When we woke up, the other campers had already vanished, as if swept away by the north wind. We, true to our slow-motion lifestyle, set off with all the calm in the world, and by around noon, we were on the road again, climbing the little road that winds northwards.

We parked almost at the end of the road, where there were already quite a few vehicles: motorhomes of all sizes, cars, the odd camper... and a farmer with a face like thunder. The gentleman, visibly in a grumpy mood, was grumbling about how the cars were parked. He didn't say anything directly to us, but his energy was about as welcoming as a stone in your shoe.

We walked to the end of the road, but then… surprise: a sign said that the cliffs aren't fenced and that dogs can cause panic in the sheep, which could end in tragedy. And although I find sheep to be fluffy and silly, we respected the warning on the sign. We went back to the car and I stayed inside (of course with my ball and a consolatory snack).

Daddy Edu walked another ten minutes, this time alone, until he reached a lonely lighthouse called Totegan Head. It's in a remote and wild location, planted on top of the cliffs as if watching the horizon from ancient times. You can't visit inside, but the views from there are breathtaking: the open sea, the green cliffs with sharp edges and the Scottish countryside with sheep that look like they know a secret.

We returned to the car with a slightly strange feeling, between being amazed by the landscape and feeling somewhat uncomfortable with the hostile farmer vibe, so we decided to leave that area and move on.

Twenty minutes later we stopped by the road to take a look at Armadale beach. A wide and beautiful beach, but the sky was overcast and it wasn't a beach day. So we kept looking for something more… intimate.

And we found it: near Torrisdale, we found a quiet place to eat and do some important chores, like Daddy Edu getting a haircut and showering (with a kind of cleaning ritual that I watched with great interest from my corner). The place was nice and now the sun had come out with a vengeance, it was even a little bit warm.

After lunch and the makeover, we went for a walk along a path that leads to Torrisdale Bay beach. It's a wide beach, with dunes, open sea and a feeling of being at the end of the world. There wasn't a soul there. We found a little corner protected from the wind, got out the towel and stayed for more than an hour sunbathing. Well, Daddy Edu sunbathed, I dedicated myself to digging holes as if I were looking for prehistoric bones. Result: Daddy covered in sand and me as happy as a lizard in the sun.

Before going back, we took another walk along the beach. At one end, we found the remains of a huge ship, rusty and lying on the sand like a sleeping sea dinosaur. I found it fascinating. Although, to be honest, I was still more focused on my archaeological excavations.

We went back to the car along the same path (quite cool, with wild vegetation and the odd meddling butterfly) and we had to look for a place to sleep. The place we were in wasn't bad, but there was no phone signal or mobile data, which for Daddy Edu is almost like missing his morning coffee. So… we started looking.

And it was a real odyssey: places that weren't what they promised, others full, others without coverage… until, finally, we found a spectacular place overlooking Tongue Bay. A large car park, close to the road but with no traffic, quiet and with a sunset that looked like it was painted by Van Gogh himself.

And here we are now, watching the sun go down behind the horizon, tinting the sky with oranges, lilacs and golds. After a day of lonely beaches, suicidal sheep and intense farmers, we couldn't ask for a better ending.