For good measure I was about to repeat myself one last time, when something incredible happened. For one brief second her line went totally clear. She spoke with such clarity it was almost as if I was in the room with her, wherever she was.
“I receive,” she said. “Fredo Sun! Fredo Sun!”
Then the line went completely dead.
You have to try to understand my predicament. Here was the first human contact I’d had in the guts of a month, having until now thought the entire island of Lanzarote (and possibly the world) was deserted.
Because of the effective range of the CB radio, that person had to be within a maximum of 20-odd miles from where I was currently situated. But those miles were as the radio wave flies so that was a pretty huge amount of territory to be dealing with. The plus side was that she was almost certainly somewhere on the south coast. The radio waves wouldn’t have travelled far enough in-land because of the increasingly mountainous terrain, as on any island, the closer to the centre you got. If like me she was broadcasting from a transmitting station it would be a case of a heck of a lot of cycling up and down the LZ-2 trying to spot the others. But that was the lesser of two evils. If she was in a town or city it would be like trying to find a piece of hay in a massive stack of needles. If only she’d given me a clue as to her location!
I now faced an even bigger dilemma. I had broadcasted my location but had not got hers. Did I stay put and wait for her to find me, or head off across the island in the hope that blind luck served us up a big plate of goodies?
I whipped out my trusty map and assessed the situation. I was around 10 miles from Playa Blanca which was the southern tip of the island. I was fairly certain she wasn’t there although she could have ‘arrived’ in the three days I had been away. I couldn’t write Playa Blanca off, in other words. In the other direction was Puerto Del Carmen, around eight miles, Arrecife the capital city was about 14 miles, and Costa Teguise was about 19 miles away. These were the main resorts or population centres, and I would have to search them all.
There was no way in hell that I could stay put and wait. I knew in my heart that would drive me crazy. No, I had to get out there and hunt my new friend down. That I was determined to do. I would leave a note at the station in case she located it and tell her to stay there. I would return every day at midday for the next two weeks in case she did.
I looked up at the sun and decided I had a good two or three hours of daylight left, not that it mattered as I could happily cycle in the dark, but I needed to get somewhere for the night to strategise.
I decided not to head all the way back to Playa Blanca but to base myself more centrally within the broadcast zone. Puerto Del Carmen seemed bang in the centre of the potential main locations within that zone.
I set off down the dusty track to get my bike with quite a spring in my step.
48%
Somebody else was on the island with me!
It was almost too much to grasp. After all this time thinking I was alone all I had to do was pull my finger out and get searching.
The implications were astounding. I barely slept a wink all night thinking about it. Unfortunately it still did little to explain why all this was happening, but if I could find this person I was convinced the explanation would somehow out. Perhaps she knew why we had been put here! She might know others that were also here. There may be a whole frigging community of survivors somewhere on the island! Then again, she might be the puppet master and this was just another part of the puzzle I had to solve. Either way I had to find her, and quickly.
Upon leaving the transmitting station the night before I had left a crude note next to the CB radio declaring my intentions. I had written it as best I could in Spanish and German as well as English, just in case there was a language barrier. I didn’t know any Chinese or Japanese, if that was even where she was from, but banked on her being educated enough to get the gist. In very simple terms it confirmed that I was searching the island for the recipient of my broadcast, and that if this note was discovered the reader should stay put and I would return each day when the sun was highest in the sky to check.
It was a risk I had to take as I have explained. I could not just sit back and wait for her to come to me. Although if there was a community they would surely send out scouts.
I thought how wonderful it would be. A community of people would mean shelter, support, and a sense of belonging, unless I was placing too much faith in human nature. If the island’s other resorts were as well stocked as Playa Blanca there would be no issue with sustainment. But it also begged the question, if there was a group why hadn’t sentinels visited Playa Blanca in the three weeks I had been there? Maybe they had. Maybe they were part of an island-wide conspiracy to monitor me. Then again, maybe it was just one lone person who had had the same idea as me to try and reach out to anyone else who might be out there.
You can see the thoughts that were whirlwinding through my mind! I was all at once elated, paranoid, excited and anxious at the potential variations this brief human contact could yield.
I awoke at the THB Flora aparthotel. Not because I was loyal to the chain but because it was the first substantial accommodation I had come across on the cycle in Puerto Del Carmen the night before. Following the map, I had taken the LZ-504 off the LZ-2, which gradually became Calle Reina Sofia as I approached the build-up of the town. The Flora was almost identical to the Sun Royal, from the layout of the apartments to the central reservation housing the pool area and restaurant.
My theory about power in the major resorts turned out to be correct. In something of a Twilight Zone moment, as I approached the town from about half a mile away in the fading light, all of a sudden and as if acknowledging my presence, the street lights began to switch on automatically. If I hadn’t seen it happen on a daily basis in Playa Blanca it would have certainly given me the heebie jeebies.
And so I arrived in Puerto Del Carmen bathed in a yellow glow and set up in the Flora. Again the reception area had records of past and future guests, a computer with no working internet and a selection of buffet food that was as fresh that night as I’m sure it had been three weeks ago. There was no sign of any other inhabitation. The phones were down and the clocks were frozen at 2.04. I could have been right back ‘home’ in Playa Blanca, rather than in a completely different town.
I resisted the urge to head further in to town to explore, telling myself I needed a glass or two of wine, a decent meal and a night in a proper bed after my four days at the transmitting station. I would be in better shape to begin the search the next morning if that were the case. Of course I slept very little.
I panicked slightly when I woke up when I realised my percentage had now dipped below 50%, and I was over half way to whatever I was destined for, but it was also a decent catalyst, not that I needed one, to get up and get going.
I spent the morning cycling around Puerto Del Carmen. Having broken into a cycling store I picked up some spare tyre tubes, a puncture repair kit and a squeezy horn which I mounted on the handlebars and gave four or five good squeezes of each time I rode onto a new street. At what I thought was around 11am I checked the map and decided I’d probably covered most of the major arteries that ran through the town, and that it was time to head up to the transmitting station for my midday rendezvous.