In 1965, Martin Luther Kind said, "All I'm saying is simply this: that all mankind is tied together; all life is interrelated, and we are all caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment of identity. Whatever affects one directly, affects all indirectly.”

Today is our last day at Alvord Desert. It was here, at this magical place, that three years earlier Dwayne and I talked with our first full timer. That meeting was the genesis of this year on the road. Being here now at the start of this trip feels right.

This park and hot spring is actually a part of the Alvord Ranch, owned by the Davis family since 1970. The hot spring itself, so the owner told me, has been around since the 1940’s and he tries to keep the park numbers low in order to preserve the site. The desert is actually a white, parched dried-up lake bed, unlike anything I’ve ever seen. The Hot Spring is between this desert and the beautiful Steens Mountain. The quiet of the place is remarkable. It’s as if the dry earth has absorbed all sound, even when the wind is incessant. Alvord Desert draws all kinds of people—ranchers, hippies, hipsters, and seekers. All kinds of stories can be heard in just a few days here.

Our camp host, Spider, has long maroon hair and wears spaghetti strap cowgirl dresses that show off her tattooed arms. She speeds around the small camp in her cart as if it were a horse and we are her cattle. On Friday evenings Spider sits in her cart by the gate to stop folks trying to enter. “We are full,” she tells them. “You can camp across the road but you can’ t use our hot spring.” Even huge men driving duallies listen to her. This is Spider’s land and don’t you forget it.

Here, too, we have our first “influencer” sighting. Dwayne and I are enjoying one of Fields Station’s famous milkshakes. The quaint one-stop gas, food, small grocery store is the only store near here, so it always gets a mention in in Sunset Magazine or most posts about Alvord Desert (including this one). We sit at a picnic table in front of the store enjoying our shakes in the sun, when two twenty-somethings in a small blue car pull up to the still operational antique gas pump. They stand out to me because the female, with perfect hair, heavy makeup, and a short skirt looks more like she is going clubbing than exploring a desert. They move quickly, the male records the female as she explains the process of pumping gas in excruciating detail. They stop and start a few times, trying to get it just right, ignoring the car waiting for their turn. After this recording, they park and rush inside. Soon they come out with one milkshake and she freshens her makeup. Then he again recorders her as she smiles and pretends to eat the milkshake. When they are finished recording, she hands it to him, they hop in the car and drive away.

In the evening on our way to watch the sunset from the hot spring we see them again at their campsite. Their camera is on tripod at their picnic table and they are both bent over their computers. This morning when we are driving out to the playa after a morning soak, we spot them trudging up the hill behind the camp with camera equipment over the male’s shoulders to get a shot of the morning sun over the camp. When we returned from the playa, they have already gone, racing to their next hot spot. It is hard not to notice how much they didn’t see. They appeared, at least when we saw them, inside themselves while all around them wonder is open and waiting to be found.

On our way back from Field’s, we meet Collin pacing the dusty road waving his hands to stop us. His little Toyota had caught the soft gravel on the side of the road and yanked him into the bank. He is pretty agitated and teary-eyed as he tells us that he can’t get his car out and he’s worried it needs serious repairs. Dwayne and I offer to give him a ride to the Hot Spring where we feel sure someone can pull him out. “I bet your car is fine,” I tell him. He looks dubious, but agrees and climbs into the backseat where Neo puts his head on the man’s lap. He is from Vancouver, Washington, he tells us, and has driven out for the weekend. He just started a new job and is worried that something is wrong with his car and he won’t get back home in time for work on Monday. We assure him that the rancher who owns Alvord Hot Springs will be able to help. And when we talk to Spider, she gets him a site (even though she told the person in line before us that we were full), and the owner comes down from the ranch and pulls him out. “Happens all the time,” he said. Sure enough Collin is able to drive to the Hot Spring. He sleeps in his car and leave the next morning.

In the small rustic Hot Spring, Dwayne and I meet a few people. There is the woman who lost her husband in a car accident 5 years ago. Just before he died they had sold everything to follow their dream of living on the road. “So,” she tells us, “Here I am alone living this life we planned for years. It’s okay. I feel close to him doing this. But take my advice. Don’t put off anything until later. Enjoy each other now while you can. You just never know.”

We also meet a mother and daughter traveling from Oregon City. The daughter and her boyfriend broke up a month earlier and she and her dog had to move in with her mother. “My dog is an asshole and my mom hates him, but what can I do? I’ve tried to train him but he is just too stubborn. So he’s back in the trailer, hopefully not tearing everything up.” She explains that they are on this trip that she had planed with her boyfriend. “My mother and I might kill each other, but I didn’t want to go alone after the breakup, so she agreed to come with me.” The mother smiles but stays silent. I can’t help but tell them about the loss of my own mother just months ago. “I miss her every day. You are so lucky to have each other.” The mother’s smile warms as her eyes tear up, and the daughter pretends not to hear.