The Great Sand Dunes

I have been looking forward to going to the Sand Dunes ever since I decided to do my fieldwork in Alamosa. It goes back to high school, when I discovered from the best anatomy teacher in the world, Mr. Gigliotti, that you can ride down the dunes on a ski. I bought some cheap skis at that point at never ended up going. At some point, I must have given them away because I couldn’t find them in preparation for this trip at all. I brought down my snow skate (a long plastic board just a bit shorter than my long skateboard) in hopes that it would work just as well.


It finally came time for me to go to the dunes, and I packed much lighter this time around, having learned from my Zapata Falls adventure. I headed out by 8:30 on Saturday morning because the sand can reach temperatures of upwards of 140 degrees so it’s best to visit the dunes in the morning or the evening.
The drive went quickly, and I was struck by the amount of smoke in the air. In case you don’t know, Colorado is currently on fire, and the smoke from the various infernos around the state has been pooling in the valley, giving the air the scent of camp fires and making the sunsets a beautiful blood red that almost makes you forget the damage being done to forests, homes, and lives.

The sand dunes and the mountains, shrouded in smoke

I arrived at the national park to find that I was apparently late for visiting the dunes. Families of all different shapes and sizes were trekking across the dry bed of Medano Creek (which only runs for a few weeks out of the year) towards the massive, towering dunes.  I had visited the sand dunes twice as a child, but we had never made it onto the dunes themselves. This is because blowing sand hurts and as a kid, that matters more than climbing on big hills of sand. I gathered my things, including my snow skate which I shoved through the straps of my backpack against my back, and headed out.

Self portrait starting out, just to prove I was there. Look how optimistic!

One of the MANY families at the dunes that day.

I discovered something then that I had known but forgotten living in a state that has more gravel than sand: it’s really hard and tiring to walk on sand. I mean really hard. Add to that an elevation that is about a thousand feet higher than what I was already living at in Alamosa, the temperature, which was slowly rising despite how early in the day it was, and to be honest, being not in the best shape (but I’m WORKING on it!), and I was quickly reevaluating my original goal of climbing to the top of High Dune, which, at 650 feet, is still 100 feet shy of being the highest dune in the park but appears to be the highest when you’re coming from the parking lot. 

Dunes with the mountains behind

I got across the stream bed and started up the first dune I came to. It was not easy going. This revealed to me a perk about adventuring alone: no one can hear you gasp for breath. And I was. It was wonderfully difficult, and I was instantly in love with this place. After I reached the top, I surveyed the families sledding down the dunes and decided that it was time to try out the snow skate. The website had said that this sort of thing is much better after a rain, which had not occurred. The skate didn’t move at all. I decided that since I lugged this thing across the stream bed, which I was not about to cross until I was ready to leave, I would use the skate as a chair.

So much sand!

After a short rest, I took off towards the larger dunes. I wanted to get higher, to see more, to conquer this place that was wearing me out. I sent my dad a text saying I was on the dunes, and he called me. It was weird to talk on the phone with someone while on a landscape so foreign. I texted a picture to my friend Kendall with the caption “Guess where I am right now. . .” She replied, “The Sahara Desert???” I wish. 

After climbing around, taking pictures, and resting a bit, I started down. The wind picked up and started blowing sand in my face. This was the sand dunes that I remember. Painful. I made the mistake of standing downwind of the top of a dune to make room for the largest family in the world to slowly pass. It was not pleasant. As I continued down, a man with a pack, a floppy brimmed hat, and trekking poles passed me at a respectable clip. “How is the boarding?” he asked.

“It didn’t work.” I replied.

“Oh no! And you brought that all the way up here! Well, I’m sure you can get wax for it!” he said, and continued bopping up the hill.

Tiny people playing on the dune

Tracks

Glory!

Going down the dunes is much quicker and more fun than climbing up. I got to my car before deciding to find the Escape Dunes, which is an area where the dunes are overtaking a forest. The sand surrounds the white skeletons of dead trees. Sounds awesome. After getting directions from a park ranger and discovering that it required 4 wheel drive to get to (which I totally HAVE!) I set off.

At first the 4 wheeling was fun. I absolutely love bouncing down crazy rough roads, so I was laughing and having a lovely time. I happily passed the sign saying “Point of No Return. 4 Wheel Drive required beyond this point. Strictly enforced.” A family was hiking by the road and the son was on the other side. I stopped to let them cross, but they waved me on. The stop proved to be a mistake. As I attempted to continue on, my car sunk in the deep sand. I tried to switch into 4WD low, but couldn’t. I opened the door and said, “Well it looks like I’m stuck!” to the  family.

“You shouldn’t have stopped for us.” the father said.

“You think?” I thought. He told me to put the car in neutral and then try to switch into low. It worked, but the spinning of my tires just made me sink deeper.

It was then that a phenomenon that I’ve experienced on every occasion where I have had car trouble happened again. Men started appearing. They emerged from seemingly nowhere, climbing over trees and rocks in an effort to prove their manhood through getting me out of the sand pit.

A couple of large fellows started digging behind my front tires and putting branches and rocks behind them. Three SUVs full of men appeared from behind me, and the front SUV fortunately had a wench. Forest rangers appeared. I barely had to do anything. The rocks and branches didn’t work. My tires spun uselessly in the sand, creating sand geysers taller than my car. We all pushed as one of the fellows drove. Nothing happened. Finally we hooked up the wench to my rear bumper and that worked. I thanked them all, shook their hands, and hightailed it out of there. That was more than enough excitement for one day. The Escape Dunes would have to wait until the next day. I decided to hike to them. 

Until next time. . .