Elephant Butte, White Sands, and the Valley of Fires (Day 3)

During the night, I kept fading into and out of sleep. Most of my waking thoughts were semi-delirious, and stuck in some strange loop, cycling through (1) how cold I was inside of my sleeping bag, (2) how it was much colder outside of my sleeping bag, and (3) I wonder when the life-giving sun will return. Eventually, I noticed it getting light, and woke just sunrise. I didn't drag myself out of bed until the sun had already broken the horizon. Karen was still sleeping, so I left the tent and explored a bit.

Sunrise at Elephant Butte.

I took a trek down the road a bit, and took this shot of our campsite.

Crane in Elephant Butte Lake.

I was really hoping to sneak up further on the crane. It got spooked while I was still pretty far away and flew off.

I reached the shore not too long after. There was no one else awake, as far as I could see. It was kind of nice having the beach to myself. The sun had already begun to warm me up. The distinct lack of vegetation at the shore made the place seem strange to me.


Karen making us a hearty breakfast. She is a pro at this whole camping thing. Our breakfast consisted of BACON, oatmeal (with flax seed, raisins, almonds, cinnamon, and at least one other thing I’m forgetting) and flour tortillas with honey and some sort of chocolate almond spread.

After our leisurely breakfast, we broke camp and headed to WHITE SANDS.

White Sands



Disclosure: I’ve never been to a desert before. I've trekked through mountains, jungles, and swamps. I’ve been to plenty of beaches, some with pretty fair-sized dunes. However, I’ve never been to an honest to god desert, with dune after dune extending to every horizon. As such, White Sands was probably my favorite site on this trip; it was just so –alien-, so unlike anything I’d ever seen before.

Welcome to the moon.

The sand in White Sands is made of incredibly fine quartz crystals. The wind always blows from the same direction and gradually blows the sand from one side of the desert to the other.

There are several popular spots with large parking areas that have been plowed. There were also places where the dunes crept into the road with warning pylons around them, and signs warning to watch out for sand plows.

Visitors can purchase sleds in the gift shop. The sleds were a bit pricey for a piece of molded plastic, but I couldn’t imagine the next time I would be able to sled down a sand dune, so I splurged. Essentially, you could stop anywhere you saw high dunes that looked like they’d be fun to sled down. We kept an eye out for tall, steep ones. The sand is actually very soft if you tumble in it. Such falls are all but inevitable.

So, the thing about sand-sledding that isn’t entirely apparent from the pictures is that it’s not nearly as quick as sledding in snow. I had to use my feet to push off and half the time to keep going. Perhaps I was doing it wrong. However, if you end up having one side of the sled dig into the sand, you can tumble pretty and quickly.

Karen getting ready to sled down a hill.

It's really a pretty relaxed ride.

After sledding a bit, we hiked off into the dunes. Because Karen had planned out everything in advance, she had told me to pick up sunglasses. I didn’t bother trying to find glasses that would go over my prescription lenses; I went for the snow boarding goggles.

Karen in the vast emptiness.


I carved my monogram into the shifting sand. I’m sure there is some metaphor here.

The wind started picking up while we were there. You can see the sand blowing across some of the dunes. Later on, while we stood atop another crest, the sand battered us relentlessly. The sun was a big ball of unrelenting rage.


Most trails I’ve been on have been hikes in a mountain or forest. I’ve even been on some grassland trails. One trait remained constant despite the terrain – a path was apparent, either paved or gravel or dirt packed by the passage of many feet. In White Sands, the trail is a set of guideposts through the dunes. You reach one, then scan the horizon for the next guidepost. You are free to leave the trail as you wish – there are no signs or barriers. That's a risk you can take, of course, but they advise taking a map and compass. In this picture, you can see one of the guideposts on the crest of the next hill. This was one of the strangest trails I’ve been on, and, because of this strangeness, one of the most fun.


Karen, battered by the incessant wind and scorched by the merciless sun, stands atop the next rise.

Hopefully this gives some idea of the wind speed in the dunes that afternoon.

We rested for a time on top of one of the dunes.

So, this is how the terrain looks at the entrance to White Sands. Not everything is dunes - bushes and plants become more sparse and smaller the deeper you go into the dunes. This looks like some beaches I've seen.

Valley of Fires

We left White Sands in the middle of the afternoon on Sunday. We ended up having dinner at a chain restaurant (Applebee’s, I think), in Almogordo. However, because we left White Sands relatively late in the day, we reached the Valley of Fires well after sunset. We passed some campers, but for the most part the park was empty and dark. Unlike the previous night, there was heavy cloud cover. We couldn't see any stars. We parked and walked down the small hiking trail, flashlights and tripod in hand. After several hundred feet, we left the trail in search of the lava rocks we knew to be in the park’s interior.

What would a vacation with Karen be if she did not pick up or touch rocks?


Karen victoriously finds LAVA to walk on.

So, the flash from my camera is a bit harsh. We got the idea that if we set up the tripod with a 30 second shutter speed, then shined the flashlight back and forth where the camera was pointed, we could selectively illuminate the scene. I like this shot because it reminds me of underwater vent pictures I've seen.

Karen is looking for her Preciousssss.

A sedate Charlie caught on camera!

The Valley of Fires is fun!

We still have a long drive ahead of us to get back to Santa Fe. It was noteworthy only in that, on some random road, a three-foot wide tumbleweed flew into the road right in front of us. It's probably a good thing that Karen was driving. She just plowed over it. I'm not used to large objects flying in front of my car, and would likely have tried to swerve. It was a tough drive to do, on account of exhaustion on both of our parts. Still, we took shifts, refueled with some McDonald's fries and a smoothie, and persevered.

So, thanks to Karen for planning out and accompanying me on this mini-road trip. It was a blast.