Day 30: Clatteringshaws - Wigtown

Today started strong. At six in the morning, when we were still in "croquette mode" in our little bed in Galloway Forest Park, the peace ended. An army of vans and maintenance trucks invaded the car park like the bad guys in an action movie, with their engines roaring non-stop and the workers running from one car to another as if they were doing a slow race simulation. For a moment I thought they were going to set up an obstacle course for clumsy humans.

But hey, we'll do our thing. Papa Edu and I continued with our sacred routine: dog stretches, breakfast with compulsory duck and a while observing the world from the window. Around ten o'clock we started the car and went... to the left. But the adventure didn't last long, because further on there was another battalion of trucks, excavators, road closed signs and a very serious gentleman who looked like the supreme chief of the asphalt. So we turned around, like in the side missions of the video games, and this time we went north.

On one of those mysterious curves in the forest we found a gravel track called Galloway Kite Trail. Well, the name promises dragons or at least kites, but it turns out that it is a scenic route designed to see birds of prey like the red kite. Papa Edu was hoping to see some, but I only saw branches, trees and the same forest landscape cloning itself. The road went up and down, yes, beautiful, but not to be there for an hour stumbling around. So another U-turn. I don't know how many times we turned today, but if it was a dance, we would have won a salsa competition.

Then, as a reward for so many curves, we found a little lake called Black Loch. There is a car park right next to it, without a soul (yay!), but with a sign saying that spending the night there costs ten euros. Excuse me? It's almost the same as the free place where we sleep. Why pay? Does it include breakfast? Dog massage? Thermal blankets?

As we weren't ready for a nap yet, we took a walk around the lake. At first it was easy, along a well-maintained gravel path, and soon we found a very curious thing: a cone of perfectly stacked stones on the shore. We didn't know what it was, but it looked like a kind of sculpture. It turns out that it is, it's a work of art by the artist Andy Goldsworthy, part of a series of stone structures that are all over the region. I wanted to mark it more, but Papa Edu didn't let me. What a party pooper.

The second half of the walk was more "moderate adventure" style. A narrow path between the vegetation, with brambles that tried to caress my back without permission. We had to cross a small stream, but without drama. In total, it was two or three kilometers, a very pleasant walk, with a taste of rural discovery.

After that little zen moment, we officially left Galloway Forest Park. Well, it's beautiful, with lots of trees to sniff and double-gear, but Papa Edu thought it was a bit bland. He says that all the landscapes look the same and misses more variety. I'm not complaining: shade, sticks, moss and bugs. Although, speaking of bugs... the midges! Oh my god! How horrible. Entire clouds of tiny bugs with bad milk. They bite you, they get in your ears, they surround your head as if you were a piece of meat floating in the forest. It was impossible to be outside without being devoured. They didn't even let me pee with dignity. So we ate locked in the car, in a friendly ditch, and then we continued the route towards Wigtown.

Wigtown, friends, is officially the literary capital of Scotland. A small town, surrounded by green hills, with a suspicious concentration of bookshops. We parked in front of the town hall or whatever seems most important. It was the centre, but there wasn't much going on. The town is well-kept, it has its charm, but it looked like an empty set. Very few people on the street. I would call it Scottish nap mode.

First we walked to the port of Wigtown. The "port" thing is a little optimistic. The river was so low that it looked more like a muddy wasteland with a vocation for a canal. There is a sign warning that the area floods with the tide, so if you leave your car there, it's at your own risk. I found it fascinating. A port without water, like a plate without food. Mysterious and incomplete. But the place has something. There's grass, space to run and a silence that invites you to stay. And the best thing: you can sleep there with the camper. So, without hesitation, we went for it and parked near three or four other motorhomes. Well, a little apart, as we like, but within the tribe.

We spent the afternoon quietly. I was in my element: tall grass to roll around in, flowers to smell and fictional chases with invisible enemies. A paradise. Papa Edu relaxed, looked at maps and thought human things. I was just thinking about my ball, which also had its moment of glory today.

That's how the day ended. With less action than others, yes, but with a good mix of bugs, unnecessary turns and quiet discoveries. Sometimes you don't need a fjord to feel that the journey continues. All you need is a good place to roll around.