When Time Hangs Suspended

Pensive. I hadn't meant to rush things so much. I was on my last day of winter travelling before I had to head home, and I woke up near Tucson, AZ surrounded by saguaro cacti. I left the area around noon and made my way east, vaguely thinking I might stop at White Sands National Monument in south-central New Mexico to catch the sunset, maybe find a place to stay overnight. If I'd been thinking while I packed for the trip I would have brought my backpacking gear with me and stayed in the park, but I hadn't thought I'd need it. I can't say I'm a huge fan of winter camping anyway. I drove pretty much without stop to get to White Sands before the park closed to incoming traffic, though the gate would allow visitors to leave after sunset.

I barely made it, but I got there ten minutes before the entrance gates closed. I briefly chatted with a ranger about maybe camping on the dunes anyway, but I didn't feel like carrying most of my stuff in my arms, plus keep track of Hoodoo, at sunset through the dunes. In the end, I made my way with a crowd of other visitors along the park road, intent on getting to the end and claiming a spot to watch the sun sink beyond the distant mountains.

On a whim I stopped at a gathering place for a ranger-led sunset hike, thinking I might go with the group and watch the sun set from wherever the ranger took us. Everyone was, of course, smitten with my little orange adventure kitten, and he got plenty of pets and ear scratches as the group swelled. The ranger started the hike, with me tailing behind to keep anyone from stepping on my cat, and we began our walk up the nearest dune. It was around that time Hoodoo decided he wasn't interested in going with the group and put the brakes on, forcing me to wait for him while he sniffed around and made it pretty clear he didn't want to go in the direction of the group. It only took me a few minutes to give up and give in to him, abandoning the group hike, scooping him up, and loading him into the car.

I was still determined to see the sunset over the pure white sands of the dunes, though, so I drove to the end of the park road and parked next to the sea of white sand, slinging the cat over my shoulders (his favorite place to chill) and grabbing my camera before starting to climb. I'd forgotten how much walking on loose sand sucks! One step forward, half a step back, every single foot a fight to gain. Eventually we made it to the top of the closest dune and I was surprised and distressed to see how far the sun had already sank towards the horizon, so I flat out broke into a run, trying to get away from other visitors crowding the dunes closest to the parking lot.

Eventually I stopped, having gone far enough to satisfy myself, setting Hoodoo down on the sand while I fiddled with my camera settings, looking for photo opportunities. If you ever get the chance or desire to see the gypsum sands of White Sands National Monument, I highly recommend you do so, making sure to stick around for sunset. Even better, stay overnight in the park (backpacking only, no established campgrounds) and catch the sunrise as well. I have yet to stay overnight, but I tentatively have a plan to do so this year. The sunsets there, though, rival any I've seen. The sinking sun dyes the white sands shades of gold, and if you're lucky enough to have a few clouds in the sky their orange glow reflects onto the deep shadows cast by the dunes, bathing everything in light. And when the sun finally sets behind the mountains, when time hangs suspended in the desert air, and the light in the sky begins to dim, more shades of blue than you can possibly name play across the sand.