This is a barren region, with nothing as far as you can see… no houses, no wells, no windmills, no traffic… nothing but patches of scrub struggling to stay alive. We decided against riding into Raton, which meant camping along the road someplace. Rather than just pick a random spot, we walked our bikes about half a mile up a gravel driveway to a ranch house to ask if we could pitch our tent on their property, someplace in a corner out of the way. 

The ranch hand and the owner’s wife were there, both of whom agreed that the owner was a bit “eccentric,” and apologetically said we wouldn’t be able to camp on the site.   30,000 acres, but no place for our tent. They did try to make it up to us by giving us cake and a lemon lime soda. 

After leaving we pedaled down the road a few miles and camped on the opposite side of the road from their house in a shallow volcano-like declivity where we were invisible from the road. In all probability, considering the size of the ranches around there, we were likely still on their property. 

I think that, all things considered, they didn't need to try purchasing their absolution with cake and soda. We ended up with an even better campsite, miles from any light amidst the stark beauty of the desert.