Almost everyone has a kind of fetish object, something that sparks an inexplicable attraction. For me, that happens when I see a caravan, especially if it’s been around for a while and its travels have left a patina (a very elegant way of saying wear and a considerable layer of grime).
That’s exactly what happened as I was crossing Asturias on the N-634, lost in thought (you don’t need another lens, you don’t need another lens…) and enjoying the landscape. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a flash, a hidden gem tucked beneath a bridge. As a blinking red light lit up in my brain (stop the car now!), I searched for a place to turn around and go back for my treasure (yes, full Gollum face).
At first, I approached cautiously, a little worried that someone might actually be living under the bridge. But no, the caravan was just parked there. I relaxed and wandered around the area for a while, visualizing the shot. I took two photos: one from inside the tunnel and another from the outside. While the lighting from within worked nicely, I ultimately chose the exterior shot, as it captured the scene much better.
I still don’t quite know why I’m so drawn to these vehicles. Maybe because adventure is in their DNA, but there’s also a certain aura of decay. It’s a strange combination I simply can’t resist.
