A 'cosmic' experience at White Sands

A late afternoon view of the white sand dunes.
Highway Hasman Photo

The soreness that I felt on Monday were the aftereffects from a trip to the White Sands National Monument, located about 15 miles southwest of Alamogordo, New Mexico.

Pain is only temporary, but the memories of the adventure are not.

The wake-up call

Getting up at 5 a.m. is not the ideal way to start a Saturday morning, but I admit I was antsy last weekend.

I got my butt up, jumped into the Subaru and headed to the front gates of the park entrance. 

At 7 a.m., the ranger opened the door and let a cavalcade of vehicles waiting on the U.S. Highway 70 shoulder enter. After a few minutes of driving down a winding two-lane asphalt paved road things began to change.

The asphalt began to disappear and in its stead was a white substance that coated the road. It looked like snow, but it wasn't. 

"Just drive slow and respect the road," I muttered to myself as driving conditions became slick.

Moments later, I found a parking out and pulled in.

"Wow," I thought about the last few seconds. 

This turned out to be just the beginning.

Why White Sands?

I climbed up the sand as if it was Mount Reiner. The legs were a little slow to follow along, but eventually they kept up with my curiosity. 

Atop the small hill was a look at another world, a vast open range full of sand and a breathtaking view of the Organ Mountains in the background.

This traveler was far from the only one to have stepped foot inside White Sands National Monument.
Highway Hasman photo

Looking around at all this sand I wondered, how did this come to be?

When the Permian Sea retreated millions of years ago, it left behind deep layers of gypsum. Mountains rose and carried the gypsum high. Water from the melting glaciers dissolved the mineral and returned it to the basin.

For thousands of years in shallow lakes like Lake Lucero (a playa in the park), wind and sun separated the water from the gypsum and formed selenite crystals. Wind and water break down the crystals making them smaller and smaller until they became sand. Strong and consistent southwest winds keep gypsum sand moving, piling it up and pushing dunes into different shapes and sizes, according to the National Park Service.

I explored these seductive specks of sand until 9 a.m. when I left to do some more exploring in southern New Mexico.

'Cosmic Hallelujah'

At 4 p.m. I returned and continued to take photos of the dunes where I came across different messages on the sand written by fellow explorers. 

While standing and admiring the sun setting behind the Organ Mountains I looked down and saw one that read, "Cosmic Hallelujah."

A divine greeting awaited me.
Highway Hasman photo

The sand was starting to glow in all its glory. I felt like I was on another planet. Goosebumps spread through my body like wildfire. 

Why did I deserve to see and experience this?

Apparently, it was God's doing. He wanted me to catch a glimpse of His majestic work.

I just wanted to stay there forever and continue to soak in the cosmic spirits. But it was time to go.

It has been a few days since that magical experience. The body remains a little sore from the hiking, but the soul feels refreshed and stronger than before.