Sunny and warm, clouding over late afternoon
180 miles
Having got up around 8.00, I had breakfast in the form of a juice and danish pastry from a nearby garage, and left around 9.30, refuelling the car on the way out of town. I took the freeway south for seventy miles to Las Cruces, the largest town since Albuquerque, and turned off in order to find somewhere to buy something to have for lunch later. I tried a K-mart to no avail (while it had a very persuasive mobile phone salesman, all I could find in terms of lunch were some two-day-old sandwiches) and spent a while driving around before stopping at a garage and purchasing a sandwich.
I left Las Cruces to the east on Highway 70, leaving the Rio Grande valley which I had been following since Albuquerque, save for the detour from Socorro. For about 15 miles east of the town, the road was undergoing some major reconstruction work, virtually as far as the San Agustin Pass through the Organ Mountains. At the top of the pass, the view opened out to the east, offering a view over just some of the vast expanse of land that is the White Sand Missile Range. This vast expanse of land covers 2,500 square miles and extends from near Las Cruces to near Socorro.
I turned off shortly afterwards onto a side road leading to Aguirre Springs State Park, set partway up the eastern flank of the Organ Mountains. This pleasant area had a small campground with various picnic tables. I paid the day use charge by stuffing three dollar bills into an envelope and dropping it into a box, and settled down to enjoy my lunch in this pleasant location.
While eating, I noticed something moving on a nearby tree -- a small lizard with a mottled brown back but a very bright green throat and underside. It posed conveniently for a few photographs before scampering off on its business, and I returned to the table to finish my lunch. It was not alone in posing for photographs -- a couple asked me to do so and I duly obliged. His wife then asked me which part of Texas I was from. She had seen the car's licence plate but not heard my accent. We had a brief conversation before they continued on their way and I decided it was time to head off on mine.
Not far from Aguirre Springs is a small museum on the missile range, but as this is closed Sundays there was no point in stopping. I continued northeast across the empty desert expanse for some considerable distance, until I noticed to my left the white dunes of White Sands National Monument getting closer and closer to the road.
Just ahead, all traffic was being stopped at a checkpoint. I assumed at first that this was a military affair, but to my surprise it proved out to be Border Control. I was required to show my passport, which I did not have immediately to hand since I was the best part of 200 miles from the Mexican frontier. I made a mental note to keep my passport more accessible for the next few days at least.
The next turnoff took me into White Sands National Monument. I stopped first at the adobe and timber visitor centre, acquiring a map and further supplies of mineral water, then watching a short film about the dunes, before heading out to see them for myself.
The sands lie in a basin between two mountain ranges, unusual in that nowhere does it drain to the sea -- any precipitation in the region simply evaporates. Weathering of the mountains to the west dissolves gypsum (calcium sulphate), and the water collects in a large shallow seasonal lake, Lake Lucero. As this evaporates, gypsum crystals are deposited which are themselves weathered and blown to the east by the prevailing winds. It is these fine white crystals which form the dunes, the largest gypsum dunes in the world. White Sands National Monument itself covers roughly half the area of the dunes. The remainder lie within the missile range, and the National Monument and main road are occasionally closed as a precaution during testing.
A short way up the road, just beyond the dunes themselves, lay the Playa Trail. This crossed the dried bed of a shallow lake which only appears after heavy rains. It was interesting to walk across the centre of the lake and feel underfoot the changes in the texture of the ground.
Next stop was at the Big Dune Nature Trail, on the edge of the dunes. Here there was considerable plantlife in evidence, some of it having been growing there quite happily before the arrival of the sands. Some plants adopt the tactic of rapid growth in order to keep their heads above the dunes, although as the dune passes by they then tend to collapse. Others have an extensive root system in the sand, and form a strong pillar of sand around it which then stays as the dune moves on. On the crests of the dunes, the sands could be seen moving just above the ground surface in the breeze. In heavy winds, sandstorms are almost inevitable and visibility can be severely limited.
Further in was the inter-dune boardwalk system, allowing allcomers an easy opportunity to experience the delicate balance between the dunes themselves and the areas between them, which are repeatedly covered and uncovered as the winds move the dunes on.
Beyond this point, the paved road ran out and the roadway consisted of compacted gypsum sands, a smooth surface considering. It led to the heart of the dunes, an area almost devoid of plantlife and with nothing but whiteness as far as the eye could see (other than the other visitors). I parked by a large dune at the end of the road and decided to climb it for a better view of this almost alien landscape. This proved to be worthwhile but quite a struggle, as the sands easily shifted under my weight and filled my boots. I was finding traces of it around for days afterwards.
A trail led from this area across the dunes to Alkali Flat beyond -- a vast void which was the bottom of the huge Lake Otero during the last Ice Age, before the lake evaporated. This was a couple of miles away and I was not going to head out there that evening, but just walk a short distance around the dunes to take in the scenery in the evening light. Away from the tourists playing on the dunes and the trail out to Alkali Flat, there were few visible signs of life -- the occasional plant, some with delicate purple flowers, and jet-black darkling beetles scurrying across the surface, leaving light tracks as it did so, barely perceptible compared to the great footprints I myself was leaving.
I stayed out there some time to take in the landscape but eventually decided it was time to move on. The nearest accommodation was at Alamogordo, some 16 miles to the east. The road here took me past Holloman Air Force base, which evidently generated quite a bit of local traffic, then curved round to the north in Alamogordo (Spanish for cottonwood), forming a long strip through the town centre and continuing several miles further north. I had decided to go for the town's Super 8 motel, which I found easily.
I enquired as to rates and found them lower than the motel book had led me to believe -- it turned out that there was a special ``Mother's Day'' discount. I mentioned that where I came from, Mother's Day was long gone, but I wasn't going to object to the discount (though to be fair, as a Super 8 ``VIP Club'' member, I would have got it in any case).
The immediate area was slightly lacking in restaurants -- the motel book listed one as being adjacent but this was closed. There was a basic Mexican/American place across the street named Ramona's, and I had an acceptable if uninspiring beef `special'. I returned to the motel afterwards, and did my usual thing of planning what to do the next day. On television I found an animated series based on the ``Dilbert'' cartoon strip, which served to pass the time for a while before I retired for the night at 11.20.