Travel Tales: A Day in the Desert

The final words from my last blog were written from a trans-Atlantic westbound aircraft while flying back from a Swedish trip in mid-December. Heading there, the journey was filled with hope and promise. Years of genuinely connected interaction turned out to be more than words. The journey was life-changing, but life lessons *also* happened in this magical Nordic place. Human existence is often complicated with layers far beyond the visceral, first-person experience. What kind of adult would I be now if I grew up near Chernobyl, Fukushima, or rural Cuba, instead of Williamsburg? Those thoughts drifted through my head during the remaining days of 2022.  I entered 2023 at a crossroads.

Castaway

Speaking of Crossroads, one of my favorite movies is “Castaway,” starring Tom Hanks. We pick up the story as Hanks stands in the middle of a remote West Texas intersection, trying to determine what’s next after years of trying to stay alive. At the movie’s end, he returns a package that kept his fragile mental state in place while trying to get off a remote Pacific Island. Returning home, Hanks learned he’d lost the love of his life and then randomly met the woman who sent that package via FedEx many years ago. We never learn what happened, but it was a non-traditional but perfect way to end a story. I’m diving deeper into being at my own crossroads on this trip.

The final scene from that film keeps replaying in my head while sitting on Southwest Flight 2753 as I travel west to White Sands National Park, hoping to capture the perfect sunset while searching for a mirror in the powdery gypsum sand.

Stories

If you know anything about me, there’s always a story to tell. Most times you’ll be laughing at me, and not with me after hearing one of my tales. While exiting the aircraft in El Paso, I could not help but laugh to myself. The last time I tried visiting White Sands, the experience was cut short. Two years ago, I picked up my rental car, stopped at a local convenience store, and purchased much-needed supplies. You know, the disposable cooler, several bottles of water, ice, sandwiches, as I was going to a Desert. Only after 80 minutes of driving, a lengthy Homeland Security checkpoint, and a slow-moving line to get into the park I learned, “I left the supplies on the counter at the store” when I looked at the back seat. Who goes to the desert without water? Williamsburg’s finest, that’s who! I was so thirsty that I had to leave before sunset. Add this to the list of things Wilbert Jones would never do. Please remind me to tell you about being in a rental car on a remote Utah goat trail at 11,000 feet, with no room to turn around. Seriously. One story a little later during this tale might make you laugh out loud.

Arrival

El Paso, Texas, is a military town (Fort Bliss) and an international border city (Ciudad Juárez, MX). My arrival and subsequent deplaning at the international airport were uneventful and without incident. Following the signs, I made my way to the Avis rental car lot. Lots of families are around, waiting for loved ones to arrive. Looking down at my phone, I was notified that my RED Dodge Charger was ready. If you know anything about me, you already know I’m into European vehicles and not impressed by what the “Big Three” has on the showroom floor. Perhaps, I never got over the fact that someone in Detroit thought creating a minivan was a good idea—Americans, why the world hates us, reason #49.

The Saturday morning drive only involved one stop: in nearby Las Cruces. I’d pick up a cooler, ice, bottled water, and snacks at Albertsons. Whenever I roam these aisles, I’m taken back to my days of living in Central Florida. That was another life in a place far away and long ago. I loaded up the car and was an hour away from White Sands, this time looking back from time to time to ensure the cooler was indeed there. Saturday’s NPR lineup would be my co-pilot as I drove through rural New Mexico. The San Andreas Mountains slowly became more prominent as I drove northwest. While passing the town of Organ, I noticed a space museum/mural honoring the Astronauts from the Space Shuttle Challenger on my right. I briefly muted my radio to honor the ill-fated mission.

White Sands

Entering White Sands reminded me of the movie “National Lampoon, Vacation.” Listening to one child (in the gift shop) trying to convince his mom that this was a beach and the ocean was nearby brought back memories from my youth. Children have their logic, and that was that.

The 16-mile roundtrip drive through the park was mesmerizing. The pure white dunes stretched nearly to infinity. Every year, you hear the stories of people who get lost here, and occasionally, some end tragically. After 45 minutes of driving, I found my spot and parked. The actual photography would begin 7 hours into the future. You can find a decent photo at 1 pm, but the cool shadows won’t happen until about an hour before sunset. Around me, families used rented disc-shaped saucers to slide down the dunes. Others created covered base stations, complete with portable (and not so portable grills). The air was filled with the smell of burgers, fajitas, and ribs. As for me, a bit of NPR “Weekend Edition” in the car and perhaps a brief nap.

Garment Malfunction

One thing about White Sands is the surprise experienced when you step foot on the dunes. You will understand what I mean if you have (or have been to) a pool. This is not ordinary sand. On a hot summer day, when you step out of the pool and notice the cool surface, the substance that keeps your feet from catching fire (slightly exaggerated) is gypsum. The entire desert here is a gypsum deposit, one of the largest on Earth.

