4k Miles. 6 States. 7 National Parks. 16 Days in a Van – Leg 4
Check out the previous leg of this jeopardized journey here:
Leg 4 Travel Map – 32 miles
From Dust to Depth: Guadalupe to Carlsbad Caverns
I left Guadalupe Mountains National Park feeling… satisfied. Not blown away, but satisfied. It was probably the least spectacular national park I’ve visited so far—but it gave me exactly what I needed: a solid hike and a chance to stretch my legs in solitude. Sometimes, that’s enough.
Heat, Haste, and the Highway
After hiking the McKittrick Trail, I made it back to the car just before the Texas sun turned the landscape into a frying pan. I had a bit of a cushion to make it to Carlsbad Caverns—but not much.
I headed northeast, unknowingly crossing from Texas into New Mexico. The terrain didn’t shift dramatically; Carlsbad Caverns National Park surroundings echo Guadalupe—dry, scrubby, and not particularly photogenic. But as the road began winding into the mountains, things perked up a little.
Arrival at the Caverns
Pulling into the Carlsbad Caverns parking lot, I was met with a sweeping, seemingly endless view of the desert floor below. Unlike Guadalupe, it was clear this was a high-traffic, high-interest park. The enormous parking lot was already brimming with people. So this was why they needed timed-entry reservations.
I parked far from the visitor center, laced up my shoes, and made my way in. I had only reserved a ticket for the elevator down to the Big Room—my knees weren’t about to let me take the Natural Entrance Trail with its 750-foot descent. Maybe one day. Maybe after bionic upgrades.
Descent into the Unknown
Inside the visitor center, I checked in and was told where to wait near the elevators. I browsed the gift shop, bought a retro 70s-style sticker for the van fridge, used the restroom, and waited. When our group was called, a ranger gave a short intro—mostly reminding us not to touch anything. A single rock near the elevator was the “sacrificial touchstone,” so people could get it out of their system. Clever.
The elevator ride was fast and surreal. Instead of floor numbers, it showed how many feet we were descending—750, in seconds. When the doors opened at the bottom, I stepped into a dimly lit area that looked like a cross between a sci-fi movie set and a subterranean gift shop. For a moment, I wondered if this was the Big Room. I wasn’t even mad—already pretty impressed. But then the real magic began.
The Air, the Awe, the Alien World
From the first steps on the trail, the change in air hit me. Above ground, it was pushing 90 degrees with bone-dry desert air. Down here? Maybe 55 degrees, with thick, humid air that wrapped around my skin like aloe. After days in dry heat, my cracked lips and parched skin felt instant relief. It reminded me of a misty night in the foothills of Mauna Kea, Hawaiʻi.
As I began the 1.2-mile loop around the Big Room, I was floored. Absolutely floored. I’d seen caverns before—but nothing like this. The scale was absurd. Cavernous (obviously), but on a level that defied belief. The ceiling soared 200, maybe 300 feet in places. The formations—stalactites, stalagmites, draperies, crystal-clear pools—were lit just enough to highlight their alien beauty without killing the mood. Every turn brought something new. I was slack-jawed for most of it.
There is a shortcut loop in the middle for those who can’t do the full walk, and a barrier where wheelchairs must stop. But even doing the entire route, the trail was manageable, and the other visitors were courteous and calm—there was a kind of reverence in the air.
Impossible to Capture
Photos don’t do this place justice. Not even close. Even with a great phone camera, you just can’t capture the scale or atmosphere. It’s one of those rare places that makes you feel small—not in a bad way, but in a “wow, this world is full of miracles” kind of way.
I’ve been to 29 national parks now. Yosemite and Acadia are probably my favorites in terms of sheer beauty. But Carlsbad Caverns? It’s in a category of its own. Not the most beautiful—but definitely the most unbelievable. Yosemite makes sense to the eyes and brain. Carlsbad does not. It feels impossible.
Reemergence and Reflection
By the time I finished the loop and returned to the elevator, I noticed something in the faces around me. Everyone looked… lifted. There was a lightness, a spark—like we had all seen something sacred. And yeah, I had to hold in a massive fart. Close quarters. Too risky.
We zipped 750 feet back to the surface, and as soon as I stepped out, I could feel my lips dry out again and crack. The desert was still waiting for me.
Aftermath
Now what? I hadn’t looked beyond Carlsbad Caverns yet—partly because I didn’t think I was going to make it in the same day as Guadalupe. But here I was, stunned and changed. It wasn’t just a stop on the map. It was a turning point in the journey.
The occasional drip from above breaks the stillness of this clear, quiet pool at the bottom of the caverns. Each drop feels like a glimpse into the glacial pace that shaped this place—one trillionth of a second in a story carved drop by drop, grain by grain. The cavern formed. And standing there, watching it, you couldn’t help but feel small. Insignificant, even. But in awe.
Check out leg 5 here:
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