A Day at the Dunes: Sand, Sun and Tears

From our picnic area, the massive sand dunes did not look too big; in fact, the sandy dooms, resting against the backdrop of blue snow capped mountains and a cloudless sky appeared tranquil and inviting on the warm summer day.  After visiting the dunes years before, my brother Andy and I decided to drive the 5 hours from Colorado Springs to Alamosa, Colorado so that our visiting extended family could experience this internationally known tourist attraction.  After eating a hearty picnic lunch, we decided to leave my grandmother to her reading and take my cousins (10 and 6 years old), my aunt, and my uncle across the river to hike the dunes.  Our goal was simple: to conquer the highest dune.  But this “simple” goal was about to become one of the most difficult physical feats any of us had ever endured; only two would make it to the top.

As I said, from a distance, the “highest dune” did not appear to be that tall.  You could see armies of microscopic people scaling the dune, reassuring that the trek could not possibly be that challenging.  Armed with water bottles and towels, we started towards the dune, eagerly anticipating the view from the top.  But even before we reached the base of the dune, we faced our first obstacle: the Medano Creek.  This temptress lures in hikers with its cool, refreshing water, offering relief from the hot sand.  Unable to resist the temptation, we stopped to dip our feet in the slow moving currents; however, our refreshment was quickly replaced with dismay as we realized how easily the surrounding sand clung to our wet skin.  Unable to completely dry off our feet, we forced our socks and shoes onto sandy feet, feeling the grind of gritty particles against our skin with each step.

When we finally reached the base, a 15 minute walk through a flat plain of sand, we discovered that the dune, a mere hill from the distance, loomed above us at a height of 650 feet.  To add to our dismay, there were no trails, merely vanishing footprints marking the path of your predecessors.  After choosing a pair of rapidly retreating footprints, we began to hike.  At first, the climb was fun.  The warmth of the sand and low incline reminded you of walking on a beach. But after only 10 minutes, everything changed.  I began to notice the heat of the direct sun on my neck, the heat of the sand piling up in my shoes, the strain on my legs as the path grew increasingly steep.  My uncle, over 6 feet tall and an avid hockey player, quickly gave and began to make his way back down the dune.  My little cousin, aware of her father’s discomfort, was persuaded to continue only after I offered to carry her on my back. 

For the next 20 minutes, we hiked without words; my brother forging the way as the rest of us breathlessly fell behind.  When we finally stopped for a water break, we were exhausted.  From this point, we could see that what we thought was one dune was actually multiple dunes, converging to create deep valleys and steep ridges.   In order to go any higher, we would be forced to walk down a bowl-shaped valley and climb the almost vertical wall to the top of the next dune.  Going down was easy, climbing back up that proved nearly impossible.  The sand of the dunes could reach up to 150 degrees Fahrenheit, a fact our bare legs quickly discovered as sand caved in with every step.  Our only relief was at the top of the bowl we were stranded inside.  After placing our cousins on our backs, my brother and I crawled up the wall, enduring the burn of the sand which now engulfed both our arms and legs.  It took us 20 minutes to scale this wall, using every last ounce of energy (and water) we had left.  At the top, my aunt decided to take the two cousins back down the dune, knowing there was no way they could make it to the top. 

Only my brother and I remained.  After catching our breath, we began to hike the last half of the dune.  We were forced countless times to walk on narrow ridges, surrounded by plunging depths and plummeting valleys, which threatened to consume us.  Finally we reached the top of the “highest dune”, but sadly, this dune was not the actually the highest.  After scaling the infamous “High Dune”, actually the second highest dune, we were able to see the hidden “Star Dune”, indistinguishable from the parking lot but discernable at this close distance.

We pondered turning back, but we had come this far; we were resolved to conquer the dunes.  At this point in the hike, the masses of hikers had dwindled to only one or two in sight. The dunes had conquered hundreds of hikers who had flocked to them that day, but digging into an unknown energy reserve, my brother and I set out to climb this final peak.  Every hardship we had faced only multiplied as we climbed the last dune.  The sand was hotter and more abundant, pouring into our shoes from every crack and hole; the sun was hotter as the elevation climbed.  Our water was gone and so was our strength.  The “ground” we walked on became increasingly unstable, forcing us to take five or six steps to gain one yard. 

Finally, only one last wall of sand stood between us and the peak.  My brother set out, eager to reach the peak, relying on his cross country endurance to pull him through.  I straggled behind, until he became a dot in the distance.  Exhausted, I sat down on the burning sand, out of energy, and decided to wait for him to return.  I simply could not go any farther.  After a few minutes passed, I heard energetic voices coming towards me.  I looked up, and squinting, I could distinguish a pair of hikers approaching in the sandy haze.  When they finally reached me, one of them reached down a weathered hand to help me up, speaking to me in rapid Spanish.  They beckoned me to follow them up the peak, and having no energy to argue, I did.  I was astonished to find that as I walked in their footprints, the sand became firm, requiring less energy to climb.  So literally, in the footsteps of these two unknown hikers, I was able to scale the peak.

The top of the dune was breathtaking.  From the parking lot, a person could only see a ridge of dunes with one discernable summit; however, from the top, one could see sandy dunes stretching out in every direction.  The sweat and tears that had led to this summit made the view all the more breathtaking.  My brother and I lost track of time as we sat at the summit, looking over the wide expanse of sand, allowing our fatigued bodies to finally rest.  

The trip back was almost entirely downhill.  My brother and I would lean forward, allowing gravity to pull us down with avalanches of sand, making the trip back down quick and easy.  We took pictures and videos as our legs spun out of control, causing us to tumble down embankments of sand.  In retrospect, I am positive that this is the most trying physical feat I have ever participated in; however, it also remains one of the most memorable experiences of my life.  The best part?  I have pictures from the summit on that day to remind myself that I conquered the dune, and that more importantly, the dune failed to conquer me.