The day was beautiful, and we headed east over the Organ Mountains.
Heading over the mountains brought us into the Tularosa Basin, an ancient lake bed which is the location of the world's largest gypsum desert, White Sands National Monument. You may also recognize the name as associated with the missle test range, but we didn't go there, just to the National Park area. The visitor center was only a teaser for what was in store. We passed on the opportunity to get saucers for sledding on the dunes, and opted to drive the scenic loop tour. We started out in fairly vegetated desert, but the further we went, the more vast the whiteness became. We were soon surrounded by dunes. Kids were indeed sledding (saucering?) the dunes. It was surreal to be enveloped by the whiteness and not have it be snow! It looked like snow, and the "feel" and soundlessness of driving on the sand-packed road was eerily similar, albeit 90+ degrees and without the slipperiness.
We were chagrined to learn that there would be a Full Moon Walking Tour that night. We'd be unable to attend because we had an early morning breakfast date miles away. After a brief but fascinating tour, we decided the White Sands deserved a future visit to explore more and perhaps the opportunity for a Full Moon Tour.
We pointed the car eastward again and headed for Alamogordo. We'd seen the curious phenomenon of the desert rainstorms, where you can watch the rain and lightning descending from a cloud not too far away while all around is sunshine and beautiful weather. As we headed into the mountains we were destined to experience one of these storms. It was fairly brief, but very intense, including a torrential downpour, lightning and thunder, and pea-size hail.
Once the rain subsided, we were treated to a pleasant drive into the mountains. After Alamogordo we headed south to Carlsbad and put up for a very brief night. We hit the sack early and got up at 3 a.m. for our breakfast rendezvous with the bats of Carlsbad Caverns. Yes, I said BATS! Thousands and thousands of them. I personally think bats are way cool and fascinating, though I realize not everyone shares this opinion.
At any rate, the event we were to attend was the 51st Annual Breakfast With the Bats. No, we didn't really eat with them. We went to Carlsbad Caverns, about 30 miles out of the town of Carlsbad, where we and a large number of fellow bat fanciers were treated to a humongous burrito breakfast feast by the park ranger staff at 4 a.m.
I was thinking about getting a second cup of coffee when a ranger came through the dining area announcing that the bats were arriving. We hastily scuttled the breakfast remains and filed quietly down the pathway to the Bat Amphitheater where we were seated on stone/concrete benches in the pre-dawn.
By way of explanation, the bats (Mexican Free-Tails) live in the cave, or at least one chamber of it, during the day and spend the summer nights foraging for insects, making baby bats, and doing whatever else it is that bats do. Winters find them migrating further south where they can find food; they don't hibernate, unlike some bat species. Now this is probably more than you care to know, so I'll cut it short. The public are allowed to view the bats from the amphitheater each evening as they leave the cave. But once a year, the park allows viewing of the bats as they return from the night's hunt and descend into the cave opening.
We were cautioned to be as quiet as possible and forbidden to use any electronic devices (cameras, phones, video cams, etc.) out of consieration for the bats and our fellow bat-viewers.
The dawn was perhaps a faint promise in the east when we became aware of the bats. One by one at first, and then in increasing numbers they flew over our heads and down into the mouth of the cave. As the sky lightened we could see their silhouettes as they flew. At my age, their echo-location sounds are inaudible, but the velvety rustle of their wings was fascinating. These bats are not of the tiny 6-inch varieties that populate my eastern habitat. No, their wingspan approaches 12 inches. A few low-flyers moved the air enough to be felt, but I must add that (for you bat-fearers out there) NOT A SINGLE BAT landed in anyone's hair or proved otherwise hostile!
As the dawn became more evident, we saw other sillhouettes in the sky, but these were leaving the cave. It seems that swallows have taken up residence in the rocky hollows near the mouth of the cave, and a strange sort of "shift change" manuever ensued as bats flew in and birds flew out, again I might add, without collisions.
We were among the first 150 people to arrive at the bat event, and were thus offered the opportunity for a free lantern tour of the cave. Our group headed in at 6:30; by this time all the bats were in and the sun was up. We descended into the mouth of the cave and down, down, down into the darkness, illuminated by the faint glow of a dozen lanterns spaced among about 75 of us.
I had a photo here, but it has disappeared and won't reload, so I suppose I shall have to continue in another post. Just as well; it's getting late. Another time. . .
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