After a night without noise, without bloody annoying sheep or tractors with dodgy intentions, we woke up super late, like ten o'clock. Between the tiredness from the day before and the emotional slump, we needed a slow start. The sky had turned grey, with wind and the occasional little raindrop, as if it too was a bit disappointed with the camper hospitality of the Scottish north.

Because yes, we were a bit disheartened. What we saw yesterday – giant wheels blocking roads, "no entry" signs everywhere, and Park4Night comments worthy of a rural thriller – left us with the feeling that we campers aren't exactly welcome around here. And Scotland, with how nice people generally are… we were expecting something different.

But hey, life goes on. Papi Edu got to updating the blog, uploading photos, and taking coffee slowly, while I took the opportunity to sleep a bit more and snuggle up against his leg. And when the camper was starting to feel a bit small (from being inside so much), we went for a walk in the park surrounding the car park. Nothing special, but enough to clear our heads and let me stretch my legs.

Around three o'clock we got in the car. In about 20 minutes we arrived in Castletown, where we'd already passed through with the car last night. We'd seen a car park facing the sea that Park4Night marked as prohibited for overnight stays, but now there wasn't a trace of "no entry" signs. We parked without intending to sleep there, just to explore a bit.

Castletown beach is long, with fine sand, and wide views of the greyish sea and wind that seems to be in a hurry. We had a pleasant walk and then started the Flagstone Trail, a path that traces the memory of the stone industry in the area.

Flagstone is a flat stone that during the 19th and early 20th centuries was used to pave streets all over the world. In Castletown there was a large quarry and a thriving industry of cutting, polishing and exporting these slabs. Today, little more than ruins remain: half-fallen walls, old warehouses, loading channels... but everything is well explained with panels, and it has that charm of places where nature is reclaiming what was hers. A walk between history and silence, with the smell of the sea as a guide.

After almost an hour, we got back in the car and headed to Thurso, but not to the centre, but to an industrial estate where there's an automatic laundry. It was about time: we’d been accumulating clothes for almost four weeks, and the camper was starting to smell like I'd hidden a bone under the bed.

The laundry, by the way, is one of the best we've seen in years: clean, modern, with powerful machines, and best of all, we could park right in front. While the washing machines spun and spun, we ate in the camper. Well, I don't know if you'd call it a meal or a late dinner: it was almost six o'clock.

At seven o'clock a very friendly lady appeared, who came to clean and close. She spoke to Papi Edu and, most importantly, gave me a treat. People like that should rule the world.

Then we made a last logistical stop: a petrol station near the centre of Thurso, where we put in some diesel (just to avoid getting stranded), but above all we refilled the water tank, which was already as dry as a rice cake. It was almost eight o’clock, so it was time to find a place to sleep.

We went westwards, towards Strathy, on roads that were becoming increasingly narrow and with less traffic. We found a small car park with sea views, where there were already two other campers. And, surprise, no "no entry" signs. We settled into the third space as if we'd been here all our lives.

The views are wide, you can hear the sea between gusts of wind, and everything conveys a calmness that we needed like water in a bowl. Tomorrow we'll see where we go next, but today, it was simply time to be.