Alamogordo, New Mexico

I did it. While Robin stayed in the RV and had a leisurely breakfast, I went back into the Big Room and walked all the way through. My timing was pretty good. Last night, one of the rangers told me that they were expecting a group of, I think, 97 school children to arrive this morning. Aargh. We got to the caverns at about 9:00 a.m., and I didn't see any school buses. I went in, and there were six other tourists in the room, plus a few rangers, who appeared to be checking for falling stalactites. Four of the half-dozen tourists were the chatty type. They were talking in loud voices and hollering to check out the echo. Charming. Then a ranger shone a flashlight in their direction and said "Lower your voices, please." Yes! I rushed through the first part of the cave, to get away from the noisies, and for most of the walk, I was alone. Then, as I was approaching the exit, I saw an army of people coming in. There must have been at least fifty people - and these still weren't the expected children. I breathed a sigh of relief and left while I could still hear the silence.

When Robin went in yesterday, he asked me (softly) what piece of music the park should play in the cavern, were they to do such a thing, and I said "The Albinoni Adagio". Today, I stand by my decision, but in truth, what kept going through my head this morning was Paul Simon's You Can Call Me Al, because the man in the song sees angels in the architecture, spinning in infinity, and he says "Amen! Hallelujah!" Yep. That's Carlsbad Caverns in a nutshell.

At 10:30, I finished my walk and drove the motor home down the hill to White's City (a clump of shops and a hotel at the bottom of the hill). Robin decided to ride his bike down, so I met him there. We drove back through Carlsbad and on to Alamogordo, which involved a climb to well over 8,000 feet. Robin did most of that climb while I took a nap. It's just as well that I was asleep during the first part of his drive. The wind was so strong, he thinks he was up on two wheels at one point.

Now, we're sitting in a very pleasant park at 4000-odd feet, breathing much better, watching the approach of what the local people sincerely hope is a rainstorm. If that does happen, we may be here for another night, but if not, we'll be going to White Sands National Monument in the morning, then heading west.

In the course of today's drive, I made a discovery about myself. Robin had been driving for an hour on Highway 20 in western Texas. The landscape was virtually featureless. I thirsted for a cactus, a hill, a tree – anything more than knee high and preferably some colour other than yellow or greenish-brown.

We stopped alongside the road to eat lunch and change drivers. I sat in the captain's chair, just behind the cab. Robin said “Are you okay?” I wasn't, really. I sat there, chin on chest, leaning against the passenger seat, staring out the window. Now that we had stopped, I could see that the yellow grass beside the road was blowing in the wind. That comforted me. Still, I found it difficult even to raise my head. I tried to explain to Robin how I was feeling, but the words wouldn't come.

It occurred to me that I need edges, definition. Stranded in the desert – at least this desert – I might just sit down and die. The emptiness around me refused to stay outside. It crept into my mind and pressed downward. I suspect I would feel the same way if I were far out at sea, out of the sight of land. It looked as if, no matter how far we drove, we would never come to the end of the desolation.

It was my turn to drive, and I did, though I really just wanted to curl up in a ball. Soon, the landscape began to change. There was the occasional yucca to break up the monotony of the foreground, and in the distance there was what looked like an enormous escarpment. Glaciers? Here?

The sight of a genuine feature on the landscape gave me new hope, and I drove more eagerly than before. After another hour, Robin took over driving, and I was able to enjoy the change of scenery even more. We turned north on Hwy 285, then west on 652, which took us closer and closer to what turned out to be the Guadalupe Mountains. Not only were we heading for the mountains, we were heading for Carlsbad Caverns. Oh, bliss. When we came to Hwy 62/180, we turned north again and drove to the caverns. It was after three o'clock, so we had only enough time to do the abbreviated tour of the Big Room. Robin didn't want to do any more walking than that, anyway, so that was okay.

We took the elevator 750 feet down - or so said the Truly Obnoxious Elevator Operator - to the Big Room. I said I needed edges and definition, features on the landscape, didn't I? Well, if I have a problem with the vast desolation that is the Chihuahuan Desert, I can say with confidence that I have no trouble at all with being in a cave. We walked down a narrow corridor to an enormous cavern, the Big Room, where we were surrounded by huge stalagmites and stalactites. As soon as we walked into the Big Room, tears came to my eyes. While I stumbled along the dimly lit walkway, my mind was dancing and skipping. I saw a huge congregation of stone people who stand eternally in the Hall of Giants, waiting for the giants to speak - or perhaps, listening when they do. There is something called the Chinese Theatre, an area in which the stalagmites look like pagodas. In places, I seemed to look at forests stretching off into the distance. Pools of water looked like deep canyons, but really the water just reflects the cave's ceiling. When we had been walking for ten or fifteen minutes, a ranger came along and said we would have to take the shortcut to the exit, because they would soon be closing the cave. Then and there, I decided that I will be going back in tomorrow. If we had kept walking, we would have come to The Bottomless Pit. Who could resist checking out the Bottomless Pit? There are other activities available, all of them more strenuous than the Big Room self-tour, and I may get adventurous, but for sure, I'm going back to see The Bottomless Pit!

Robin dragged me out of the cavern, and we drove to the Carlsbad RV Park, about 15 miles north. We have real television here, so I'm watching "House" with half an eye while I type. I can hardly wait to go back to the caverns.