After five days of family pampering (and dodging my ninja-cousin-cat), it was time to get back on the road. What I didn't know was that the boat would be more boring than a Sunday without football.
🇬🇧 United Kingdom
We slept poorly amidst doubts, crows, and upside-down heads. We drove through bumpy green tunnels to a wheat field at sunset. Playing with the ball, two guys arrived... and we ended up invited to a horse fair!
I crossed York from end to end looking for ham… and it turns out that York ham isn't from York. That said, I found a tower, a bridge, a wall, and a human with chicken. Not bad for a Thursday.
We explore Scarborough, nestled between bays, pedal dragons and tranquil tombstones. Then we walk along the cliffs to Boggle Hole, seeking views, history and a traffic-free place to sleep.
Robin Hood didn't show up, but a hill did, and it nearly made me breathe out of my ears. Then we saw a very important ruined church, although we had to spy on it from over the wall. Great plan.
Between treacherous thorns, winds that tousle your hair, and English rain, we crossed half the island in search of a dry corner. Did we find it? Yes! But the thorns are still in my canine memory…
Up the mountain, down the mountain… almost 18 km of adventure, wind in your face and legs pushed to their limit. But with a sandwich, a nap, and a stunning view, who's complaining?
We spent the night tossing and turning like croquettes in a pan in the wind. And on top of that, we're sore! But even so, today we had magic stones, streets with shops for mountain-loving humans, and a viewpoint with a final surprise.
Neither castles nor bagpipes: our entry into Scotland was discreet. Rain, mud, a miraculous hose… and a free-for-all against hellspawn.
Between stone cones, killer midges and absurd payment signs, we crossed a lake, went around a thousand times and ended up in a port where the river ebbs and flows with the tide.
From total relaxation in Wigtown harbor to the cliffs of the Mull of Galloway. With a medieval tower, sacred ruins, and a saint's cave. And me smelling it all, of course.
From the southernmost point of Scotland we saw the Isle of Man and Ireland. Then in Portpatrick we walked among cliffs and wind to another almost identical lighthouse. Day of views, lighthouses and ears flapping in the wind!