A complete lack of any civilization greeted us; the only visible marks of humanity were three white satellite dishes peeking at us from a distant hill like guardians ready to sound the alert. Our apprehension quickly transformed into confusion when a large, kelly-green sign reading "KEOUGH HOT SPRINGS RESORT" loomed up from the horizon on the left, opposite to a small winding road to our right. The sign bore no arrows or further indications of direction, and though in a strange land we had successfully matched up the hieroglyphics before us with those we were seeking, we still had not discovered its meaning. The road to the right appeared to lead into the hills; no tire tracks or buildings seemed distinguishable. Adam thought we should try exploring, but having not learned from our previous lesson at the lighthouse I was sure that if it looked wrong, it was wrong. I stressed we keep looking.We kept driving for a small while only to find the neighboring roads gated and locked, without even a sign to acknowledge the existence of our final location like the previous road had. We turned around and drove back down to the initial path Adam had wanted to try, slowly crossing through a small dirt intersection. Once we crested the hill, a small complex appeared before us with a billboard identifying it as the Keough Hot Springs Resort. Relieved to have finally pinpointed it, we replaced our confusion with renewed hesitation; once again we found ourselves arriving in a location that appeared less than suitable. The buildings were small, echoing the style and decor of most roadside motels. The parking lot in front of the main building was empty, and I sat in the car staring at handmade wooden cutouts of clowns as Adam ran in to check things out. Coming out with a key, he ran down details of the interior, deconstructing our preconception of the "springs" into its true form: a warm swimming pool next to the gift shop.
Assuring ourselves that if nothing else, it would be another interesting story (warranting we didn't mysteriously disappear in this twilight zone), we headed to the tent-cabin we had rented for the night. Pulling up to the little fabric hut, we were slightly unnerved by the neighboring porch which was strewn with heaps of insect killers and barbecue equipment too hefty in volume for a temporary resident. Were there people who actually lived here at the resort/motel? We weren't sure. The tent-cabin itself was pretty well kept inside, three windows and giant fan were welcome sights in the blazing heat. Unfortunately, the cabin was also a small oven, and we uncomfortably put down our belongings in the carpeted cube of warmth. It was here that the pocket on the back of my pants became inexplicably hooked to the door, and Adam made sure to run and get the camera before setting me free.
After opening all the windows and putting the fan on full blast, we went outside to game-plan and get some fresh, if sweltering, air. As we both settled onto the porch sofas and respired in momentary silence, my legs started to feel tingly. Looking down, I saw the beams of wood swarming with ants crawling over every imaginable surface, including my toes. Disgusted, I started shaking them off as Adam grabbed a broom that had conveniently popped into our conscious existence on the other side of the porch and started sweeping colonies onto the dirt in front of our tent. Laughing in the amusement and mania of our surroundings, we decided we might as well try to take advantage of what we had and headed to the main building to scope out showers and see the pool. As Adam had indicated, it was just a regular pool with neighboring hot tub, although it did have the misty waterfall like promised.Since we hadn't yet gotten dressed for swimming, we headed into the gift shop to pick up our token souvenirs. The gift shop was open but unattended and we walked around looking at the bizarre collection of random objects stocked in this particular little room, completely unrelated and non referential to the resort or its surrounding lands. After deciding that we couldn't comfortably drive the rest of our trip with a 6' painted zebra hiking staff sitting between us in the car, we accumulated a small armload of treasures including a wooden ladybug and a chameleon-shaped carabiner that doubled as a multicolored disco flashlight when you open its mouth. We waited for someone to appear whom we could pay for these things, but no one came. In the interest of time, we walked out of the store carrying our selections and to the check-in desk/milkshake stand where neither of the two people seemed surprised that we had come here to pay.
Back in the tent-cabin, we both changed into more water friendly attire and headed to the stall showers to rinse off (we were both in desperate need of cleansing and it was required before entry into the pool). Feeling refreshed, we then got into the pleasantly warm pool and floated around for the next hour or two, buoyed by foam noodles provided by the hotel. Realizing that it was approaching 5:30pm and we still wanted to eat dinner in Bishop before everything closed, we hopped on over to spend some time in the hot springs tub. This water actually was really warm and soothing; getting out of it was a reluctant, shivering experience.
While we dried and dressed, the evening heat tranquilized into a bewitching, breezy repose. Driving north, heavy clouds caped in a hue of sunken sapphire descended on the diminishing glow of sunset. Here we watched a neon explosion of plum and pomegranate, the sky flushing with the electric palette of a midnight massacre in an orchard. Doped with color and the cool air, we happily settled into a sushi bar called Yamatani right on Main Street. Here we ate our first healthy meal in a while, and our waitress happily obliged our requests for piles of sugar, soy paper, and custom rolls. Back in the cabin afterward with full bellies, we energetically committed to spending the rest of the evening writing posts. This lasted for about 7 minutes before I passed out, and Adam followed soon after.
In the morning, we awoke and packed well before our 11AM checkout time since we had plans to see Death Valley and wanted to get to our next sleeping destination (Las Vegas) with time to spare for a nice dinner. When we pulled up to the main building, we again noticed how empty the area was but it wasn't until Adam tried to open the door that we noticed a sign posted with the resort hours. According to the listing on the door, the main office would not be open until 11AM. If you are thinking that this is unusually tardy for an office, let me add that it was also physically unfeasible. According to our reconciliation of the situation at hand, people staying at Keough must be expected to materialize at the main office in the precise moment that the office staff arrives for the day. We were absolutely stunned when there appeared to be no notice explaining how to check out earlier than 11AM, nor was there any type of drop-box or mailbox that we could leave the key in. Unwilling to wait a couple hours and left with no alternative, Adam wrote a short explanatory note attached to the key and slipped it under the front door. Incredulous and crossing our fingers that we would not get a call in a couple hours inquiring about our extended stay fees, we left Bishop in the already swaying heat of the day, heading towards a National Park most commonly summarized by the image of a horned skull.
The beautiful, state-of-the-art bar outside our cabin and its bartender.
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