A Quarter Mile Is All the Fence You Need
Some people want a driveway. Some people want the opposite: a piece of ground the truck can't quite reach, so the only footprints on it are theirs. If you're the second kind, the price of every parcel with a road to the door has been telling you no for years. This one says yes, and it says it about 1,500 feet past the nearest road.
Park where the dirt track ends, shoulder the pack, and walk up onto five acres at 4,806 feet of high desert. Set the tent where the ground is level, build a fire ring that will still be there next trip, and watch the Gunsight Ranch country go dark in every direction (the stars out here don't compete with anything, including you). Hudspeth County has no zoning and no clock, so a small cabin someday is your call, and camping in the meantime is nobody's business but yours.
You're north of Sierra Blanca, about half an hour from town by the time you've made the walk, and roughly an hour and a half east of El Paso. Sierra Blanca's courthouse, built in 1920, is the only adobe courthouse still doing its job in Texas, which tells you something about how this county likes to do things: the old way, and for a long time.
The trade is the road, or the absence of one: no road reaches the lot, no power comes near it, and every gallon of water arrives on your back or in your truck bed (that's also why it costs what it costs, and why it stays empty between your visits).
Out here nobody is going to find your campsite by accident. That is the whole idea.