To the Bat Cave, Robin!

The COTA I work with knew of a cave in which there is thousands of bats. Every night around 7:30 the bats swarm out to feed, and one can watch them. We decided this would be a great option for the rehab team to do while hanging out. After work one day, we headed out.

I went with my fieldwork educator, whose name is Robin, hence the name of this post, while everyone else went with the boy PT (in case you were wondering, since I didn’t tell these folks I was going to write about them, I am going to refer to them by their job title, and since there is a boy and a girl PT, I will include their gender. Robin will from here on after be called “Boss”).

The cave was much farther away than I was envisioning. Really, everything is far away in this valley. We were heading straight into a thunderstorm. It was beautiful and wild. We could see exactly where the rain started. Then we drove into the rain. It got less fun. Much less fun.

I noticed shortly before the rain got really serious that we were passing by the UFO observatory. It’s a tiny platform and a campground in the middle of the valley. It looked a lot bigger in the pictures online.
Anyway, the rain was pounding down on our car, and then we drove into an area that had recently had a large quantity of hail. All of the cars slowed down greatly, and then Boss’ car started hydroplaning. I remember thinking, “We’re going to go in the ditch. Okay. Get ready.” Boss was able to straighten the car out at the last minute.

It took us over an hour to get to the trail head. Even at the trailhead though, the view was amazing. You could see the sun setting across the valley, reflecting off lakes and illuminating fields and trees. It really is a beautiful place.

The Valley

Girl PT and COTA

The hike wasn’t bad. We all split up into groups of two or three. I mostly walked with Boss, but I was concerned about being slow. I shouldn’t have been. We hiked up at a quick but not rushed pace. At one point, we saw COTA’s bag of sandwiches sitting next to the trail. I looked to my right, and there was her head, barely visible over the brush. It was a pit stop. I’m just thankful that the brush was there.

Old well?

 We passed a sign talking about the cave, and it mentioned how the cave is named “The Glory Hole.” I kid you not. Who named this place? I think probably a teenage boy.

The Glory Hole

Flying mammals

Boss

The Valley

Beauty!

Boy PT and Boss enjoying the view

More beauty

Sure sure.

 The view just kept getting more spectacular. As we neared The Glory Hole, there was a sign warning visitors to be quiet. With this group? Yeah, right.

They didn't say anything about controlling the adults.

Old mine

Honestly? No shame!

Those are bats!!!

We were the first people up at the entrance to The Glory Hole. We parked on a bench and people busted out food. SLP’s husband had brought extra burritos, so I got to eat one and that saved me from busting out my delicious trail mix. Conversation ranged from work topics to plant life to camping trips and what people wanted done if they ever got dementia. Others started trickling in, including a group of students from the University of Arkansas. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen that many men with one long braid down the middle of their backs in one place.

As we were talking, a woman walked up and told us that she was leading a tour. The Bat Queen asked if we wanted to see a picture of a bat skeleton. We said sure, and were disappointed to find that it was really uninteresting. She was describing what the bats look like when they start to swarm when Boss said, “Like that?” Sure enough, the bats were emerging from The Glory Hole. The Bat Queen mercifully left us alone to watch the swarm (flock? Herd?)


It was a much cooler experience than I thought it would be. Most of us were silent as we watched thousands upon thousands of bats fly out of the cavern. The sound of thousands of bat wings is hard to describe. It’s like a whirring. Every once in a while, you could hear the bats’ sonar squeaking. They formed an undulating, black, streaming cloud over our heads and spiraling down into the valley.

It stopped once for a few minutes and then the second group came out. It was very, very cool. After the stream became a trickle, we decided to head down. As we were leaving the old mine area, I heard Boss say “This place has great rock energy.” I decided not to ask for an explanation.

The hike down was fun. We made a myriad of Glory Hole jokes, among other things that were hilarious but I’m not going to put down here. We freaked out a young couple who hiked past us quickly, said we were funny, and then practically ran down the mountain.

Clouds

 I joined the group in male PT’s car as Boss was going to go straight home. We were having a lovely time in the car when suddenly boy PT pulled over. His car had a flat. There on the highway right by the Crestone exit, the men of the car changed the tire in nearly pitch blackness while the women of the car discussed the merits of Facebook. Girl PT and I both thought it was awesome and convenient, but we were both younger. COTA and SLP, who are both a little older, thought it was stupid. The conclusion was that they didn’t know how to use it and didn’t check it enough.

She is leaking!

COTA and SLP supervising men

Thanks gentlemen!

Although the drive was longer than I expected, the Bat Cave was really really cool. The hike was challenging enough to be interesting without making us all want to die, and it afforded wonderful views of this beautiful corner of the state. The bats were amazing. I highly recommend this if you’re in the San Luis Valley. But plan ahead: the bat migrate with their insect food source. They are here in the summer, but they move on for the fall and winter. The Glory Hole is not nearly as interesting without them. But you’d still get the views. And of course, the obvious source of jokes.

Adventures with Cori

My awesome and amazing friend of nearly 10 years (and roommate for 4 years) Cori decided to visit me on the 4th of July. I was so excited to see her and honored that she’d endure the 10 hour round trip just for me. Upon her arrival, during our lunch at Subway, we made our plan of attack for her visit.

Our first stop was Zapata Falls. The promise of getting to play in a waterfall was too much for Cori to pass up, and I was itching to go back and visit in Chacos so that I could actually get my feet in the water. We figured that being that it was a holiday, the falls would either be abandoned or packed. Unfortunately, the latter was true. It was a cluster you-know-what, with families, groups of teenagers, and even a huge Boy Scout troop hiking the half mile and mingling in the misty cavern waiting for their opportunity to get their picture taken next to the falls.

