Today we woke up under enemy fire… but vegetable. Sniper acorns spent the night dive-bombing the camper roof as if they were training for a silent war. It didn't hurt, but each blow sounded like a catapult shot. Even so, between attacks, we managed to sleep decently. No rave cars, no shouting humans, no rural reggaeton: just oaks with bad aim.

In the morning we took a walk around the fishing pond. Twenty minutes of silence, still water, indifferent ducks and me sniffing every blade of grass as if they could be hiding ham. Dad walked slowly, with that "I haven't eaten breakfast yet, person" face, but I was already raring to go.

Then we set off east, although as always we left at an hour that doesn't know if it's morning or pre-lunch. A few kilometres away we stopped at a Super U to fill up with diesel and provisions. While dad was choosing bread, fruit and things he won't share, I stayed guarding the camper with the expression of a hairy civil guard.

Later we found a beautiful picnic area next to the Sarthe river. That river winds through the west of France, looking like it's in no hurry to get anywhere. It's calm, navigable in some stretches and surrounded by meadows where mice with hats and poet dragonflies surely live. We ate there, with a table, shade and breeze, and I inspected every centimetre as a canine inspector from the town hall. It was a perfect place to sleep, but dad decided that today we had to move on a little further.

And when I say "move on", I mean that at six in the afternoon we set off again. We went through La Flèche and on Park4Night we saw a place that seemed ideal: a natural area with several lakes. But the GPS decided to play hide-and-seek. Google Maps said "this way", Osmand said "that way", and reality said "prohibited, private road, barrier and return". Every time we got closer, some unfriendly sign or blocked road appeared.

In the end, dad used ninja mode: satellite view. There, yes, he deciphered the labyrinth and we managed to arrive. We parked in a clearing near Lac des Oiseaux. The name says it all: here the feathers rule. There was no one else, no cars, no fishermen, no hidden campers. Just trees, silence and a sky that was already darkening.

Before locking ourselves in our little house on wheels, we went out to stretch our legs and snout. The lake shone with the last remnants of light and the birds floated as if they had paid an entrance fee. We saw elegant swans, a few distracted ducks and reflections that looked like they had been painted by an artist with insomnia.

Tomorrow we'll see everything more calmly and with more light. Today we had to land, eat something delicious and pray that the acorns haven't moved from the forest to follow us.