Fairy tale kingdom - Bailey's Hot Springs

Three views of Bailey's Hot Springs from 95

Friday night we camped at Bailey's Hot Springs and thereby stumbled into a fairy tale. Of course we had brought our own castle with us. To have a moat, however, is a novelty.

Peacocks about to cross the moat, I mean stream. 

Our hostess directed us to a meadow by the spring-houses, where grasses and herbs are flowering. The spring water is piped to the top of this sward, falling with the constant sound of water into a narrow stream that arcs across to, and continues alongside, an otherwise perfectly ordinary gravel RV park. Once the tent was pitched, the stream curved around three sides of it - moat, check.
Almost immediately the malevolent fairies found us (oh yes. Camp by

Tent with peacock. Bath-house at left rear

water, get mosquitoes.) Simon saw a peacock in a nearby tree. 

The coolest of the hot pools was 104 F. I could not stay in it for more than a few minutes, and got out needing either a strigil or a snow bank to roll in. Neither presenting themselves, made do with cooler and drier air at the door of the bath-house, while admiring the princes in disguise: plump and adorable Amargosa toads hopping around the paved court.

Afterwards, we sat out at a picnic bench and watched the local wildlife (and less wild life). A man wandered past with a rifle over his shoulder, and greeted us affably, remarking that the coyotes must be kept away. Fat cottontails had some sort of relay race around the almost empty gravel park. Then a mid-sized feline with a handsome black coat appeared. (For the longest time I couldn't believe it was a domestic cat. The distance played tricks on my eyes, and it looked too big and tall. However, 'Shadow', while indeed on the large side, is definitely F. catus.)  The rabbits switched to a tense game of Marco Polo, as Shadow attempted - unsuccessfully - to secure a rabbit supper. I think it would have settled for bat, instead. One of them was trolling the cat mercilessly. There were a couple circling one of the tall area lights. I'm guessing, by their pale undersides and size, they were pallid bats. 

(The following evening, waiting for the air to cool, we would also be visited by a small herd of dark coloured goats. Simon caused a category violation error by meowing at them. They were looking for a way past us, but obviously distrusted the meowing human. After trying first one path, then another, nearly circumnavigating us, making a break for the bridge, and standing quite still about fifty feet off in indecision, eventually they wandered over to a stretch of grass well away from us and settled there. Luckily they had neither fallen foul of a troll nor completed their circuit and summoned their dark master.)

Through the night, the irregular roars and judderings of engine brakes, rumble edge line incursions and just big old engines were too clearly audible from the nearby highway 95. It seemed like I'd hardly closed my eyes when the roosters announced first light. At least it was cool ... 

Still milky-hazy at evening

Morning, and the otherworldly atmosphere did not abate. I got up to make coffee and had words with a cheerfully inquisitive young pig who found the smell of the picnic basket most seductive. She wandered off to try her luck elsewhere, and the peacocks came down from the trees and picturesquely combed the grass for insects. Dawn was clear, but a milky haze descended on the valley not long after, hiding the mountains not ten miles to the south and making for stunning atmospheric effects all day. (Apparently caused by wildfires in California.)

Once the sun came over the hill to the east, the air heated up quickly. We fled in the car and headed north to explore.