After eight days of roughin’ it in her Houston home without electricity—due to Hurricane Ike—photojournalist Debora Smail took off in her beige Volkswagen Beetle. She headed out on a quest to find out why Marathon, a 5-square-mile town in West Texas, lures more than an estimated 30,000 to 40,000 big city folks a year.

Admittedly, Smail is not “the outdoors type.” But after three gas stops and a nine-hour drive, she arrived for a four-night stay in the Chihuahuan desert town, and nobody could distract her from chronicling its essence. “Marathon really is, ‘what you see, is what you get,’” she says.

Fighting for Survival

Smail approached Marathon as the sun set behind distant mountain ranges. A few miles outside the unincorporated town, she pulled over and took the first images. “I had a sense of urgency because I knew in about 15 minutes the sunset would be gone,” she says. “What stood out were these yellow wildflowers. I started to think about the whole survival aspect of this terrain.”

She kneeled down to get eye-to-eye with the flowers and caught them proudly standing in front of the subtle evening sun settling between mountain slopes.

Back in the car, Smail slowed from 75 to 45 miles per hour and passed a weathered iron sign: Marathon established in 1882, elevation 4,040 feet. The Chamber of Commerce touts the town as the “Gateway to Big Bend National Park,” which is only 40 miles south.

“Mountains are always in the background, but this is still big sky country,” Smail says. “The land appears broader because you can see farther, and the rolling terrain and bluffs seem to build at a distance.”

Owner of Reality Photography, Smail is no stranger to rural communities. She grew up in Cloudcroft, N.M., which has a comparable population of about 800 to Marathon’s 550. Still, she didn’t expect such critter sightings as prairie dogs, emu roadkill and a rattle snake. “I was setting up my tripod just outside Marathon when, for the first time in my life, I was near a rattlesnake,” she recalls. “It was about 10 feet away, so I threw my equipment in the car and drove to another spot.”

Checking-in, Tuning Out

For her first three nights, the budget-minded photojournalist stayed at the Marathon Motel and RV Park for $59 a night. A red neon sign greets guests with nostalgia.

Though affordable, the accommodations were comfortable, and outdoor spaces fostered connection to the vast outdoors. “My room had a little patio where I would enjoy the cool mornings,” Smail says, “and in the evenings, I would sit in the courtyard gardens and watch the beautiful sunset.”

Built in 1940, the motel has gone through many hands. For decades, golden bulbs have flashed that it offers TV service. Today, in addition to wireless Internet access, cable TV is available there. “I didn’t really watch television, though,” Smail says.

Instead, on her first morning in Marathon, she used her iPhone to record the audible spectrum of the town. “Mostly, it was so quiet in my room that all I could hear was the chirping of birds, but every few hours, the peace was interrupted by a train that I could hear coming from miles away,|” she says. “In fact, both hotels where I stayed offered earplugs on the nightstands.”

She ventured into town, riding along with her VW Bug top down. Bushes, rocks and desert plants fronted humble homes, and there wasn’t a green lawn in sight. With the exception of a few semi-trucks, traffic was scarce. But she guessed that Sundays bring a small rush of residents to 3rd Street, where three churches are aligned, including St. Mary’s Catholic Church with its tiled depiction of the Virgin Mary.

Since she had forgotten to pack a toothbrush, she stopped in the French Co. Grocer, established by W.M. French in 1900. “It’s the only place to buy anything that you might need in Marathon,” she says. “They have a deli, offer Internet access and sell hiking gear.”

The clerk recommend a trip to Post Park, five miles south of town. There, the spring-fed pool at the old cavalry post attracts swimmers and birdwatchers. When the breeze blows, the feathery trees around the sparkling pond mimic wind chimes. “The clerk said that’s where she and her family would go in the summer for picnics and where the town would hold dances,” Smail says.

Rustic Indulgence

On her last night in Marathon, Smail embraced her fortunate assignment of staying at The Gage Hotel and touring the gorgeous property. “As I drove up to the hotel, its stature caught me by surprise,” she says. “The sight of this terra cotta-colored brick building against an orange sky was pretty amazing.”

At the entrance, heavy, wrought iron door hardware, an ornate copper ceiling and candlelight chandelier and speak Western-style elegance. Smail stayed in a section of the hotel called Los Portales, where every room features a covered front porch facing a courtyard with a stone fountain and roses. The adobe rooms boast exposed timbers and Saltillo tile.

She visited one king suite that exemplified why people come to The Gage for rustic luxury. Blue and brown floral paintings accent adobe walls, and a saddle reflects the history of the hotel founded in 1927 by rancher Alfred Gage. Down comforters and a cozy fireplace set the stage for a good night’s sleep.

Smail watched executive chef Paul Petersen work his magic in the hotel’s Café Cenizo. He puts passion into everything he creates, from his French-inspired American Bison Steak Frites to his pan-seared scallops atop of grilled Belgian endive and his triple chocolate bread pudding sliced into the shape of Texas.

The San Antonio-born chef who trained in Manhattan and grew a following in his former Austin restaurant describes the himself and the hotel as “a little bit country, a lot of rock ’n’-roll.”

“I tried to get shots of him with his tattoos, white t-shirt and jeans, but he had something much cooler in mind,” Smail says. “He put on his custom-designed black chef’s jacket that has a red yoke inlaid with three black leather cattle skulls.”

Fine art, white linens, sparkling stemware, produce from an in-house garden and an extensive wine selection are all part of the opulent Texas dining experience at Café Cenizo. Smail noticed that Petersen’s bold cuisine attracts all types, including ranchers decked out in their finest cowboy hats and starched shirts and couples on romantic getaways.

“I can’t imagine The Gage not being part of Marathon,” she says. “It’s a little oasis that awards those willing to make the drive.”

Isolation that Inspires

The wide landscape, pervasive quiet and solitude of Marathon inspire artistic expression, Smail found. The Baxter Gallery specializes in Big Bend scenes and sculptures of local wildlife. And one creative local who caught her eye was James Graham, who was peddling his new book, Bandits along the Border. Sitting along the wooden counter of Shirley’s Burnt Biscuit coffee shop, the retired cavalry border patrolman told Smail that “all fiction is based on truth.” In addition to writing, he helps his sister and brother-in-law run the shop.

Now that Smail knows the remote destination is worth the trip, she plans to bring a friend on her next visit. “Marathon is a place to decompress and think,” Smail says. “You can take in some art and eat some really good food, but you’re really out there to get away from the chaos a little bit.”