The morning started without rushing. Half of the other campers had already zoomed off as if they were giving away croquettes at the next bend. We, true to our champion pace, first took a walk along the Skinningrove cliffs. Part of the Cleveland Way passes there, a national trail that covers more than 170 kilometers between Helmsley and Filey, bordering the entire North Yorkshire coast and crossing the North York Moors. That sounded like an epic excursion to me... until I noticed the first thorns in my paws.

What a mania these plants have for hiding spikes in the silliest places. I was so happy, sniffing around in the bushes, and suddenly, zap! Limping again. And again. And again. It seemed like instead of paws I had magnets for barbs. Besides, up there a wind was blowing that combed your hair backwards, so after a heroic stretch we decided to go back to the camper. A couple of caresses, a little paw pad cleaning, and done.

We said goodbye to Zarren, the number one fan of our ship on wheels, and set off for new adventures. First stop: Redcar, to refuel LPG. For just over 10 pounds we filled the gas tank to cook and have hot water for almost two months. Not that it's anything, but with how the price of dog food is going up, that's a bargain.

The weather started to worsen right after. Rain at times, the kind that sounds like they're throwing buckets of water at you from the sky, but then we went through areas so dry that not even a puddle. England in its purest state: bipolar sky.

We took a break in Kendal, a nice town halfway between sheep and shops. There, daddy Edu wanted to "stretch his legs", although I think he said it so as not to admit that he wanted to snoop around in the Iceland supermarket (which is not a volcano shop, but a frozen food shop). We also went into a pet store. I sniffed every corner in case something interesting fell, but nothing. Just dog food. Yuck.

Then we kept driving. And driving. We crossed almost all of England from east to west. We left from the North Sea coast and ended up almost in the Irish Sea, entering the famous Lake District National Park.

This park is the largest in England and a paradise for walkers and explorer dogs (with or without thorns). It's full of mountains, green valleys and lakes that look like giant mirrors. Daddy Edu reminded him a bit of Norway, and he was right: narrow curves, deep valleys, and a climate that changes more than I do my sleeping posture.

We looked for a place to spend the night. The first attempt was in Red Pit Parking Area, a beautiful place next to the road that leads to Ullswater Lake. But all the flat spots were already occupied by other early-rising campers. Besides, the wind there was blowing so hard that it looked like it was going to blow the back door off.

In the end we found a large car park in Hartsop, which serves as a starting point for several hiking trails. There is a sign asking for a voluntary donation, so let's see if tomorrow we find a lost English coin between the seats to leave something. We feel very comfortable here: it is quiet, surrounded by mountains with dramatic fog, and there are only a couple of cars and another van.

We ate something, took a well-deserved nap and then... we did nothing. Because it was still raining at times, and because honestly, after so many busy days, it's also nice to spend the afternoon quietly inside the camper. Me with my ball, daddy Edu with his book, and the rain setting the rhythm on the roof.

Let's see if tomorrow the weather lets us explore a little more, because this park looks very good. And I really want to try trails without thorns.