Everything everywhere is bleach white. The sand. The road. The clouds. If it weren’t for the 60 degree Fahrenheit temperatures we’d think we were at a ski resort.

February 22–23, 2025

It’s a short trip, we know, to spend just one night on a weekend in a park. It leaves a lot on the line for that one night, but we believe the 8 hour drive down to White Sands National Park is worth the risk of one of the most ethereal sunsets in the park system. There’s just one condition. We need a clean sunset with no clouds on the horizon. That’s why the entire drive down to New Mexico, our eyes are watching the sky, hoping the clouds will stay at bay. We near Alamogordo, New Mexico, just outside White Sands and to our dismay a bank of clouds hangs above the park. Thankfully the clouds are thin and appear spotty, so we’re going to hope for the best.

With just one road into the park, we pull into the Visitor Center around 2:30 p.m. to stamp our passport and grab a map. This is not our first trip to the park, so we generally know what to expect as we drive to the back of the park road looking for Alkali Flat Trail, the best foray into the dunes. Along the way, we make note of the signs indicating the park closes at 6 p.m. Conveniently, sunset is predicted to occur at 5:46 p.m.

We park at the trailhead and step out onto the sand. The landscape is otherworldly. Everything everywhere is bleach white. The sand. The road. The clouds. If it weren’t for the 60 degree Fahrenheit temperatures we’d think we were at a ski resort. Mounds of sand mimic drifts of snow—everything caked with white. We take a minute to soak in the dramatic scene and venture out onto the trail.

“Trail” is a bit of an overstatement in White Sands. With ever-shifting dunes, a traditional trail is not practical to maintain, so the park plants posts in the ground every 100 yards or so to mark the way. We follow each marker carefully remembering where our car is parked. Our goal along Alkali Flat Trail is to find a secluded space with little activity away from footprints and people to shoot the sunset.

We look to the sky. Winds corral the clouds to the east and the afternoon sun starts to poke through. Bit by bit our optimism grows. After about half a mile, the sun is beating down on the dunes with clear skies in the west—a very good sign for sunset. And boy, are we glad we brought our sunglasses. The bright gypsum sand is blinding enough with clouds. We pull off the the marked trail and hike up a nearby dune, setting up a home base with our gear ready to wait for sunset.

White Sands sits facing the San Andres Mountains in the west. As sunset draws near, these mountains resemble a torn piece of paper silhouetted in the sky. The moment for which we drove 8 hours is finally here. The dunes melt into golden hour, reflecting the warm sky above. And it just keeps getting better. The sun slips behind the San Andres range and the dunefield erupts in peach-pink hues. Distant mountains behind us to the east are aflame in alpenglow. The white dunes echo in response, turning pink and purple. For about 20 minutes, the harsh bright desert of afternoon softens to a gorgeous pastel palette. We are lost in a sea of cotton candy and pillows. The only cloud in sight is cloud nine.

By now it’s after 6 p.m., so we quickly pack up our belongings and make our way back to the parking lot. Our way back gets bluer and darker as the sun sets. It’s no wonder the park closes right after sunset. The trail markers are already difficult to see in the waning light. It would be nearly impossible to find our way back to the car had we lingered much longer. Finding our car, we pack up and head out to our hotel in Alamogordo, still breathless at what we just saw.

The next morning we wake at 6:30 a.m. to be among the first in line when the park opens at 7. We’re not the only ones with the same idea. Even though the sun rises before 7, we are still eager to make the most of the golden hour light. Once again we drive back along the road and park this time at the Backcountry Camping Area, just to try a new area. The morning is freezing from the night and the wind is bitter before the sun starts to warm up the land. We wander around the dunes enamored with the morning light sparkling in the gypsum crystals. It’s not as impressive as the sunset last night, but still a sight to behold.

We don’t have a lot of time, so we hike around for an hour before heading back to the car to drive home. On our way we pass oryx tracks, a strange sight in New Mexico. As the story goes, hunters from Texas brought the African gazelle home from abroad for sport, but the herds have since then migrated into the dunes and multiplied. It is estimated some 3,000 oryx are still in the region. We find their tracks but don’t see any glimpse of the beautiful beasts, so we head on home happy enough with the gift of clear skies and a sunset to remember.