because every rock told a story.

In just over half an hour we were at the top. It was seven o'clock, just before sunset. The colours of the sky seemed invented: oranges, pinks and long shadows like lazy snakes. I silhouetted against the horizon, Dad taking photos like crazy.

We went down the path arranged with steps, walked through the large car park and then there was still more than a kilometre to the camper. We arrived almost at night, tired as greyhounds after a marathon, but happy.

And here we stayed to sleep: alone, high, and with the feeling of having touched the sky with our paws.