Story: The Wonder of White Sands National Monument

The Wonder of White Sands National Monument

One of the things that makes White Sands National Monument so stunning is the starkness of it all. No matter where I stand and where I look, all I can see around me is dunes of white sand. There are a few shrubs that have managed to find a home on the sandy floor, but there's not a tree in sight. I could easily walk away and become disoriented, and that thought is quite humbling.

Many beaches in the world claim to have white sand, but the granules at WSNM easily outshine them all. The sand is made of gypsum, which is rarely found as sand because it is usually dissolved by rain and carried to the sea. However, this particular place in southern New Mexico has no outlet to the sea, so the gypsum crystallizes into a sand.

In the mornings before the sun is up, the dunes provide a lifeless desert chill. The night winds have erased all footprints and tracks on the dunes, leaving only ripples in the sand. As soon as the sun peeks over the mountains, however, the desert also comes to life. Soon the tiny tracks of the black darkling beetle are scattered across the dunes as it marches in search of food. The beetles are easy to spot against the white blanket of sand. I tap one with the toe of my shoe; he angrily stands on his head and raises his large thorax into the air, warning me that if I continue he will spray smelly chemicals at me. I leave him alone, instead watching a bleached lizard as he scrambles for food among the brightly colored flowers that grow in sporadic patches.

The shadows across the dunes and their few plants are long and beautiful. There's such a quietness that it's easy to forget that more visitors can be found just a few dunes away. I snap a few photographs of the scene, but feel a tinge of sadness knowing that my camera will be unable to truly capture the wonder of the scene.

As the sun gets just a bit higher, the desert chill begins to wane. The snow-colored sand acts like a giant reflector, sending the sun's rays everywhere. Thankfully, I've already applied sunscreen. I slip on my sunglasses and take off my jacket. I bend down and run my fingers through the sand, watching the pattern that my hand makes. No matter how hot it gets outside, the sand will always remain cool to the touch.

I walk back toward the parking area. More visitors have arrived, and the dunes nearest the cars are starting to buzz with activities. Children and adults ride down the sandy embankments on plastic sleds as if the desert were a snow-covered resort. Others run at full speed toward a dune's edge and leap into the air, landing in sand so soft that they sink to their knees; they laugh at each other and rise to do it again.

I reach my car and sit in the driver's seat, then remove my shoes and try to remove the hitchhiking sand. Despite my best efforts, I will have sand in my car and shoes for months to come. As always, there's not enough time to see everything that I want to see. I wonder how beautiful it must be here at sunset, and wish that I could stay. But then again, it will always give me a reason to return.