My friend and I exchanged another bemused look just what could he possibly want now ? The Kindness Of Strangersįive minutes later, he was back again. Satisfied, he disappeared.įeeling a lot happier and touched by his small gesture we stored the oranges safely in the van. We thanked him profusely for a second time, repeating the words over and over as that’s all we could manage in Spanish. He continued to smile and repeat words for our benefit. ‘ Naranjas’ he said and gestured excitedly over to the far corner of the area where his ute was parked. Looking at us closely to judge our reaction, he placed the oranges deferentially on the little camp table in front of us.
His palms were full of oranges, freshly picked and still sporting bright green leaves. He reappeared around the van and stretched out his hands to us. The flashlight preceded the arrival of the high-vis wearing security guard again. Several minutes later, we heard the crunch of footsteps. He bobbed his head and disappeared back into the night towards his van. I thanked him gratefully and he seemed pleased that he had managed to make himself understood. Relief flooded into me with a jolt of understanding. ‘Aqui, ok,’ he repeated, gesturing to the ground with his torch beam. He was not the Police, and just who he worked for was unclear, but on first impression he didn’t strike me as threatening. He wore a fluorescent jacket with the word ‘ seguridad’ – security – on the badge. Gradually, I felt my initial concern subsiding as I realised that he was anxiously trying to make himself understood, and his tone was earnest but friendly. It was quite clear he was asking whether we intended to sleep in the layby, but whether that was ok with him or not I could not decipher.
I grasped a couple of words ‘aqui’ – here – and ‘dormir’ – sleep. ‘Hola,’ the man began and launched into a stream of Spanish. Plan C was looking very unlikely as the desire and ability to continue driving had ebbed away with every sip of wine. Plan A’s failure had meant we were in the layby of Plan B to begin with. Now this man would tell us that we could not sleep here and that would be a disaster. He looked to be in his mid to late forties with hair that glinted with a streak of grey round the temples.Ī flicker of uncertainty rose up in my chest. The boots that crunched the gravelly ground were headed straight for us.Ī man wearing a yellow high-vis jacket appeared around the nose of the van. My friend and I caught the anxious whites of each other’s eyes in the glow of our torches. As Night FellĪ short while later footsteps approached accompanied by the swing of a torch beam. Odd, we thought, why not turn off the ignition if you had pulled over, but we paid it little attention. We became aware of a ute parked on the other end of the layby, engine left running with its lights stretched out into the shadowy distance. There would have to be nothing for it we were going to have to pull over in a layby and simply put up with it.Īfter some food and a couple of glasses of wine we were feeling content snuggled up against the side of the van in our camp chairs, the road blocked from our view we could almost forget that we were parked in a layby at the side of a road by a tiny speck on the map called Campofrio. Embalse de Gossan – the reservoir, or lake, near where we spent the nightĪs darkness enveloped the surrounding landscape, we were running out of time and energy.