Night fell hard and our headlights cut it deeply, scoring great disapproval from the hidden faces whose neon eyes gave them away in every bush, tree and verge that stood before us, as we cruised, alone, on the winding countryside thread veins, pumped up with the alien landscape and the total isolation it gave us. It was just what we came for.

The stereo was silent and so were we, eyes peeled and jaws tight with adrenaline. Every bend seemed to trick us. Every tree, a mirage. We slowed to a crawl so many times, unable to tell road from river, curb from cliff, ditch from death. The night was long and the road, a worthy metaphor. We didn't see a meter in the hours we passed. Now and then, the outlines of sleepy cottages and dark barns would tell us we'd reached somewhere else, but we never knew where that was and never tried to find out, as we pushed on until there was nothing left in us.

Just as we started to get comfortable with the unnerving silence, a huge juggernaut appeared right in front of us, sporting stadium lighting and wheels like windmills. It came within a foot of my side, as it thundered past, and the car felt as though it would roll over in the tempest it conjured. And then, as suddenly as it had appeared, it was nothing but a small cluster of silent red dots in the rear view, and we exchanged a lasting look, unsure if we had dreamed it.

Hearts racing, suddenly, we weren't so tired. We drove another seventy miles before arriving at a gate between two wheat fields. It was wide open and had a sign on one side, claiming it was a 24-hour camp-ground. Unconvinced, we drove tentatively through the gates, expecting to be surprised by guard dogs or worse, but despite its eerie vibe and ridiculously remote location, we were promptly greeted by a middle-aged man who calmly offered us a plot for five euros. We gladly accepted and he lead the way. Unsure of our own minds, we parked up, pulled out our small tent and threw it up to catch some Zs. It would be a welcome sleep, if only due to the ground being more-or-less horizontal.

It must have been around 5am when I was woken by an owl. I turned to see if Simon was still sleeping, but his bag was empty. Curious, I dragged myself to the zip-door to see him staring up at the sky. He never moved as he heard me shuffle over. "You gotta see this, man." Following his gaze, I witnessed the most incredible blanket of stars I'd ever seen. Defiant of my exhaustion, I made the effort to set my camera up on the roof of the car and took a picture. In the pitch black, there were more stars than any camera could capture and the grandeur couldn't possibly be conveyed.

In the hands of the universe.