Dunes at White Sands
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White Sands National Park is home to the world’s largest gypsum dune field, a sea of white sand stretching across more than 275 square miles. This isn’t beach sand. Millions of years ago, rain and snowmelt carried gypsum from the surrounding mountains into ancient Lake Lucero. Over time, the water disappeared, the gypsum crystallized, and what was left behind became the soft, powdery sand that now makes up the dunes.
Alkali Flat Trailhead Sign
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That morning, missile testing at White Sands Missile Range had temporarily closed the Alkali Flat Trail. We got on the trail shortly after it reopened for a five-mile trek through what felt like another planet. There’s no real path out there thanks to constantly shifting dunes, so a series of orange posts marks the way. Miss one, and you’re just wandering into a white infinity. At one point, I dropped my pack and struck a dramatic pose of feigned despair. No shade. No signs of life. Just endless dunes in every direction.
Some of the dunes rise more than thirty feet high, and climbing them felt like scaling giant marshmallows. With every step, my foot sank in like the sand was actively trying to eat it, turning uphill sections into a serious workout. Coming down, though, was a total blast. The soft gypsum made the perfect landing pad, letting us run straight down steep slopes without fear of slipping or face-planting. Hard to beat a trail where you can suffer a little and feel like a kid again at the same time.
After finishing Alkali Flat, we were tired but clearly not done. Next up was the Dune Life Nature Trail, a short one-mile loop with more vegetation and several interpretive signs that pulled back the curtain on how anything survives out here. We learned about mice that don’t drink water at all, instead storing seeds that absorb moisture from the sand, and about predators like foxes, coyotes, and rattlesnakes that mostly come out after dark. The dunes may look empty, but they’re very much alive.
We also walked the Playa Trail, a half-mile path leading to a flat basin that holds water after rain. Gypsum’s fine grains slow drainage, form a thin crust that reduces evaporation, and sit above a shallow water table that keeps the sand damp underneath. Unfortunately, the playa was bone dry for us, which was a bit of a letdown. I would have loved to see water sitting out in the middle of this white desert. One unexpected perk, though, is that the sand stays cool even under the hot sun. That same moisture acts like glue, keeping the dunes from blowing away entirely.
We left the park for an early dinner in Alamogordo with plans to come back for sunset. On the drive, we passed Holloman Air Force Base, and without warning a fighter jet blasted right in front of us, just a few hundred feet off the ground, fully banked on its side as it took off. It was there, and then it was gone. Way too fast for a photo, but I did manage to yell, “Whoa, that’s so freaking cool,” before it disappeared. Easily one of the coolest things I’ve ever seen, and completely unexpected.
Back at White Sands later that afternoon, we appreciated the cooler temperatures and did what everyone is required to do when visiting this park: slide down the dunes. Our camp host at Oliver Lee Memorial State Park kindly loans out disc sleds and wax to campers, which saved us from paying about twenty dollars at the visitor center. Some runs were total duds where we barely moved, while others were fast and genuinely fun. It was a mix of trial, error, and laughing at ourselves.
We wrapped up the day with a 6:30 p.m. ranger-led sunset hike, a slow walk through the dunes paired with some genuinely fascinating insights about the park. We learned that certain insects and scorpions have evolved to turn white for camouflage in this environment. I kept my eyes peeled for one of these ghostly creatures, but the only insect I spotted was a black beetle, proudly uncamouflaged and doing his own thing.
As the sun dropped, the white dunes gradually shifted to soft blues under the fading light. After a day of hiking, climbing, sliding, learning, and a surprise flyby from a fighter jet, it felt like a pretty perfect way to end things.
Some of the dunes rise more than thirty feet high, and climbing them felt like scaling giant marshmallows. With every step, my foot sank in like the sand was actively trying to eat it, turning uphill sections into a serious workout. Coming down, though, was a total blast. The soft gypsum made the perfect landing pad, letting us run straight down steep slopes without fear of slipping or face-planting. Hard to beat a trail where you can suffer a little and feel like a kid again at the same time.
After finishing Alkali Flat, we were tired but clearly not done. Next up was the Dune Life Nature Trail, a short one-mile loop with more vegetation and several interpretive signs that pulled back the curtain on how anything survives out here. We learned about mice that don’t drink water at all, instead storing seeds that absorb moisture from the sand, and about predators like foxes, coyotes, and rattlesnakes that mostly come out after dark. The dunes may look empty, but they’re very much alive.
We also walked the Playa Trail, a half-mile path leading to a flat basin that holds water after rain. Gypsum’s fine grains slow drainage, form a thin crust that reduces evaporation, and sit above a shallow water table that keeps the sand damp underneath. Unfortunately, the playa was bone dry for us, which was a bit of a letdown. I would have loved to see water sitting out in the middle of this white desert. One unexpected perk, though, is that the sand stays cool even under the hot sun. That same moisture acts like glue, keeping the dunes from blowing away entirely.
We left the park for an early dinner in Alamogordo with plans to come back for sunset. On the drive, we passed Holloman Air Force Base, and without warning a fighter jet blasted right in front of us, just a few hundred feet off the ground, fully banked on its side as it took off. It was there, and then it was gone. Way too fast for a photo, but I did manage to yell, “Whoa, that’s so freaking cool,” before it disappeared. Easily one of the coolest things I’ve ever seen, and completely unexpected.
Back at White Sands later that afternoon, we appreciated the cooler temperatures and did what everyone is required to do when visiting this park: slide down the dunes. Our camp host at Oliver Lee Memorial State Park kindly loans out disc sleds and wax to campers, which saved us from paying about twenty dollars at the visitor center. Some runs were total duds where we barely moved, while others were fast and genuinely fun. It was a mix of trial, error, and laughing at ourselves.
We wrapped up the day with a 6:30 p.m. ranger-led sunset hike, a slow walk through the dunes paired with some genuinely fascinating insights about the park. We learned that certain insects and scorpions have evolved to turn white for camouflage in this environment. I kept my eyes peeled for one of these ghostly creatures, but the only insect I spotted was a black beetle, proudly uncamouflaged and doing his own thing.
As the sun dropped, the white dunes gradually shifted to soft blues under the fading light. After a day of hiking, climbing, sliding, learning, and a surprise flyby from a fighter jet, it felt like a pretty perfect way to end things.