radiopeter

After a tasty breakfast in Albuquerque, I hit the highway to head southwest to the Very Large Array. Basically the HAM radio geek in me wanted to visit a field of giant radio antennae. Not to mention it was featured in that horrible movie Contact with that Jodie Foster. I couldn’t resist, and the trip was well worth it.

Aside from actually getting close to one of the giant dishes, the landscape change was immense. Bigger bushes, drier air, redder land, and more heat.

I’m amazed at how sparse everything seems. I don’t know why it’s surprising because I’ve been in the southwest before, but it really set in today. I keep trying to imagine what living would be like out there. Obviously you’d need to depend on a car for everything. But the stores, the gas stations, food, it’s all so spread out.

Maybe I’m just a spoiled city boy. Entirely possible.

After VLA I made my way down to Truth or Consequences. It was, in a *blink*, over. Not too much to see really. I grabbed some food and pushed on to White Sands.

However, by this time the dirt on the side of the road was giving way to actual sand. Honest to goodness slumps of sand a sparse yucca and rosemary-mint bushes (I think that’s what they call them.) And cacti. Paddle cacti began to litter the slopes of the hills along I-25 as I headed south.

As you come down out of the mountains into the White Sands National Monument, the gypsum sand dunes began to dot the side of the road, Like giant Chia Pets, the dunes are dotted with plant life. Clumps of grasses and yucca make their homes on the dunes.

The monument, the largest gypsum dunes in the world, make up only 2% of the sand dunes around the globe. They are extremely large and very rare in the world, covering something like 200 square miles. The next largest gypsum dunes in line, in Mexico, cover only 8 square miles.

The geology is pretty neat. In a nutshell, the mountains that surround White Sands have created a basin. Unlike a valley, where there is always an exit, a basin is just a big bowl. In a valley, a river made up of water rushing down the mountains eventually carries things away. Not so in a basin. It’s a big bowl. What goes into the bowl doesn’t come out. Unless you are a water molecule.

Over time, rain washed lots of the water-soluble gypsum down into the basin. At the lowest point lies Lake Lucero. Given the climate and the winds, the lake is constantly evaporating, leaving behind lots of crystal disks made up of gypsum. The crystals break (they do have freezing temps, and we all know what water does when it freezes) and mash against each other, the wind blows, and over time the basin has filled with the white gypsum sand. Ok, enough geography.

Driving into White Sands, you’re greeted with a Visitors Center, which I recommend spending a few minutes in. I also recommend arriving later in the day. I arrived around 5pm, but would have preferred a couple more hours to wander around.

Anyway, after paying your $3 at the entrance, you literally drive into the dunes. At first, they are coated in plant life. But as you head deeper in along the 16 mile track, the blacktop road turns into a road carved out of sand (it’s hard) and the dunes become more and more gleaming white.

I jumped out to a ‘boardwalk dune’ train and wandered along the pathway, reading signs about the various plants and animals that live in the area. But I didn’t come here to learn about plants, so I hopped back in the car and drove further in.

In the heart of them, there is very little plant life. Only towering giants of sand that you are encouraged to walk onto. I hopped out of my car at one point, parked in a makeshift semi-circle lot, and climbed onto a dune. About 30 steps in, I realized I wanted to feel it on my feet, so socks and shoes came off and I got the biggest surprise of the day.

It was 85 degrees out and the sand was cool.

Burying my feed just a few inches down, the sand was moist and cold. Cold! Amazing! Here I was thinking all the people I saw running along the dunes must have had asbestos feet. Completely untrue.

I did a quick scan of the horizon to orient myself to what the various mountains looked like (just so I wouldn’t exactly lose myself among the huge dunes) and I set out. Up the soft wind facing side of one dune, and down it’s steep opposite side.

Like huge whales, you can go on and on for a long time if you want. However, at the bottom of a dune, THEY ALL LOOK ALIKE. You can do a 360 and everything looks like everything else, except for the odd yucca or clump of grass. This could be a very dangerous place to get lost.

Some of the sand is really stiff. Walking on it feels a little like concrete. And on the steep side of a dune, the side facing away from the wind, it is soft and pliable. Each step creates a mini-avalanche.

It really is a magical place. For a while, I walked in one direction, over and down a number of dunes. I had a major Dune moment (the books, or the movie, you pick) as I sat down at the crest of one of them. All around me was gleaming sand. No sounds but the breeze, no people anywhere I was empty and full at the same time. Sitting there, thinking about nothing and everything all at once, I had the hunch that at one time Frank Herbert must have visited a desert and felt the spiritual power of it. The awe inspiring nothing/everything-ness of it surely had something to do with his Dune books.

Damn, sitting here, writing this, I want to go back!

I can’t recommend enough the 6:15pm evening stroll tour. It’s led by a ranger (ours was named Kathy I think, super fantastic) and they will explain a ton about the area. It is free, and it’s designed to end just in time to catch the sunset over the mountains. You really should consider a late afternoon visit if you ever get to White Sands. I know I’ll be back with better gear (compass, camelbak, etc.) sometime in the future to dunewalk again.

After White Sands, I decided to find a Motel 6. They did leave the light on for me, and $40 later I was showering in a hot shower, about to collapse from a day on the road. One quirky thing about the water down here. It seems to be so soft that I can’t really tell when all the soap is washed off. Back in Chicago, you can tell when you’ve washed everything off your skin. Not here. It’s still slick.

Something very naughty and exciting in that. Would be nice to shower with someone… But that’s not why I’m here. Not at all.

It’s ten minutes to 6am, and I’ve been up for an hour writing this and getting the pics together. Hopefully I can find an internet café to post this today.

Next stop, Roswell. I’m praying for non-stop alien kitsch.

—

Ok, I’m here in Roswell right now. It’s overcast and gray, and a ton smaller than I imagined. But seriously, there are aliens everywhere! I’m going to put some jeans on (brr, it is still pretty chilly this morning) and wander around with my camera. The visitors center has free internets (faboo!) so that’s how I’m gettin’ to ya’ll.

Off to snap pix of the aliens!

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