Bad Luck @ White Sands
NEW MEXICO
If you’ve ever googled White Sands, you know what a picture perfect paradise it looks like. Soft rippled sand devoid of any color as far as the eye can see, conversely mirrored by the bold pinks and blues of a setting southwest sun. It really is something out of a fairytale. In fact, just the promise of seeing this otherworldly place was enough to drag me all the way out to New Mexico, a state I knew nothing about and had very little interest in discovering.
If you follow the blog, you know I was on the fence about making the trek out to New Mexico at all after getting a late start, but the crystal clear oasis of White Sands National Park beckoned me and so, at the 11th hour, we struck out east. Surprisingly, it was a dream drive. Little traffic, somewhat acceptable roads, and the least amount of wind interference we’d had the entire trip. In fact, coming down the mountain over the valley, seeing White Sands Missile Range out in the distance, I began to cry. Not because it was so pretty, but because White Sands had been a far off dream for quite sometime and we actually made it. It seemed like we’d never get there and there we were. Knowing what I know now, I definitely should’ve been crying (see RV Life 90 day) but at that time, it was really a magical moment that spoke volumes to how far we’d come to get there. It would prove to be the first and last place we really made it to.
From the moment we hit the hilltop, things seemed to go to shit almost immediately. Only seconds after crying tears of joy, I hit a bird, my first experience running an animal over, and while it may seem inconsequential, I did not take it well. As I drove down the highway, tears pouring down my cheeks, now because I was a fucking bird killer, I talked myself off the ledge, cognizant that in just a few miles there would be an unmarked turnoff that I absolutely could not miss because I would not be able to make the turn in a 50 foot rig.
I missed the turn.
Driving down the highway, in the middle of nowhere, I still missed the fucking entrance to this camp spot at Lake Holloman, a water runoff pond outside Holloman Air Force Base frequently used for dispersed camping. I’d been researching the spot for weeks and it was going to be our first real off road adventure, relying solely on the systems my dad and I installed, a real test to the rigs boon docking capabilities. I flipped a bitch across four lanes of highway and back tracked. I’d read that because of the position of the poles and the angle of the road that most people aren’t able to straighten out from the west facing direction. I pulled far left into a dead end turn lane before illegally making the right turn across westbound traffic and pulled in. Having only been towing a very limited amount of time, I knew I was well outside my depths, but I was committed (commitment ha never been my problem). Slow and steady I eased the truck in as far left as it would go, even dropping the front left tire off the road to position the trailer through. A few minutes later, we were through the minuscule gate with just inches to spare. It was quite an achievement for me but the joy did not last long. Once we were up the gravel road, I realized it was less dispersed camping and more an abandoned trash dump full of ruts and dips. I committed to staying at least one night because I couldn’t brave the gate again that day, picked a water front spot, and eventually made a 15 point turn once I’d factored in variable wind speed and direction.
Thoroughly emotionally drained, I exited the truck and grabbed my chocks to set up camp when I made eye contact with a large round object in my tire. It was a lag, a big fucking one, and it was lodged right in the middle of my trailer tire. I can’t say how long we drove like this, but I suspect I picked it up between the gate and our campsite. I felt like I should have been happy I spotted it right away because any other location and I may have missed it. Instead I felt deflated. I set up camp and cracked a cold one just as the intense wind storm picked up and resigned myself to an afternoon of TV and qualudes.
I awoke the next morning reinvigorated, ready to tackle my problems, that is until I stepped out into the beautiful New Mexico morning and made eye contact with that lag. It looked even bigger than before and definitely more menacing. It was a fucking beast, and I just couldn’t bring myself to change it. I didn’t want to. So I threw my shit in the truck, grabbed Cutie, and off to White Sands we went. I drove the main loop, stopping off at Nature Trail first to let Cutie get her first taste of the day’s activities. Although the sand was wildly cool to the touch, the crispness of the air was wearing off and the reflection of the sun was more intense than I expected. It was only 72° and she was already winded, panting like a cow. It was clear that this drive was just going to be a scouting expedition as we began down the road to the larger dunes, already covered in families with red and blue saucers. The sun was high in the sky and picture taking was out of the question so I decided to finish exploring and plan our assault from home base.
When people talk about White Sands National Park, they talk about it much like many of the other great wonders, such as Yellowstone or Death Valley. What I hadn’t read anywhere was how incredibly small it actually was. Don’t get me wrong, it is incredible, but White Sands is not a park you explore (although I’m sure many would disagree). There are five trails, most very short and even ADA friendly, making it more of a visit-photograph-leave destination. One day at White Sands is more than sufficient to take pictures, do a hike or two, and sled down the dunes. What I didn’t know at the time was that more than half of White Sands is actually off limits as part of a cooperative use zone with Holloman Air Force Base. So armed with a new plan of action, we retreated back to our lakeside hovel and awaited sunset.
If you know me or have been reading my blog for awhile, you know I’m a pretty unlucky person. If things can go wrong, they do go wrong and I’d hoped that by removing myself from the twists and turns of my daily life in Las Vegas, I might somehow radically tip whatever karmic retribution I’d previously set in motion. Well, turns out, I didn’t. I just bring the back luck with me wherever I go so on that very first day while I was scouting out locations and potential photo ops, I didn’t know that in a few short hours, a pilot would crash his F-16 right in the middle of the park. But not to worry, said pilot was fine. My trip, however, not so lucky. The government swooped in and immediately shut down Dune Drive, the only road in and out of the park, with absolutely no information, simply a sign in the middle of the road.
At first, I was pretty cool about it, assuming it would all work out and the park would reopen. Days later, my resolve began to dissipate. The temperatures at Lake Holloman began to rise and I’d still not tackled the great big hole in my tire yet, but I wouldn’t give up my dream of having a mommy/doggy photoshoot with matching goggles. Several times we went over at sunset, parking off the road by the sign and tip toeing out where the dunes met the brush, but it wasn’t the setting that I’d envisioned. I managed to hold onto that dream for 10 days before we finally gave up. Cest la vie, maybe next time I told Cutie, her pink ombre goggles still wrapped in protective film. Probably a good thing we didn’t wait it out longer as the crash happened April 30, 2024 and today, July 6th, part of the road is still under closure, just for reference.
Eventually I faced the music and changed our tire. Well, no not me, but a very nice gentleman after a smile and wink in the Walmart parking lot. We also made it back out of the treacherous gate, the exit being even more stressful than the entry. And so we left Alamogordo, heading back west on what we thought would be the rest of our great American roadtrip, putting the disaster that was White Sands behind us. And although the path in front of us ended up being much more precarious and disappointing, I chalked White Sands up to just a bump in the road and vowed to be back because New Mexico still owes us a photoshoot.