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| Roadrunner! If he catches you, he'll eat your shoes... |
However, driving through Las Cruces, we first stopped to see the giant roadrunner made of trash. Yes, you read that right. It was constructed of trash from the landfill (mostly shoes, from what we could see). Yesterday, when we'd mentioned we were going through Las Cruces, we were told about the roadrunner at the rest stop there, which, of course, meant we had to stop and see it. :-) He's quite a large roadrunner. Sadly, I don't think I've seen any real roadrunners yet.
Also saw another interesting road-side sign, except of a more official variety than most. We passed by a correctional facility (aka a prison), and a few miles down the road, there's a sign warning us "Do NOT Pick Up Hitch-hikers in This Area!" Ha ha ha! Noted.
There are some lovely mountains just beyond Las Cruces, and there's farmland in the valleys. Not quite what we expected of New Mexico. The temperature this morning was 28C, which seems much more manageable than Tucson's weather.
Just before reaching White Sands, we noticed some kind of traffic diversion ahead. All traffic on our side of the highway was directed off to a temporary border station. Not your usual border guards, but soldiers from the nearby missile base, wearing their camouflage uniforms and everything. So, naturally, they were much friendlier than the real border guards.
They asked if we were American citizens. Stephen said, "Si, senor," and they started to drag him away. Fortunately, I had our passports on hand for the army dude. "Canadians?" Looks at our passport pics, and snorts because passport pictures are always so awful. "You look like dorks. What are you doing here?"
"We're going to White Sands, and Carlsbad Caverns, and Stephen wants to buy Tequila in Santa Fe."
"Okay. No one's in the back of your car?" Nope. No room for anyone in there, what with all the chips and pop and souvenir magnets that we're carting along with us. (In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if our vehicle gives off weird magnetic readings...)
We're free to go. Yay!
White Sands is just past the illegal immigrant checkpoint. And, in case you didn't know, White Sands is a combination National Monument *and* a missile range. Several times a week, the highway we were driving on and the park are shut down while fighter jets test missiles. Fortunately, today was not a bombing day. Which means they're not allowed to launch things at hapless hikers and tourists (no matter how much they might want to).
The white sands are actually gypsum, carried down from the mountains in streams, but as this area is a low-lying basin surrounded by mountains, there's nowhere for it to go, and the water eventually evaporates, leaving behind the gypsum. Fast forward who knows how many million years (some park ranger probably knows, but I don't), and you have vast dunes of gypsum. Vast, as in it covers 275 miles!!! It's something to see, and you definitely want your sunglasses. It is blindingly white. Every time I tried to peek with my sunglasses off, I burned my retinas. Now I see white sands everywhere...
The roads seem to be just plowed out of the sand and sprayed down with water. Looks like snow and ice, but it's all gypsum sand.
Stephen and I did the 4.8 mile Alkali Flats hike. You have to sign in and sign out, and it's recommended that you take a GPS with you. Yay, I get to use my hiking GPS!
It's not long into the hike before you realize why they recommend the GPS. You'll be fine if you stick to the trail markers (which are orange-tipped posts stuck into the sad, so they do stick out from a distance), but if you wander off, it's just sloping white sand dunes everywhere. In between the dunes, there are little flat areas where plants are growing. Occasionally, you even see the top of a tree poking through the sides of a dune. The dunes are constantly moving with the wind and will sweep over everything in their path.
Hiking through sand dunes is harder than you might expect. Some parts of the dunes are relatively hard-packed by the wind, which is easier, but a lot of it is like squishy soft sand, and it's hard work slogging through it.
We eventually reach the Alkali Flats, and we can see some military base stuff way off in the distance. I wonder if the army will have cookies and orange juice waiting for us? Stephen thinks not - but he figures if we keep going, we may get a free trip to Guantanamo.
Eh, maybe not this time - it's not on my list of things to see. This is the end of the shared use area - the trail loops back the way we came, and we decide it's a good idea to head back.
FYI, the trail guide says the hike should take three hours, but Stephen and I do it in two. Whoo! Our streak of speed hiking remains intact. :-)
*****
After White Sands, we're heading towards Carlsbad.
But Stephen is ruining all my fun - he's afraid of El Paso (and Mexican drug lords who might shoot at his car as we drive by), so instead we're driving through Alamogordo. Who ever heard of Alamogordo before? It's a silly name. And I'm pretty sure I can't see Mexico from Alamogordo. >:-(
Instead, we take a road towards Artesia. It starts out promisingly enough, going through a high point at the appropriately named Cloudcroft - all pine trees and high elevation and blue skies and happy clouds. It appears to be a resort community, and for a while, you have the fancy cabins and houses in the woods, then a few picturesque little farms.
Then, all of a sudden, nothing. N-O-T-H-I-N-G. Miles and miles of it. The happy trees and streams are gone, and there's no towns, so there's also no stupid roadside signs, which at least alleviate the boredom. Road to Artesia, you stink. And I'm telling all my friends about you. >:-( I'm sure the road to El Paso would have been much more interesting, if only someone in this car didn't have Mexiphobia...
We hope that things will improve, but alas, no such luck. In fact, we pass through a tumbledown little town called Hope. I'm pretty sure that I caught a glimpse of their 'welcome' sign, and it said "Abandon all Hope, all ye who enter here..."
Oh, look, Artesia is an oil town. There are statues of guys building derricks. There's a place called the Wellhead. I am grouchy and of the opinion that there is more oil in Stephen's car. Although the giant refinery in the middle of town might prove me wrong. Still, aside from an excess of statuary, I don't see much to recommend Artesia.
You know those movies where the kid grows up in the small town and he can't wait to do something, to get out of this small town? Wow, I totally get it now.
We finally, finally arrive at Carlsbad, which our Rough Guide says is "astonishing in its blandness." I'll say. What the heck, Carlsbad? Why are you so boring? You've got a National Park that brings in 1 million visitors a year - if you tried to be a little bit interesting, you might actually get people to stay more than a day or two. But the main street through Carlsbad is little more than a string of average motels, gas stations, utilitarian local businesses, and boarded up buildings (maybe the recession hit them hard?).
Hey, did anyone notice that it's the Labour Day Weekend? Great. Now we're competing with a multitude of families out for one last vacation. We find a room at The Stagecoach Inn, which is one of those family-owned motels. Although the decor is somewhat dated, the rooms are cheap enough and clean, and so we're set.
Next door is the "No-Whiner Diner" (where apparently you're not allowed to complain). We're going to wander over there to eat.
Place to stay, place to eat, and Internet, too. Things are looking up.
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