Was he hoping to find an area of desert to stand in for Monument Valley? Or a Cistercian abbey? Or did he just want to be alone? Who knows, but what we do know is that by the time a red sun, seeming to melt over the horizon, was filling the whole western half of the sky, Ford found himself sat on a hillside rock, not far from a village in the province of Huesca by the name of Sena, smoking, drinking and chatting with a goatherd.
The conversation started in Spanish:
- Buenas tardes. Si se ha perdido yo puedo orientarle.
- I’m sorry, I don’t understand.
The rest of the exchange took place in English:
- No problem, I understood you perfectly. In fact I happened to be born in Milwaukee, almost fifty years ago.