dokodemo

White Sands National Monument is about what it sounds like, a huge area of lightly colored, powdery sand. Its also a huge missile testing facility, and home of some of the earliest nuclear tests, but thats another story. I was interested in the backpacking oppurtunities there.

I arrived around 2pm, just as the sun was really revealing its full power. A backcountry permit is required to park and walk out, but that was simple enough to arrange. I had to knowingly violate one of the park rules -- "don't hike alone" -- but as I listed "1" in my party, the ranger seemed to be fine with it. Quickly rummaging through the camping box in back, the needed items were selected. Since it was only 1 night, it should have been simple, but I needed to find the clothing which would prove most versatile and with the least weight. 30 minutes later, I slammed a half gallon of water, and headed out.

The dunes were just surreal. It took about 2 minutes from the "Trailhead" to feel like I was totally alone on an alien planet. The silence was amazing... no wind, no birds, no insects, no traffic. The loudest sounds were my footprints and rustling fabrics.

My selected camp was the farthest one out, the cusp of a large loop. However, it was still under 2 miles, and did not take long to find. There is no real "trail" out there; instead, one just follows some wooden poles not unlike small telephone poles, about 5 feet high. Its usually a bit of a challenge to find the next pole while standing next to one, but never hard enough to get lost. Since it was so hot, I pitched the awning fairly high... allowing plenty of ventilation but still protecting from the sun. I took a break under it, gathered items for dinner, and then walked up to the top of the highest dune for a dinner break and to watch the sunset.

Its difficult to explain the colors in the sky and on the cliff walls out there. Suffice it to say that it was quite marvelous. It also came to pass that it became quite nippy the moment the sun completed sinking behind the mountains, leaving only a purple haze in its place. Some speed was required in quickly returning to the camp and fetching almost all of the clothing.

The night's uniform consisted of:

• Silnylon/polyfill bomber cap
  
• merino wool tshirt
  
• merino wool long sleeve shirt
  
• down vest
  
• softshell jacket
  
• merino wool long underwear
  
• cotton blend climbing pants
  
• alpaca wool socks
  

This would be enough insulation to kill me in moderate weather. I can almost never stand long underwear unless a serious wind is howling and its about 15 degrees out. That being said, I was still a little cold, and was considering adding a goretex shell, though never did. I was continually cursing myself for not bringing gloves, while rejoicing in the fact that I had the down vest. Its "furnace" pockets are worth the price of admission, I can almost reach in up to my elbows.

One strange side-effect of these synthetic materials (the down vest shell, the bomber cap) is the ungodly NOISE they create. At one point, while I was standing on the ridge of a dune, staring up at the milky way, a breeze flared up and crinkled the material. I didn't quite fall over out of surprise, but I was so convinced that I heard the patter of footsteps running up to me that I believe I exclaimed audibly. I do remember wondering how good of a weapon a Platypus bladder of water would be. How terrible that in as a remote of a place as I can find in New Mexico, I hear a little rustle and think I am about to be mugged.

Coming back to camp, I lowered the pitch of the tarp to block more wind. This was a good idea. Nay, this was mandatory.

The night was frigid. Wearing all of the above (minus the softshell jacket) and under my down bag, strapped in tightly, I was still a little chilled. It took a few hours to realize that a sort of vestibule made of the softshell allowed for breathing but eliminated some of the chill. I became aware of ice forming on the tarp in the middle of the night, as I brushed it. Tarp shouldn't be brittle. Hunkered down, I did sleep well, and the night was mostly calm. I thought I heard some coyotes yap a few times, though very far away. It was surreal to hear the booming and ground shaking from bomb tests, late at night and in the morning.

The sunrise was of course just as nice as the sunset. It pulled me out of bed quickly, since I wanted to get out of the shadow and up on the dunes into the sun. A breakfast of miso ramen was prepared, and I slowly broke down the camp. All of the ice on the tarp and my backpack took some time to thaw. While some items were drying, I packed others. It seemed to take a long time, but I got out by 8am. On the way out, I noticed some other lazy slugabeds just getting up.

Arriving pack at the trailhead, an unfriendly retired man told me that he needed a hip replacement and couldn't leave the parking lot. He warned me against going anywhere else in New Mexico, claiming it would be 15 degrees, and even with gloves on, I wouldn't be able to feel my hands.

Well, ignoring his wisdom, I pushed on. Stopping at the White Sands Missile Range was pretty intense. I had to have a mild background check performed to enter, and after taking a few photos of old missiles and other aernospace gems, I departed.