Being a Kid in White Sands National Park
March 2nd, 2020: A cotton candy sunset sweeps the gypsum sands that rise and roll within New Mexico’s Tularoosa Basin. White Sands National Park is a natural wonder like no other.
White Sands National Park – America's youngest national park, #62. Its ever-changing dune fields are an absolute must-see, an absolute must-sled, and an absolute score for anyone who loves walking barefoot in the sand or making sand angels. Trust me on that last one – there is something so relaxing about laying on a dune and feeling cool waves of sand wash over your hands, legs, and arms as you move in that classic snow angel manner.
So if you're adding White Sands to your list, you should definitely buy the sled...and if you're gonna buy the sled, you might as well buy the wax to make the sled fly faster, and if you wax your sled, why not share the goodness with whoever else is sledding nearby. I gave my wax to newfound friends: grandson Kenny and grandmother Gail – a sweet pair from Texas. With dunes aplenty to glide down, there were more than enough for everyone in town to have their own, but I spent some time sharing a dune with Kenny and Gail because they were awesome. We had a blast racing down one especially steep dune together. Climbing up the soft, white sand repeatedly was grueling, but well worth the exertion. An approximate 10-year-old, an approximate 30-year-old, and an approximate 65-year-old – we were a trio of travelers from all different walks and stages of life.
On one run, I waited for Kenny at the top of the dune as Gail sat below to referee our race to the bottom. And on his climb up, Kenny asked me, "Are you a teenager or an adult?" It wasn't the first time in my adult years I'd been asked that. Walking up from my mailbox one afternoon a few years back, a man in a minivan pulled up to the base of my driveway to ask for directions and abruptly interrupted himself with a pressing question, "Wait...are you a kid or an adult?" And at the time, I wasn't really sure…I guess I was somewhere in between...I hope to always be somewhere in between.
But it was a pretty cute question coming from Kenny. I was flattered to be considered a potential teen by a child...kids are always so honest...if he thought I'd looked hefty and hairy, there's a good chance it would've come out then and there. I admitted that I was an adult, and Kenny paused to reflect with no expression on his face. Then he asked if I had kids. I told him I didn't, and he quickly and adorably replied, "Well, that's ok, you'll probably have kids soon, then, right?" Even with my black shades and a smile on, he saw right through my wishy-washy, "Hmm… I'm not so sure," response. Kids are so smart, so perceptive, "You don't want to have kids, do you?" I confessed, "No. No, I don't." He paused to reflect. "How come?" he asked so innocently. Not wanting him to get the impression I wasn't a fan of his or that I was some kind of kid-hater, I explained, "Well, if you have kids, you don't get to be a kid anymore...and I…I like to be a kid sometimes…a kid at heart." I wasn't sure he really got it, maybe one some level he did. But in that moment, I was reminded of how adult-like kids can be, how they understand and pick up on far more than we give them credit for.
"Ready – on the count of three – one, two..." and Kenny was off to the races on two! I still beat him to the bottom. I knew that meant I'd have to let him win the next time. Kenny liked rolling off his sled dramatically down the dunes, like a runaway tire. He belly-flopped into the sand when he got to the bottom, in true kid fashion. And again in true kid fashion, when Grandma Gail and I wanted to sit the next run out to chat and rest our legs, Kenny pleaded for us to join him again. I was about to cave 'cause that kid was tough to say no to, but Grandma Gail was a pro, "We want to watch you come down on your own!" "Ok! I'll show ya!" Kenny said as he slowly scurried back up the dune. It was a lot of work climbing up those dunes...for young legs and the young at heart alike.
While we sat the next few races out, I learned that Gail was living my dream (minus kids and grandkids). Retired, cruising the country with her man in their pickup truck plus trailer. They'd eventually make their way back to Texas to bring Kenny back to his dad, then they were thinking of heading up to Yellowstone for the summer months. And that was about as far as their plans went. I thought that was so cool. Even though, if I had years of roaming free to look forward to, I'd find it tough not to plan where I'd spend the next six to eight seasons.
I told her how I'd met a retired couple in Yellowstone last summer who'd sold everything they owned to buy an RV and live life bouncing from park to park, state to state, seasonal job to the next. I told her how I didn't want to wait till retirement to embrace that kind of life. I think I was somewhat hoping she'd have some sort of magic answer, some mystical road map, or sentence of wisdom that would become the direction I needed to put my plan into full effect. But sometimes what you're looking for isn't what you find. Sometimes when you stop looking is when you find something great. Maybe it was just appreciating my time with them and enjoying the feel of the sand between my fingers and toes.
