I sit in Okinawa and dream of spending a week at the Sheldon Antelope Wildlife reserve. The idea is to set up camp under shady trees beside small lake and take photos of the thousands of antelope that will pass by. It does not really work out like that.

I gently make my way North stopping at wonderful campsites and playing with camping toys.

I finally make it to the Antelope reserve in the wildest part of Nevada. To my surprise they have removed Antelope from the name.

It is the most godforsaken place. Hundreds of square miles of very badlands- no trees, no water, no animals, no birds, especially no antelope.

I drive all day across a very broken track and see nothing. I do feel that there is something wrong and check the turnbuckles that attach the camper to the truck. Sure enough the hooks on the two rear turnbuckles have opened up and they have fallen off. Luckily I am able to bash the hooks closed again with a 2 pound lump hammer and after an hour’s labour in 100 degree heat, I am able to get going again.

My aim is to drive across the reserve and end up in a camp site that apparently has a tree and water. After 4 hours the trail ends up at a ruined cabin that is surrounded by water. There is no sign of any trail heading towards the campsite. There is however finally some wildlife around the water.

I despair of finding the trail to the campsite and highly dis-spirited return the way I came across the bad bad lands. Incidentally I see no human throughout. After 8 hours of hammering across terrible terrain I end up at the camp. Well done truck.

It is getting dark as I set up. The camp is a flat, volcanic rock parking lot with views of desolation for miles in every direction.. No trees, various encampments of travelling people on the extreme end of the weird spectrum. Lots of flags, lots of dogs. Not what I had imagined in Okinawa – no antelope.

Next day everything changes for the better of course. I meet up with other residents who are all charming. They call me Sir until I ask them to call me Neil. They then call me Mr Neil. Such interesting people. ” I was in Stuttgart in 1960 with the military. What a mess, the whole city had been bombed to shit. People were still living in the ruins. We don’t really understand war here in the U.S.” He and his wife, both in their eighties, were gently trundling around the country in their RV.

There is a large hot spring at the end of the site in which I soak for most of the day and chew the fat with American nomads.

Someone has built a shack and joined the water from the hot spring to two showers that run 24/7.

Not really what I had planned but so much fun.