Day 11: June 23, 2011

11:08 am

90 Degrees F

En route to Dallas from Abilene

Writing on June 25, 2011

I’ve been nervous about writing this entry because I want to get it right—visiting the Carlsbad Caverns was honestly one of the most incredible, life-changing experiences of my life. Teddy agrees. I’m going to try my best to describe it, so here goes.

We slept with the sheer tent covering on so we could maximize breezes in the 100 degree desert campsite. I don’t know if you’ve ever been woken up after a night’s rest by blazing sunlight hitting your body, but it’s kind of surreal and not very comfortable. We had purchased a second night at Brantley State Park so we could spend all day at Carlsbad Caverns. So, we kept our tent up and raced out of the campsite as soon as we could to get to the air-conditioned Matrix.

On the way, we drove through the weird town of Carlsbad—it’s actually about 45 minutes away from the caverns, so it does not have any “National Park” vibe about it. We got yelled at by an enormous construction worker for trying to make a turn in his unfinished IHOP parking lot. We were happy to get out of the town and into cavern-land. Adrienne had warned us that the caverns might be closed due to fires—we would have been so disappointed. Luckily, the fires had stopped. But, on the drive up to the visitors’ center, we could see the damage. Every inch of the hills around us was burnt to a crisp—once green cacti were now a sallow yellow and others were charred black. It was sad to see so much loss, but apparently the fire has some ecological benefits, too—new bugs come to feed on the burned vegetation, etc.

There is a mile and a half walk down from the visitor’s center into the not-so-creatively-titled “Big Room”—the main cavern space. We decided to take this hike as opposed to the cop-out elevator ride to the bottom. We’re so glad we did. The entrance into the cave is this gaping black maw into nothingness—it’s so eerie and exciting to enter the caverns like this, knowing what you’ll see when you get down there. Once you descend the switchback trails into the big open chasm, the temperature drops—and I mean really drops. The cave maintains a more or less steady temperature of 56 degrees—it felt so good to feel a little chilly again. The first things that greet you at the opening are the hundreds and hundreds of adorable cave swallows. During the summertime, they nest in the mouth of the cave, flying in and out to feed their babies. They make the most adorable sounds—a variety of clucking, chirping and almost purring. It’s also cacophonous! The cave mouth is most famous for the bats, which emerge by the thousands at twilight every summer evening. But the swallows hang out all day and make the most beautiful songs to welcome you into the cavern. We’ll get to a more intimate discussion of the swallows later.

After you walk into the dark entrance, you get a bit of an idea of why these caverns are so famous—and so amazing. The farther you walk, the more incredible it becomes. The cave is bathed in a soft yellow light—the bulbs strategically placed so the cavern can show off its most exceptional formations. Also, if it weren’t lit, we would be in complete and utter darkness. There are so many different kinds of formations—they are shaped by the flow of water seeping through the limestone edges. The cave was actually a reef formation under an ocean millions of years ago. When the water from that ocean drained, these limestone reef walls, packed with fossils, became the foundation for the formations. Water began to creep its way in from the surface.

Coming in from the ceiling, the water, carrying calcium carbonate and other minerals, slowly trickled down to create hard rock in the form of stalactites and “soda straws”. The soda straws are really long, extremely thin, hollow tubes hanging from the ceilings. The stalactites are made by a faster drip—they can be just HUGE! There are just thousands of them to stare at; it’s a bit eerie to gaze up at the ceiling and see these sharp mineral icicles pointed at you. But, they’re not going anywhere, apparently. Stalagmites—the ground formations—are shaped by a quick stream of mineral water that doesn’t cling to the ceiling as easily.

There are a variety of crazier looking structures that are pretty miraculous, actually. “Popcorn” is formed by the water evaporating and leaving its minerals. Teddy says that this type, while not the prettiest, is his favorite. “Drapery” is caused by the water dripping sideways down a limestone wall.

Below: The Whale's Mouth--my favorite


Below: Popcorn

All of these processes combined have, over millions of years, built an unbelievable landscape that is just awe-inspiring. There are hundreds of shapes which researchers and early cave visitors have personified as different characters—there is an enormous whale, a caveman, a child’s theatre, “The Queen’s Orchestra”. This last formation is particularly wonderful—the water dripped sideways and strangely to build what looks like a conductor directing his orchestra.

