New Mexico's Candyland

We were about two steps into Carrizozo, New Mexico, about sixty miles south of Albuquerque, when I realized that we were finally stepping into the unfamiliar leg of the trip. I felt adapted to the desert from all of the time I had exhausted in the area when I was growing up, but several of our next destinations would be into unknown territories. Although the majority of our stops thus far had been original experiences for Jarvis, many of them where places my parents had taken my sister and I when we were young. As far as I could remember, I had never been blessed with the opportunity to visit Carrizozo – a tiny country town that lies in the basin of the Sacramento Mountains. The market there has very few sodas in the cold box, and those that do remain on the shelves have dated labels. The boy behind the register isn’t to impressed with us city folks, but I have to snap photos of his shop and signage anyways.

About half way to our day’s destination we run into a wall of barren beauty – we enter The Valley of Fires and as we maneuver through a dust devil and a rain storm I realize that we are completely surrounded by pahoehoe and aa lava flows that probably cooled here some thousands of years ago. Suddenly we were in a vast land of black lava rocks, and being a woman of science, as I like to say, I can’t help but to enlighten Jarvis on how the different types of formations were created. He doesn’t seem too impressed with “Monique’s 107th random geology fact.”
We pull through Cloudcroft, New Mexico and into the Lincoln National Forest. We roll down the windows and kill the air conditioning – the cool mountain air feels so refreshing after weeks in the valley. The trees smell raw and they appear the color of a Rolling Rock – bottle green. We set up our camp and packed some sandwiches for our evening outing – White Sands National Monument.
We decided to visit the dunes for sunset to try and avoid some of the UV rays that radiate the desolate land around Alamogordo, New Mexico. We pull into the park just as the sun is starting to turn the sky indigo. A few miles in you can start to see bits of white sand on the tips of the rolling brown sand and as it emerges on the side of the road it looks like bits of left over snow, or a morning frost that you find on your lawn in the fall. Suddenly, as the paved road comes to a halt, the miracle of the land comes into sight. This place, my friends, is truly a must see landscape. White dune pillows glisten with crystals in the setting sun. The vast gypsum field is forever stagnant, yet continually moving as the winds redistribute the dunes around the ecosystem. People of all ages sled down the steep slopes of the rolling hills and if not for the excruciating temperatures, one might believe they are in a winter wonderland. Jarvis and I feel like we are on the moon.
We try our hand at sledding, only we don’t have proper equipment so we attempt with a silver sun reflector from the inner windshield of the car. The ride was mediocre at best and I got sand up my shorts – not the best thing when you’re going to be camping with no shower for a few days. The sun sets in the distance, and it takes everything to pull us away from this remarkable place. I’m in love with this arid sweet spot – the sugary mountains make my mouth water and eyes tear out of excitement.
That night I slept like a baby, and had dreams about childhood and friends from my past. I know we would be leaving New Mexico in the morning. I am forever thankful for my time here.