After a while, I decided I'd start to mosey on down the road for the Heart of the Sands and Alkali Flat. My departure was met with some sweet resistance from my new friend Kenny. I raced one last dune with him and lost, and I think he waved goodbye to me until I was completely out of sight. I'm still grateful for my time spent with them.
A little way up the road, I found my next spot to sink into the sand. It was so cool, the breeze was so strong, and the sun was just mildly warm, it was my perfect mixture of the elements. I laid there for a while – half my body buried in white sand, the other half lying on it. I tried to make sandcastles with my hands, but the winds quickly smoothed them away.
An alarm went off on my phone reminding me to sell my sled back down at the visitor center before it closed for the day. And since I wasn't going to check it or try to carry it on for my connecting flights home from El Paso the next day, I figured I might as well make a few bucks back on it. I got there a little before 5:00 pm, which was perfect timing to get back up to the designated sunset stroll parking lot that a ranger mentioned earlier while I was stamping my National Parks Passport.
I arrived as others were beginning to gather around the friendly ranger I'd met that afternoon. We all stood in the sand, waiting for more to join, and Marie decided to get us all acquainted. She introduced herself as a volunteer who's worked in Alaska, Wyoming, Washington, and beyond. She shared that she was a native New Yorker, born and raised in The Bronx. Say what?! I think my jaw might've dropped a little when she said it. I was so excited…I knew there was something about her I liked…something special about how we'd gotten along down at the visitor center earlier. I couldn't wait for it to be my turn in the circle so I could tell her I too am a native New Yorker, born and raised just north of her hometown.
Our group was made up of folks from Virginia, Australia, Ohio, France, Washington, and Louisiana…we even had a woman from Spain, her boyfriend from Germany, and their puppy from Texas on the tour with us. Everyone got a kick out of that and the pup's unstoppable digging in the sand. Eventually, it was my turn to tell Marie that I was also from New York, "Westchester County," I said with a smile. "Get out! Where in Westchester," she asked. Assuming she wouldn't have heard of the town, "Yorktown Heights?" I said, almost asking. "What high school did you go to," Marie asked. I told her, and wouldn't you know it – Marie graduated from the very same high school! Really, truly, what were the odds of this?! From New York to New Mexico?! I couldn't believe it! I still can't believe it!
Everyone around us gasped and laughed and smiled. Marie explained that when she was a teenager, her parents moved them out of the city to a little town next to mine, and so it became her alma mater. We reminisced on a few local places we'd both know...streets and stores. There was quite an age gap between us, so we wouldn't have had any teachers in common. But it was a fun reunion with a perfect stranger. No wonder I'd felt connected to her down at the visitor center. While she was ringing up my souvenir postcards, pins, and hoodie, she thought something had rung up incorrectly. And being the honest human she is, it didn't matter how many people lined up behind me, Marie went back through every last thing and made it right. What a woman.
After everyone knew where everyone was from, we began our 1-mile leisurely stroll to a hidden clearing with breathtaking 360-degree views. Marie was our guide and our teacher of so much. I wish I could remember it all. In her bag, she brought laminated photos for us to pass around, samples of selenite, gypsum, and glasses found right there in the desert. She even carried two shovels to dig beneath the white sand surface, and she passed them around, full of sand so we could feel how wet it was. She taught us that those desert sands hold more water than any other desert sands in the world. And that's why they were so cold to touch, and that's how the dunes don't blow away. I'd imagine it's also part of what provides nutrients to sustain life for the many plants scattered throughout the park.
We also learned that there's still so much scientists have yet to understand about the dunes and their hydrology. It seems that the more they've discovered, the more questions are uncovered. The fact that White Sands even exists is something to marvel over. If it weren't for the sacred Sacramento and San Andres Mountains caging the dunes in, to form the Tularosa Basin, and if it weren't for Lake Lucero capturing and creating new gypsum sands, this place wouldn't exist. An elaborate environmental cycle of crystallizing and recrystallizing minerals keeps adding to the supply of these rare gypsum sands, originally created by the ancient sea that covered the Great American Southwest millions of years ago.
Approximately 95% of the world's gypsum exists here at White Sands, and it is the largest gypsum dune field on Earth. 275 square miles of gypsum dunes, to be exact. "The gypsum dunes move in waves like a dry ocean," Filmmaker Harun Mehmedinović found the perfect description.
What a treasure this place is. Spectacular sunsets, a landscape that literally changes with the wind, as much or as little learning as you'd like, as much or as little solitude as you'd like, fun, sand-sledding, seeing and hearing supersonic jets flying overhead from nearby Holloman Air Force Base. There's a whole lot just waiting to enchant you in your newest National Park.