I really can’t give an overall picture, with my words, of what this place does to you. It’s kind of like a sanctuary; it’s almost silent, with the exception of an irritating screaming child (who really doesn’t get it anyway) and the consistent dripping of an ancient water trickle. The low lighting resulted in some fuzzy pictures, but even if they were perfectly clear, they couldn’t capture the feeling of being in it. The cave’s atmosphere has 90% humidity and has a damp, musty smell—it’s not a bad smell at all, just “cavey”. I actually loved the smell. (And you know what? Disneyland gets it right once again—some of the underground, cave-like places in the park, like Splash Mountain or Tom Sawyer’s Island have similar smells. Also, Walt does justice to stalactites and stalagmites, too.)

Below: Check out the face on this one; it's called "The Caveman"

Below: The Rock of Ages

Below: The Big Room

One thing that does smell pretty bad is the entrance where the swallows live. The combination of swallow poop and bat guano is pretty intense. But, the bats are great! We sat through a couple of bat presentations and I got to “Adopt a Bat”. Carlsbad Caverns is a huge proponent of bats and of educating people about them. Only about 1% has rabies, they don’t suck your blood, and they really don’t want anything to do with you except eat your pesky bugs. Together, the bats at Carlsbad can eat up to two VW Beetles’ worth of insects every night. They are so important, and obviously, I think they’re adorable. We got a certificate for our bat adoption and we named him Bela Lugosi, of course.

We purchased a tour before hand to see the King’s Palace—a guided-tour-only area. We were with about 40 other people and Ranger Rick—yup that’s his name. The King’s Palace is a huge cavern with some truly impressive formations. As Teddy says, “They actually defy description, so you shouldn’t even try”. See pictures. Ranger Rick’s awful pun humor made some people roll their eyes but I’m a sucker and I laughed very sincerely. At one point, Ranger Rick had us sit down and wait in complete silence while he shut the lights off. He asked us to listen to the sounds of the cave and tell him what we heard—all Teddy and I could hear were the oblivious Japanese tourists who didn’t get the memo. They eventually caught on and it was so quiet and SO dark.

America! The cafe INSIDE the cave.

Below: King's Palace

Below: On the ceiling of the Papoose Room. An example of drapery

Below: The Queen's Orchestra

Below: The Lion's Tail


Cave pool...

After the tour, we were on our own. We could either ride up the elevator or hike the mile and a half back to the mouth of the cave. We really didn’t know what time it was, but figured we had a few hours to spare before the famous bat cave came alive. After a full round of pictures and more sessions of staring-in-awe in The Big Room, we headed for the natural entrance. The switchback trails on the way back were much more difficult—vertical and unending. We made it to the top where we knew it was still light out; a miraculous, perfect beam of light shone into the cave from the opening of the entrance. We knew how lucky we were to arrive at the mouth of the cave at that exact hour of the afternoon; it’s a very famous Carlsbad view and has been photographed many times over the years, but it only happens for about an hour a day.

We stood below the natural entrance, taking pictures and enjoying the sights and sounds of the cave. The cave swallows were still chirping and clucking in their sweet way. It was noisy, but also comforting—their loud voices signaled the fact that we had reached the end of our journey.

But, Carlsbad Caverns was not quite done with us yet. The best adventure was still to come. Before we could reach the top of the opening, we noticed two men coming down towards us with huge metal poles, backpacks and some clipboards. I thought of just saying hello and walking right by them, but I was too curious to find out what they were doing. I assumed they would be photographing the bats as they emerged from the cave—civilians aren’t allowed to take pictures of the nightly event because it disturbs the bats’ flight. Instead, the men told us that they were netting and banding the cave swallows. They have been running a study of Carlsbad cave swallows for thirty years. Their research of the species is the most comprehensive in tracking migration. Because of their work, cave swallows have been found all the way down in Mexico and Costa Rica. These guys—Steve and Dave—do the netting and banding as a hobby. They have other careers in science, but basically do this because they love this animal.

