There are magical awakenings… and then there's opening your eyes on a balcony in the sky like ours. Total silence, clean air and views that would take the breath away of even a dog. I got out of bed with happy bones, stretched my legs and stood in front of the door as if I were the owner of the Massif Central.

Mid-morning, cars with hikers started to arrive. But hey, not a bark out of place, everyone polite, some even said we'd got the best spot in the massif to sleep. And they were right: no traffic, no annoying neighbours, not a kamikaze acorn. As the road was still closed, I went out into the sun… in the middle of the asphalt! What a luxury to lie down where they normally shout "watch out for the car!" and this time, nothing, just crickets.

While I was frying my belly, daddy Edu was doing that thing of thinking about plans by looking at maps and screens as if he knew where we were going. And the guy says: "We're going to Salers". Fine by me! We packed up and set off along the same very steep and winding road as yesterday. I thought we were repeating it for fun, but no: just bad human planning. We could have done Puy Mary today and Salers yesterday… but hey, this way I see the same landscape three times and I'll memorise it in case I have to take a test.

We parked for free in front of a small church, Notre Dame de Lorette, because the city centre car park wanted money and we preferred to spend it on croquettes (for me) and bread (for him). We explored Salers on foot, which turns out to be on the list of "most beautiful villages in France". And this time they're not lying, eh? Cobbled streets, dark volcanic stone houses, balconies, turrets, not a bin out of place, elegant silence… and views of meadows that looked like they came straight out of a cheese advert. I sniffed every corner and took a mental photo of three cats that ignored me.

After an hour, forty photos and zero sausages offered, we went back to the car. Destination? The same way back to the Puy Mary. Third time in less than twenty-four hours, I almost greet each bend by name. But this time instead of staying up there, we crossed to the other side via the Col de Serre, another beautiful pass, with views of sloping meadows and cows that seem to know Latin.

It was time to eat. Daddy parked next to a visitor centre type building, but it looked closed or asleep like Sundays in the afternoon. We ate in the campervan (I inspected crumbs, mission accomplished) and set off again.

And then the panoramic car tour began: Le Claux, Cheylade, Laveissière… small villages, so quiet that if I bark I wake up the whole town hall. We didn't stop, but the roads looked like a cartoon: gentle green hills, meadows with happy cows, distant peaks, forests here and there, stone houses dotting the landscape and not a single lorry breaking the spell. I almost feel like wearing a beret.

In the end we came out onto a bigger road with not so many rollercoaster curves, and at six o'clock in the afternoon we parked in the car park of the Gorges du Pas de Cère and the Cascade de la Roucolle. A short walk of a kilometre to the canyon, another twenty-five minutes back, and all to ourselves. The canyon was narrow and green, with rock walls and trees hanging down as if they wanted to gossip with the river. The waterfall, small but pretty, cascaded down in steps hidden among the rocks. Cool shade, the smell of damp moss… and silence. I felt like an explorer dog in a documentary on the 2.

By seven o'clock the sun had already closed the blinds and we returned to the car. Time to look for a bed. Between silly detours courtesy of Google Maps and a roundabout that led nowhere, we ended up at a rest area next to the N122. There is an embankment that separates the picnic area from the road, so it doesn't feel like lorries are getting into your pillow. If you look one way, you see cars passing; if you look the other way, it even seems bucolic. I smell grass, fresh air and something for dinner, so for me it's five stars.

Here we parked, here we had dinner and here we slept. Tomorrow we'll see what mountains, villages or bends we repeat. Just in case, I lie down wherever the sun… or the shade, but far from bells, acorns and car parks with barriers.