The road is very narrow, and curly. More than a road, it’s looking like a goat’s path. But I don’t care. I forget about the car and his scary driver, and I keep walking. The stars shine over me. It’s a beautiful summer night, and I don’t need any light to see where I walk. Now, I need to remember what I was told. Walk two kilometers, then turn left. There will be a cardboard sign indicating the path to the camping place. After taking the road, don’t expect it to pop up quickly: we try not to be visible for a casual traveller, remember.
I walk and walk. The world around me is just shadows. The Milky Way is an amazing display of cosmic beauty over my head. The moon is missing. I’m a man, so I don’t pay attention to it, unless it’s very bright or there is an eclipse. I imagine what the prehistoric people felt when they saw the sky in the night: that the whole thing couldn’t be a natural product. I know it is, but I kind of understand the feeling.
And I’m happy. Maybe it’s the air, clean, fresh. Maybe it’s the night, moonless but bright. Or the feeling I’m going to live one of the biggest adventures of my life. Then I see it. The cardboard sing on the left. I resist to get my torch to read what is written: “Andalusian camp” or something like that. It doesn’t matter, I know it’s my sign. Euphoric, anticipating the end of my trip, I pick up a cigarette from my pocket, I switch it on, puff it slowly, and leave the road, to enter the forest.