This would be the world's most remote Prada store, if it were a store at all—but in Marfa, Texas, nothing is quite what it seems. Which other small town can boast art in the shape of stores, unexplained lights on the horizon, breathtaking natural scenery and a goat-sucking vampire? We take a grand tour of America's most surreal town to investigate.

Log on to Google Earth, type in the name "Marfa, Texas," and wait for a moment. The globe will spin and your hard drive will whir as you begin the descent from outer space toward the surface of the earth. Down and down you'll plunge, swooping in over the Atlantic, through the Gulf of Mexico and onto land. As you zoom in, you'll fly past the canyons of Big Bend National Park, swoop over the giant plains of the high desert and eventually arrive at a tiny and seemingly insignificant little town.

Welcome to Marfa, Texas: population 2,549. But to tell the story of Marfa with statistics and geography is not to tell the story of Marfa at all, and I should know—after only one week in this surreal place, I was seduced. I'm not sure what it was that caught my imagination, but then, like so many New Yorkers who find themselves here, it's difficult to explain why Marfa is so intoxicating. Some say it's because of the avant garde art movement here; some believe it's the town's association with James Dean, Elizabeth Taylor and the film Giant; while others are drawn here by tales of unexplained phenomena such as the mysterious Marfa lights or the specter of the chupacabra goat-sucking vampire.

All I know is that three years ago, I came here to do a story for New York magazine and a week after leaving, this self-confessed New York city girl had bought a plot of land on the outskirts of Marfa (sold unseen). Strangely, up until now I haven't returned, which, as my friends have reminded me at every opportunity in the last three years, was a crazy thing to do, but that's Marfa for you. It's a weird and wonderful place that makes you do weird and wonderful things. The question is, "Why?" To search for the answer, it's time to leave Google Earth and New York and head "home."

To really understand Marfa, you need to put it into context. And for that you need to head 100 miles south to Big Bend National Park. The place is gigantic. At over 800,000 acres, Big Bend is one of the largest national parks in America, yet I'd embarrassingly never heard of it before visiting Marfa the first time. Perhaps it's the park's highly remote location in the southwestern-most part of Texas, right on the Mexican border. Or the comparatively small number of yearly visitors—just 350,000 versus Yellowstone's four million. Accordingly, unlike Yellowstone, which can feel crowded at all times of year, Big Bend Park seems blissfully empty.

Except, that is, at the Chisos Mountains Lodge, where I spend the first night of my journey. This is clearly where the action is—chockfull of Teva- and fleece-wearing tourists, shopping for such gems as "real Texas chili mix" and crafty silver and turquoise jewelry in the reception area, which doubles as a gift shop. But while the lodge may be basic, it does have incredible views of the rocky Casa Grande Peak that rises dramatically above, and of the curvaceous valleys below, blooming with blue and yellow wildflowers.

Driving at sunrise I get an eyeful of it all. In this type of country, you don't have to listen to the weather forecast; instead, you can watch the weather coming from miles away. The rocky mountain ranges—in this case, the Chisos—seem to follow you as you drive.

Of course, it's pure coincidence that a park with the name "Big Bend" also boasts some of America's greatest driving roads, but as the sun rises and the twisting road reveals itself to me, I can't help but feel that someone on the "National Parks Naming Committee" had been given a tip-off all those years ago.

Judging by the number of sports cars that I come across en route, I'm not the only one enjoying the ribbons of tarmac that link the different regions of the park. But while it's tempting to explore the dynamics of the Supercharged Range Rover Sport, the natural beauty here entices me to slow down and breathe in the incredible scenery. Better to enjoy the view offered by the Command Driving Position, ease my foot a little further off the gas, and relax.

They say there are 67 types of reptiles, 75 species of mammals (including mountain lions, coyotes and bears) and over 450 types of birds that populate this desert landscape. But again, it's an example of statistics not providing the whole picture. This is an epic landscape and not unlike being on a high-definition Wild West movie set. You start to get a sense of why this part of the world holds such an appeal—especially for harassed New Yorkers. In fact, you can sum it up in one word: space. Come here and the skyscrapers, noise and supersized nature of New York seems confining and claustrophobic. Here you have the space to step back and think.

I drive on, past miles and miles of this Chihuahuan Desert landscape that changes constantly, dotted with agave and cactus plants, giving way to hilly stretches with cottonwood trees spread along twisty roads. The road joins the unusually muddy Rio Grande, following its broad curves. Eventually, I leave the official park boundaries, and signs of civilization begin to emerge.

Gas stations, for example. Old gas stations with the kinds of pumps that don't take credit cards, run by white-haired men with sunravaged skin who spend their days watching The Price Is Right on old black-and-white televisions. Roadside diners overrun by helmetless bikers riding gorgeous old Harleys, and Native Americans. Roadside eateries with names like Kathy's Kosmic Kowgirl Kafe.

But for the main part, the route as we near Marfa is marked with flatlands, cows grazing on scrubby grasses, barbed-wire cattle fences and big open skies. It's no coincidence that an artistic community has sprung up in a place of such natural beauty, but the relationship here is not a literal one. This is not a place that the artists of Marfa would come to paint, but an environment that fuels the very creativity that makes Marfa such a special place.