Day 29: Mockerkin - Clatteringshaws

The day started calmly, but with that gray sky that looks like someone has left the "British sadness" filter on. We left around 10 am heading to Scotland, but with a life or death mission (well, almost): to find water! We had been eight days since the last refill, and although the warning light wasn't yet shining red, Daddy Edu already looked like he was in a survival documentary. And with good reason: without water there is no shower, without a shower there is no joy. Or worse: without water there is no coffee!

In this part of the world, finding a free tap is like looking for a unicorn in a raincoat. In Park4Night only campsites and paid areas appear. And natural springs... not even to smell them. Not even me, who has a professional sense of smell.

After about 80 kilometers we crossed the border into Scotland. No bagpipers, no tartans, no epic sign. Just rain, more rain, and a slight suspicion that we are entering a country where the sun is just a myth. That said: the green, greener than ever.

We entered the Galloway Forest Park, the largest forest in the United Kingdom. A paradise of gentle mountains, dark lakes and mysterious paths. It is also one of the best "dark sky" areas for stargazing... although right now, with these clouds, you can't even see the tip of my truffle.

We stopped at St. John's Town of Dalry, which sounds like a medieval novel title but in reality has just enough: houses, rain, and a gas station with superpowers. There we filled the diesel tank and... miracle! A tap! Drinking water, fresh, running. Daddy Edu almost kissed the hose. I just went around the camper with my tail in propeller mode.

With the reserves full and the spirits renewed, it was time to find a place to take refuge from the downpour. Here in Scotland, luckily, you can stop in the middle of nature without anyone coming to tell you that "that is not allowed". Of course, any place won't do: the first site had great views (a mini lake, hills, meditative cows...), but it was sloping like a ski slope. And exposed to the wind. Very aesthetic, not very practical.

Just a little further on we found a more discreet wasteland, surrounded by vegetation and away from the road, although without postcard views. But hey, you can't hear anything but the whispering trees and the drops hitting the roof. For us, perfect.

The temperature was around twelve degrees, ideal for snuggling inside the camper. We ate late but warm, me with my food with pâté (which I devoured as if I hadn't had dinner for three days), and then a relaxing afternoon. Daddy Edu didn't read or adjust anything this time... he was hunting midges.

Midges are tiny Scottish mosquitoes with a vampire soul and a collective appetite. They don't bite: they attack. And as if they knew we had crossed the border, as soon as we opened the door for a minute, dozens of them entered. In England we didn't even see them. Here, on the other hand, it seems they have a welcoming committee. Edu spent a good part of the afternoon chasing them around the cell with a handkerchief in hand. I watched him from my blanket with the same respect as a Roman gladiator.

We didn't do any great feats today, but finding water, shelter and keeping the blood in our veins is already a victory. Tomorrow... who knows. If the sky loosens up, let's explore the forest! If not, more blanket and more pampering. No plan seems bad to me.