Of all the state park campgrounds in New Mexico, this one is my favorite. It’s been two years since I was here and things have not changed one iota. And I am totally fine with that. It’s exactly what I expected, and all I needed.
Sunrise, Sunset
From site 1, I could see the early rays of the morning sun light up the mountains of Dog Canyon. Literally, I could lie in bed, open the window shade, and see this. Perfect start to the day. Fourteen days of this was bliss.
I got in the habit of taking a walk late in the afternoon, on days when the dust and wind weren’t blinding me or blowing me off my feet, respectively. That golden hour as the fading rays of the sun slid across the rugged face of the Sacramento Mountains could be glorious when the weather was right. About half the time, I got lucky, and the other half, I’d debate whether or not to walk, depending on how hardy I felt that day.
Dusty Days
Having a fifty-mile view west to the Organ Mountains meant seeing dust storms well before they showed up at camp. One woman in Alamogordo told me “we don’t visit White Sands, it visits us” and here’s why she said that. Here’s one time of several when I could stand outside my trailer and see the white desert sand blowing east towards town.
I got used to having Wind Warning days, when all my weather apps pinged with alerts of high winds, low visibility, and terrible air quality. They weren’t kidding either. Both the shot above and the one below were taking within a dozen steps of each other at my campsite, looking northwest. Those clouds in the image below aren’t rain, they’re dust clouds, scudding low across the ground and up into the sky, turning what had been a sunny day a few hours earlier into something ominous. Made me wonder how those dust bowl farmers felt, seeing something like this come up on them just before harvest time.
Mediation and Moments
After a turbulent week at Caballo Lake, what with the frigid cold, a broken water pump, a windshield chip to fix, and a rodent-bitten wiper line, I was ready for some quiet time. Oliver Lee definitely delivered. I walked the trails around the campground and this spot became my favorite. It’s such a small walking meditation, but I did it anyways and it still worked, calming me down as I carefully moved down the path and back out again.
This was the place where all my wintering work came together. The cold and wind meant little chance of meeting other campers and lots of opportunity to hide out inside my trailer and read, think, and write. As a retreat, in the sense of monks and desert hermits, it worked out quite well for me. No distractions unless I chose them, since town was 10 miles away.
I got into the rhythm of a morning practice: making breakfast, writing morning pages by hand in my journal, then choosing a topic to think on for the day. After washing up the dishes and me, I would step out for a walk around the campground, thinking of that topic as I walked, borrowing from what I remembered of a book I had read years ago, Walking Meditation (Thich Nhat Hanh and Nguyen Anh-Huong). As the days passed, I felt myself steadily unfolding from the cramped and anxious internal pose I hadn’t even realized I’d been in for so long.
When I was making reservations in November, I’d felt so strongly that Oliver Lee was the place I needed to be for a while. November is pretty late to make winter reservations in New Mexico, but serendipity stepped in. The afternoon I checked Oliver Lee for availability, someone had just canceled out of 14 nights at Site 1. I didn’t even think twice, I just hit the button to reserve it. Turns out the timing was perfect: I was ready for change by February and Oliver Lee was ready for me.
The unexpected gift of my time there was this tree, which I could see out my front window. Every day it reminded me to look up, to look out, to see the change in the world. Some days, the sky was luminous blue, other times, rainclouds or dust filled the air. The tree, though, was always there, standing its ground, making whatever surrounded it more beautiful. I grew to love that tree. It became my evening ritual, to stand outside and watch the sunset show. Whatever the day brought, whether it was enlightenment or grief, that tree was my touchstone.
After 14 days, I packed up, ready to resume my vagabond life. I left Oliver Lee changed for the better, changed for good.
Bonus Content
Wait, we’re not quite done yet… Here’s a tiny video of the view at Oliver Lee.
And who the heck *is* Oliver Lee? He was a rancher, gunfighter, U.S. Deputy Marshall, state politician, and bank director. Over the course of 43 years, he owned four ranches near Alamogordo, including Dog Canyon Ranch (where the state park is now) from 1893 to 1907. Remnants of the ranch can still be found at Oliver Lee Memorial State Park.
For more about the man, here’s a good link: Legends of American, Oliver Lee
So let me say before we part
You’ll be with me like a handprint on my heart
Stephen Lawrence Schwartz
(For Good, from the musical Wicked)
It was informative to hear about your routine for the days you spent at Oliver Lee. So much more pleasant than me, racing around to cram in my bike ride, a shower, minding my cat with a broken leg, promoting my book, and almost never finding time to write. Need to make some changes.
It’s taken me a long time (almost six years) to figure out a morning practice that (mostly) works. One thing I keep in mind is to slow down, not scurry around, and that has helped a lot. Still not writing fiction/creative non-fiction as much as I’d like, so I need to work on that.
Oliver Lee is a fave. The first time we saw the clouds moving towards us across the open plain we thought it was rain, then we realized a fine covering of rose coloured dust was appearing on everything. It soon engulfed us, then left as quickly as it arrived. Awesomely fascinating.
It is fun to watch! After a winter of wind, I feel like everything inside my Alto is covered in a fine coat of dust 🙂
Oh my I need to go there. I bet there are amazing stars at night.
Thanks for this lovely reminder of a spot that we enjoyed as well. Hopefully we can get there next winter.