As a 12-year-old, Carlsbad Caverns seemed absolutely enormous and magically endless to me. My parents led the three of us kids through the dimly lit wonder hundreds of feet beneath the southeast New Mexican mountains when we were too young to appreciate what we were witnessing.
On our loop into Western states the other day, I was determined to revisit this legendary site to gain an adult's understanding of the divine craftsmanship beneath the Capitan Reef of the 250 million-year-old Delaware Basin and sea that stretched from Carlsbad, N.M., to Alpine, Texas. We know this because sea fossils such as bivalves and nautiluses remain preserved deep within the cave.
On this afternoon, we happened to arrive as the Caverns was celebrating an anniversary, having been protected as a National Park since 1923. That meant that for five days admission was free. So we saved $10, climbed aboard the elevator, and descended more than 700 feet to the restaurant and starting point for the self-guided walking tour. Two dozen other visitors already were setting off in various-sized groups on the mile-and-a-half trek into what I'd describe as a mood-lit Disneyland of the underworld.
This also is the very spot where in 1979, four armed men exited the elevator to begin firing into the lunch room area, taking about 100 hostages and threatening to blow up the elevator during a five-hour standoff that ended when authorities negotiated their surrender. Don't worry if you didn't remember that plot for Hollywood. I didn't either.
Things down here in the constant 55 degrees haven't changed dramatically from what I could recall of my childhood visit during the late 1950s. After all, it is a protected cave. The paved walkway appears to be something added. It is narrow but can accommodate two people walking side by side if they get shoulder-to-shoulder. It also allows others to pass. I quickly discovered the wisdom of using metal handrails on either side since the pathway tends to get wet from dripping ceilings that tower more than 100 feet above.
It was the majesty and grandeur of these stalactite-covered ceilings that I found most fascinating. These mineralized icicles measured all sizes, lengths and thickness, stretching in some cases to join the stalagmites rising from the earthen floor to form columns that appeared royally draped in glazed icing. More than a thousand lights and 19 miles of wiring highlighted the formations that in some instances appeared otherworldly.
The aptly labeled Big Room seems as large or larger than I remembered it, seeming to stretch like three large aircraft hangars attached end to end. Along the way, informative lighted plaques explained what you were seeing and placed it into perspective. And the titles for each of the sites seemed to fit. The "Bottomless Pit" (it really does have a bottom) does vanish into total darkness beneath you, making it feel endless.
A park ranger told me the cave lately has had problems with the electronics of its lighting system. Seems a lot of bulbs have been failing, which could present a big problem sooner or later. I figured our federal government is bound to find a way to fix that problem. Besides, they have a powerful backup generator to keep the cave lighted in an emergency.
The Mexican free-tailed bats that have rooted inside the caverns for thousands of years still hang upside down by the hundreds in the so-called Bat Cave section closed to the public. Yet between March and October visitors still watch them exit the natural cave entrance to make their impressive evening departure into the night to forage for dinner.
The closest I got to a bat in the caverns was a sizable pile of what appeared to be red clay. The sign assured me it was in fact "decomposing, reddish-brown deposits of guano, or bat droppings, which indicated a colony had roosted on the ceiling above long ago."
It took about 90 minutes to make the stroll through such amazing sights. The ups and downs were continuous, but it was the ups (in some instances fairly steep for 80 or more yards) that I felt, as did others around my age. That's why they offer benches every so often to rest and gaze at the incredible spectacle that, without question, has to be one of the top wonders of our planet.
I'm glad I made the long and boring drive across the seemingly endless flatness of West Texas to appreciate it.
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Mike Masterson's column appears regularly in the Arkansas Democrat-Gazette. Email him at mmasterson@arkansasonline.com.
Editorial on 08/30/2016