Day 60: Pitlochry

The flu is still clinging to Daddy Edu like a stubborn tick. The night was a disaster: coughing, fever, tossing and turning. So I, as a supportive dog, didn't sleep a wink either. And that's even though the place where we sleep is a good one, the kind that doesn't have streetlights, noise, or drunks singing "Wonderwall".

Even so, we woke up in the morning to a spectacular blue sky and a little sun that almost made us want to jump out of the camper. Almost. Because, with our bodies in pieces, what we wanted was to stay sprawled out like lizards. And that's what we did. We spent a good part of the day not only inside the camper, but also in our "private garden": a patch of grass right behind the car. I was stretched out on the grass, Daddy Edu in his chair, and the cold occupying more space than the two of us combined.

After lunch, when the sun was already going down, we decided to take a walk.

And it was a good decision, because we found a gem: the Coronation Bridge, a suspension bridge that crosses the River Tummel with quite a bit of elegance. It's not one of those that makes you question your existence with every step: it has a solid steel floor that you can walk on without fear, and although the rest of the structure is made of cables, it barely moves. It was inaugurated in 1911 to celebrate the coronation of King George V and, although it is not very long or very high, it has its picturesque charm. I liked it more once we were on the other side, but I crossed it without complaining. Well, almost.

On the other side we followed the path downriver, heading east, and arrived right in front of the point where we had seen the waterfall yesterday. And there, between two waterfalls, bingo! There was a perfect place to bathe. On the other bank there were more humans bathing. Just like that, as if nothing. As if the water didn't come straight from the Highlands.

Daddy Edu had his towel and swimming trunks in his backpack, just in case. And it turned out that "just in case" turned into "well, let's go, I'll get in." He changed right there, carefully went down the rocks, and plunged in. The reaction was a mix of a scream, a laugh, and an existential moan. The truth is: he got in, yes, but swimming, what you call swimming... just enough to be able to say he had done it. With the flu he has, it was more reckless than refreshing.

After the express bath and drying off in the sun, we returned by the same path. When we got to the car park, we saw that some campers had left, but as if they had reproduced by spores, new ones had arrived. We retreated to our base, opened the windows a bit and spent the rest of the afternoon between naps, calm heartbeats and hopes that, finally, the flu would decide to do us the favour of disappearing.

Tomorrow will be another day. Let's see if we're without a fever, and wanting to cross more bridges, but without coughing on every plank.