Cement Plant

So there I was, walking down a long stretch of dirt road towards this cement plant. There is a road with a wide open view of this place nearby so I am quick to setup and get shooting. I toss my bag on a nearby bag of rocks and decide to leave it there while I run around with my tripod and camera.

The pool of red clay was an incredible sight and I knew there were some nice pictures to be had here. This is fresh after a rain, which I think is why the clay was so dark and red.

Several mounds of gravel & clay litter the property. That's important to know later.

I'm running, stopping, furiously framing and bracketing, and running again. Light is winding down and I'm feeling a little too exposed. After this pool I ran to a few entrances to check them out. Nothing but solitary rooms behind the few doors I checked.

I couldn't explore further -- back at the entrance to the plant, down the dirt road -- an old man sauntered towards me. I was trapped, my bag was between myself and the old man, and I couldn't make a hasty exit without it. I decided quickly to break down my tripod and try to circumvent the old man by way of the gravel mounds.

I'm half crouched, jogging over louse gravel hills with a tripod and camera in my hands. I'm brandishing it like a curator might brandish a priceless bust. Glancing over towards the road, I caught a closer look of the old man. He had passed my bag without seeing it and wasn't paying any attention to the gravely hills. His eyes were fixated on the plant. He was certainly not in an hurry.

Thinking I might actually get away without a confrontation, I hopped from one hill to another, mis-judged my landing and promptly rolled my ankle over as gravel gave way to my momentum. I fell into the hill and made quite an impact, and immediately turned towards the old leathery man. He stayed the course straight towards the plant. Thankfully, my priceless imaging-relic was unscathed, but my ankle was quite sprained. I hobbled over the next few hills to my bag, broke down camp, and hastened a retreat back downt the road.

As I doubled back up a hill, finally off the property, I looked back at the old man. He stood looking at the plant, fixated on it -- like a statue -- and never moved once as I walked away from the plant and out of sight from the man.
 
He could still be standing there right now!