Colorado’s Great Sand Dunes

The parking lot is overflowing. Barefooted families picnic in the sand, men throw Frisbees for dogs to chase and young girls sleep in the sun. On the lower dunes, young children lie on their sides and roll to the bottom. Some ride plastic sleds. Higher up people-watchers sit and watch the scenes below. Higher still are trekkers with an aim for the top taking a rest.

My husband, Mark, and I are in southern Colorado at the Great Sand Dunes National Monument, one of the most awe-inspiring national beauties I’ve ever seen. A ranger at the visitors’ center spoke on the difference between a Park and a Monument. It’s an involved definition. Please see http://www.nps.gov/grsa/wahtsthediff.htm to learn for yourself. (The Great Sand Dunes area is now a National Park.)

The highest of the ever-changing Great Sand Dunes are over 700 feet, and daredevils on their snowboards-turned-sandboards are beginning their descents to the bottom, zigzagging down the dunes. Mark and I plan to hike to the top. After climbing several dunes we collapse for a rest. My camera case is around my neck, unzipped, and without my realizing, my $230 zoom-lens camera falls out into the sand. I take the last four shots on the roll and listen to the auto rewind grind the film into its canister.

Even though hundreds of people are here, the expanse of the dunes make us feel solitary. The peacefulness sooths my burning ire of getting sand in my camera. This Sunday before Labor Day, we each have our own section of the dunes to enjoy, and there’s still plenty to go around. Mark and I sit in the sand watching little boys slide down the steep lower dunes at break-neck speeds while their mothers recline with a book and enjoy the early September sun. We watch young men carry their boards ever higher to the peaks of the equally steep upper dunes and then “surf” down.

After a 10-minute rest, Mark and I hike up the next couple dunes, yet the top seems no closer. We give up our goal of the summit and head down. Mark sweetly offers to carry the camera case so that I can have some fun running down the steep sides. I brought a plastic garbage bag to try as a sled, but it doesn’t work. I really was looking forward to sledding, but running down the dunes is surprisingly fun too.

The Great Sand Dunes are in southern Colorado straight down SR 17 in Mosca, which means fly in Spanish—though we didn’t see a single insect. The park has lodgings at more than $100 a night. Alamosa, 14 miles south on 17, has less expensive lodging opportunities. Mark and I have reservations at a Bed and Breakfast in Moffat, a small town 30 miles north of Mosca, for about $60, which includes breakfast the next morning.

No matter what you pay for a chance to see and experience the Great Sand Dunes, it’s all worth it.

Pike's Peak in Colorado

The curvy route to the 14,110-foot apex of Pike’s Peak is 19 miles. Each mile is represented by an animal that lives at that elevation. The animals are pictured on the mile markers. Mark and I bet on what animal would represent the final mile. I take mountain goats and all things similar. Mark goes with small rodents.

The representative for mile 19 is a pika—not a rodent but close. It’s in the same family as hares and rabbits. Mark wins the bet.Snow is on the ground this early September weekend though the warm sun is melting it to mud. At the top, Mark and I hop out and change into hiking boots, which are in the trunk of our rental. Dressed in shorts and sweatshirts, we step lively over to one side of the Peak for a look, scramble past the tourists to the other side, snap some photos and hightail it back to the car. Whew, is it ever cold.

Though Mark won the 19th mile bet, I have other bets I’d rather win. We are on our way to Cripple Creek, Colorado and black jack.

In Cripple Creek we gamble for a couple hours and only lose $10.50 before we head to our stop for the night in Canon City, Colorado in the middle of the state.

The next morning we drive west to Salida to the cemetery to hunt for my great-grandpa’s grave, but the graveyard is so big, we never find it, but I’m glad we stop in Salida. Downtown is north of Route 50 and is the only town for miles around, so if you’re near Salida and mealtime is approaching, stop in.

We fill up our tank and tummies and turn south on 285, which turns to 17, to the alligator farm/fish hatchery. The place is a working hatchery but has become commercialized due to the novelty of alligators in Colorado. Because of the natural springs, the water stays a certain temperature year round, warm enough for alligators. They were originally brought here to eat the fish guts that hatcheries naturally produce.

For $5 apiece Mark and I enter and see snakes, geckos, caimans and alligators. As a money-making ploy, an employee literally shoves a baby alligator at Mark and takes his picture. We don’t buy though.

Outside is a show. An alligator wrangler ropes one of the large reptiles, none of which is eager to participate, and he drags it up to land and sits on its back and demonstrates how to get the mouth open. And some fool people sit on the animal’s back and open its mouth, and their wives or friends take pictures for posterity. I consider myself a risk taker, but no, thank you.

After our fill of the fishery, we aim south toward Mosca and the Great Sand Dunes National Monument, one of 10 National Parks we plan to visit this trip.

The dunes appear out of nothing and nowhere. They are one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen in the way of scenery. These are so much more than the Sleeping Bear Sand Dunes in Michigan. Those dunes are nice yet spread out while the Great Sand Dunes in Mosca, Colorado are enormous dune upon dune upon dune upon dune.

I have so much to say about them, I don’t have room here. Check next column for the follow up.