Earlier, I mentioned jokes. All I could do was laugh at this. Around 1 pm, I left the car to begin surveying, where I would later set up to take photos. I wandered for miles, looking for the sweeping curves that define the best images near sunset. The sound of a rattlesnake in the nearby brush altered my path. While trying to avoid him (and his cousins), I slipped, fell, and heard this ripping sound as I jumped over some brush. Looking down, I felt a warm breeze hitting my left thigh as my jeans were torn just above my left knee, all the way to my crotch! I’m like, “Seriously, Glenn, what the ____?” Thinking back to my dad. “What would Wilbert Jones do?” He would be at the nearby Marriott and not stupid enough to be in the desert on purpose! As for me, it’s “not what happens to you, but what you do next is what defines you” time. I remembered passing a JC Penny in Las Cruces 50-60 miles down the road. And I was off.

The Return

Wearing a fresh pair of Levi 505 jeans, I returned to the bright glow of White Sands 2 hours later. By now, it was past 4:30, and the sun was beginning to create shadows on the dunes. I sat in the “muscle car” listening to afternoon NPR programming. Since I knew where I was going and there was no need to wander around the desert “just because.” Who wanted “Ripped Jeans, the Sequel?” At roughly 6:15, I’d begin my 25-minute hike north, where the White Sands awaited me.

While exiting the car, a few photographers pulled up and unloaded their gear. Many were doing graduation, wedding, and new baby photography. We all wanted to find the right spot with plenty of distance from each other.

Sunset

Finding a bush atop a dune in the vast desert was my final destination as the sun and darkness fought their daily battle. Each element would win, depending on the time of day. I stood in solitude, reflecting on my travels. I laughed and was nearly moved to tears moments apart. I fought the “what if” battle numerous times. With my mind finally telling my subconscious to basically “shut up.” Sunsets are reminders that all things end. But with time, new beginnings are never far away, as life is an exercise in patience.

Back to Houston

Leaving White Sands, I tried to soak in as much of this experience as possible, knowing I’d likely never return to this place. Driving back to El Paso was uneventful, and I smiled as I passed the Las Cruces J.C. Penny, the savior from my “jeans” malfunction.

El Paso has some of the closest hotels to the airport of any city I’ve ever traveled to. But many here are in deplorable conditions, including mine. I have many theories but will refrain, as speculation has the same value as gossip. Area hotel conditions were a discussion point at a nearby restaurant while having dinner (please don’t ask where). Then I was quickly off to bed after returning to the hotel. 5 am came quickly. What a silly thought to fly so early. Whose stupid idea was that? The flight back to Houston was, like so many others, uneventful. Apart from the Sam Houston State women’s softball team on this trip taking 4-thousand selfies, it would have been entirely forgettable.

Life Lessons

In life, there are physical deserts, and there are spiritual deserts. Beautiful things grow in both. For some, the desert is a vast and lonely place. For others, it offers peace, serenity, and spiritual awakening.

The desert’s vastness makes you aware of your place in the universe. The desert reveals the vastness of the bald earth. Ancient mountains, badlands, sand dunes, canyons, washes, and ruins remind you that nature is in charge – not us.

It is surprising to realize that water defines the desert – moving water. Water created the canyons, arroyos, and washes and continues evolving transmutations. It does rain in White Sands National Park, and the landscape dramatically changes afterward. When you walk in the desert – know that water was there first. Water shapes the desert in the same way experience shapes our lives.

The desert allows you to see further and more clearly – the colors are more intense. It provides miles and miles of uninterrupted views. White Sands offers a chance to see the dramatic sunrise, sunset, the moon, and the stars against the unbelievably night skies, as if for the first time.

The starkness has my eyes wide open. There is beauty in these vistas’ timeless open spaces and simplicity. The expansive desert is framed by barren, ancient cliffs and miles of emptiness. Simplicity provides both peace and beauty. The desert helps you appreciate the beauty of simplicity.

The desert is so silent that you can hear your own thoughts. I remind myself to let them float away as I absorb the peacefulness around me. Serenity is ever present here. Such peace, such quiet, invites contemplation.

If you travel long enough in the desert – you will likely come across footprints. Seeing footprints in the gypsum sand triggered thoughts about the people who made them and why they chose to explore this amazing creation.

I have never seen such light as it dances across White Sands. The quality of sunlight seems much more radiant than the light at sea level. It invites a spiritual awakening.

Omens are constant in the desert. Fear of the unknown abounds. The danger lies in rattlesnakes, coyotes, and becoming lost in the vastness.  I’ve often been terrified in remote environments (remind me to tell the tale about being on a river infested with crocodiles in Belize). Still, I’ve never let it keep me from doing anything I wanted to do. Don’t allow fear to hold you back, either.

At the end of this journey, I let go of something I’d forever sought and was astonished to find. Sometimes we chase a dream only to learn it is merely a mirage. And in some cases, that has to be okay. As my recently departed friend A.J. Binga often said, “Every morning you’re able to lace up your bootstraps is the beginning of another chance.”

Life Lessons from this “Accidental Tourist.”