The World's Tallest Thermometer read 104F when we pulled in to Baker, California, for cheeseburgers. The third week of our epic American road trip had been an exhilarating but exhausting visit to Los Angeles: it was time to recharge before making our fortunes in Las Vegas.
A tiny desert springs resort inauspiciously marked on our ragged road map promised to be the saviour of two weary girls. Speeding out of of town, I gave in to the temptation of the empty Old Spanish Trail highway and nudged the speedometer ever upwards. Thanks to my bravado, we shot past the turn-off for Tecopa Hot Springs and spent a frustrating hour meandering around the lonely roads, peering for an elusive sign in the twilight.
'I saw y'all driving around out there, I been lookin' at shooters since sundown.' The jovial proprieter of Tecopa Springs Trailer Park greeted us from his 5oft tall observation tower, where we learnt he spent most evenings stargazing and trying to solve maths problems based on the patterns of shooting stars. Overjoyed at the prospect of living out our trailer trash fantasies, we forgot to be weary with the excitement of exploring our desert trailer home, complete with resident cat and cactii garden.
We strolled to the thermal springs, centre of Tecopa life. Long before weary immigrants revived here before continuing to the Californian goldfields, the Native American Paiute tribe brought their sick people to bathe in the healing waters. The segregated bathing houses are now just ramshackle enclosures, open to the skies and the warm winds that veil everything in red dust.
Inyo County bylaws posted outside the pools sternly require patrons to bathe in the nude. Meekly, we stripped before braving the cooler of the two pools (average temperature 108F) gingerly; amateurs compared to the petite Japanese women already submerged. They lined up to introduce themselves to the squealing girls in the shallow end.
Like us, they were en route to Vegas, but as fervent anti-gambling missionaries their aim was to save souls in Sin City. Mine was to ricochet between as many casinos as possible, so I left them practising their fire and brimstone spiels and paddled into the hotter pool, empty but for a wizened local hanging from an exercise bar over the water. Lying in the shallows as she swung like a demented monkey, I watched shooting stars in the clear night sky overhead.
Thoroughly detoxified and relaxed, we floated tranquilly back to our trailer after midnight. Confined to air-conditioned havens by day, the locals congregate outdoors by night, and for the junior population this is a chance to make the most of the desert thermal winds and fly huge incandescent kites. In the observation tower, we shared a beer and watched their creations swoop and dive above us like oversized lightning bugs. In the distance, the orange haze over Las Vegas was beckoning us, but for a moment I was certain that we'd already hit the jackpot in Tecopa.
Jennifer Coyle, 24, from Dublin, is a graduate trainee at Reuters.