Teddy and I couldn’t believe we had stumbled upon something so interesting and important. I couldn’t help myself; I asked if we could stay and watch them capture some birds—secretly hoping we might be able to help. To my sincere joy, Steve and Dave asked us to stay and band birds! They were waiting for a group of interns from the Bureau of Land Management for assistance, but we could help set up and do a few captures. I was absolutely brimming with excitement. Teddy climbed up a ledge to hold one side of the net, Steve took the other. They set up the net in the mouth of the cave, where the swallows fly in and out to find insects to feed their babies. I waited with Dave to catch the first bird. Soon enough, a little swallow got caught in the net and Teddy lowered his side so we could free her. Dave pulled her from the thing black strings and started the banding process.

He held her in a “banding hold”, supporting her in a delicate way, but with her wings immobile. Then he checked for a “bird patch” by blowing on her tummy feathers. If the bird is a girl, her feathers will pull back to reveal a large red fleshy spot where the eggs are held underneath. Then, he banded her little leg with a tiny metal ring. The ring is numbered so they can track the bird’s movement. There’s a funny moment where Dave stuffs the bird in a little plastic bag, rolls up the bag, clips it shut and weighs her. Then, he sets her free.

The next bird was mine! She got caught in the net, and I was sent to pull her out. She was cheeping a little bit, but I tried to calm her down. I stroked her, talked to her and held her while I pulled on the threads. The threads get caught everywhere on her little body—over her head, around her wings, in between her little talons. It’s like a puzzle trying to release them sometimes, but you get used to it—you try to figure out the side of the net they fell into and work from there. When I finally twisted my first bird out of the net, I was so excited! She was such a sweet little thing. I held her in the palm of one hand and supported her wings so she wouldn’t escape. I stroked her pretty head and she looked up at me with these gorgeous black eyes. It was so incredible to hold this tiny little creature—her heart was beating kind of fast and you could see her little chest rise and fall, but she was still calm. I think the swallows, after thirty years of this drill, know and trust the people who band them. I handed her over to Dave who took down all of her stats. He gave me back my little bird so I could release her. I was so happy. Yeah, I actually started crying a little bit. Teddy thinks I’m sweet and probably kind of a dork, but he knows how much something like this means to me.

He thought it was pretty great too. Once the other helpers arrived, Teddy got down from his position as net holder and got to help untangle the birds. Altogether, over the next 3 hours, we untangled about fifteen birds. This was a slow day for Dave and Steve at only about 55 birds total—a lot of them recaptures. By the end of our netting session, I was the happiest girl in the world with bird poop all over her. For me, that afternoon was a dream come true.

Bird patch=girl bird.

My hitchhiker's "thumbs up" is more of a "thumbs sideways"...

As you can imagine, I could barely contain my joy.

It was about to get even more awesome. We had to disassemble the net quickly because it was almost time for the bats to fly. Dave and Steve promised us the best seats in the house. While the rest of the Carlsbad visitors sit in an amphitheatre above the natural entrance, we had the privilege of sitting INSIDE the cavern—watching from below as the bats flew out of the cave. Teddy and I took a seat on one of the trails up so we could get the best view. I wondered how we would know when the bats started their flight. I figured out soon enough when something in the air changed—all of a sudden, the swallows stopped their chattering and everything went silent. Quickly, the bats emerged from the cave depths. It was so eerie sitting in a cave at twilight with bats whizzing by our heads.

But, it was also so amazing. The swallows encircle the mouth of the cave in a neat pattern—following one another in and out of some sort of air column. The bats, on the other had, fly very differently—darting about as if they were blind in every odd direction. But they’re not blind—they have their ecolocation. Even though it looked as though they were flying directly at our faces, they would dash upwards or sideways as soon as they flew inches near us. We had to remain in complete silence. And I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. It was magical to hear these tiny little ticks and clicks—so different from the swallows—of the bats’ sonar. It sounded like insects chirping. The other sound they make is a collective wing flap—low and deep and creepy. We got to see hundreds more bats than the people in the amphitheatre—apparently, because of the fire, some bats dart back over us into the cave. When the flight was over, the swallow clucking came back just a little bit, and we had to leave the cave. While I really never wanted this night to end, we were so exhausted at this point that it felt good to get back in the car and head back to the tent. What a beautiful day it was.