At the base of one is a boldly coloured framed backpack, lying open where Daniel has left it at the side of the trail. Half a dozen towering wind turbines emit low moans as their massive metal blades turn steadily behind him. His navy nylon jacket snaps and billows in the stiff breeze of the exposed hillside. They hover in and out like a mirage beneath the thinning mist settled in the valley below. All he can make out are a patchwork of farmers’ fields.
Daniel stands tall in the early morning on the soaring ridge of Alto del Perdón, searching for a phantom ocean.
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