On the remote eastern side of Steens Mountain, five thousand feet below the head of Wildhorse Canyon, is farmland, or at least these evidences of someone's fantasy that this arid but magnificent land might thrive. Although one can imagine the din this iron-tired beast might have made on the land, now, at the new millenium, the silence in this land is so deep it is deeply unsettling. The nearest real town is over 100 miles distant.
Nearby rests the horse-drawn buggy that transported the isolated farmers to destinations where they sought conviviality and laughter. They could travel south to the schoolhouse in Andrews, or they could set their sights north to the Whitehorse Ranch on the shores of the Alvord Desert. The scene in the 1990's is sad; the buggy is parked probably forever in this quiet aspen grove. Time has left it lonely.