The large group of people joining us at the falls

I was so happy that I had worn my Chacos. I was able to wade through the river with the Chacos on and not have to worry about my feet getting hurt by rocks. Cori wore flip flops which she took off. At one point, she asked me to take a picture of her. I stood on a rock as Cori gingerly picked her way across the stream. As I waited for Cori to get into position, I noticed small girl desperately chased her wayward flip flop downstream. I laughed. It was one of those few moments where I actually liked that there were strangers present on the adventure. Overall, it was much better than my first time there, partly due to the company of my awesome friend, and partly because I didn’t fall in or lose any water bottles.

After the falls, Cori and I decided to go to the Sand Dunes. Unfortunately there was a storm hanging out over the dunes, which made us a little nervous about lightning. We decided to hang out at the Visitor’s Center for a little while to see if the storm would blow over. At the Visitor’s Center, I learned some fun facts, such as one of the biggest caldera’s in the world is in Southern Colorado. Science!

Cori is very excited

The storm blew over, so Cori and I headed to the dunes. One of the first things Cori did was take off her flip flops. I decided to follow suit. The damp, cold sand felt wonderful on our feet. It was great. It was actually much easier to walk on the sand with toes free to grip with. We trekked across the creek bed and up the dunes.

We decided not to try High Dune, and instead started up to the left of it. We stopped frequently to admire the view and to take rest breaks. After a Peanut Passion Picnic (PPP) we looked up and realized that we were actually quite close to the top of High Dune. We decided then that we had to go for it. It would only take us a few minutes.

It is amazing how fast you can get really really high!

Cori is excited for our PPP!

PPP!!!

Tiny people

Sunset

Well it took more than a few minutes to reach the top. The higher we got, the steeper we got. It was amazing and really really hard. After much longer than anticipated, we reached the summit of High Dune. The only other people up there were a German couple who were sitting off to one side. Cori and I took the requisite summit pictures and then sat to enjoy the view for a while.

It was really tiring!

The stick marking the top!

The view!

I made it!

Cori decided it was a good time to roll down the hill. She did, and I took a video. She clambered back up and insisted that I take a turn. I hate being dirty, but my feet were already extremely nasty from our barefoot hike and my pants were full of sand, so I decided to go for it. I didn’t expect how quickly I’d pick up speed. Sand whipped my face and I shut my eyes tightly while rolling. Getting nervous, I stopped fairly quickly and laughing, climbed back up the hill.

A short time later, a woman in shorts with trekking poles came hiking swiftly up the dune. She was very excited to reach the top, and took a bejeweled iPhone out of a baggie in her pocket and asked us to take a lot of pictures of her. We got to talking and found out her name was Sylvia. She was a French Canadian who was taking time off from owning her own work out facility and touring national parks in America. She had already been to quite a few, including the Grand Canyon. I took a picture with her and then Cori and I started down.

Me and our new friend Sylvia

Being as it had just rained, Cori and I had lugged my snow skate up the dunes. It was ineffective to ride while standing, but Cori discovered that on the firm sand, sitting on it proved to be the ticket to an awesome ride. We took turns sledding on the trip down whenever we came across areas of hard packed sand.

Our hike down took a long time, and although we had left Sylvia behind on the summit, she got down less than five minutes after we did. Cori and I brushed the sand off of us as best we could and headed home.

The Escape Dunes

Sunday evening I headed back to the dunes. It was overcast and I discovered that it had rained earlier in the day on the dunes. I was immediately upset that I had not brought my snow skate. The sand dunes website says that riding the dunes is best done after a rain. I would have to wait to find out if this is true.

This is a thing, okay? My self portrait to prove I was there. Mostly prove to me.  

An entirely different place just a day later

It was amazing to see how the personality of the sand changed in just over 24 hours. The day before, the sand was bright, tan, and Saharan in its appearance. I could pretend I was in the middle of the desert, as long as I ignored the mountains and the screaming families. Just one day later, and all the colors in the sand were brought out by the rain. The park was filled with otherworldly twilight. It was cool and wonderful.

I set out across the dry stream bed, heading north and parallel to the dunes. The map said the Escape Dunes were about a kilometer away from the main parking lot, so I was optimistic that it wouldn’t take long to get there. I had forgotten, in the space of just a day, that sand is DIFFICULT to walk in, and everything takes just a bit longer to do. Fortunately, in some areas the sand was hard which made the going much easier and quicker.

My destination was the little green patch just to the right of where that dune ends

Insert reference to Footprints in the Sand

Pretty!

It was approaching twilight

This little plant was lonely

Colors

Opps

After a while, I saw an area with some dead trees that I thought might be the escape dunes, but it was much closer than the area where I was headed. I decided I needed a better look, so I climbed up the nearest dune. I had been right the first time, so I continued heading north, but this time, on the ridge of sand I had climbed.

Going downhill in sand is fun. It almost makes you feel weightless, as you slide step by step downwards. I made it down my dune and headed into the Escape Dunes.

Path down the hill

Some of the residents of the Escape Dunes

More dead trees

Hey, it's a dead tree!

I really liked this tree and took a bunch of photos of it. I'll just show this one.

Well, they were not as neat as I thought they would be. I mean, they were cool, with the skeletons of trees reaching into the sky. But they were smaller than I had envisioned. I took some pictures and then headed back, reflecting on how the journey was more important than the destination. (Deep right?)

I found it a little weird to cross my tracks from the trip out. I got philosophical about it in my thoughts, but I will spare you that. Anyways, my overall perspective was that it was a neat thing to do. Not necessarily something that you HAVE to do when you come here though.

My tracks crossing

Bye!

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. . .