GREAT SAND DUNES NATIONAL PARK
Tuesday, Sept 22
We are lucky that our internal clocks are still on Eastern Standard Time, since we're awake by 5:30 to look out and see the dunes glowing pure white like bone china, the mountains dark behind them. Realizing that this phenomenon will not survive the rising sun we grab our cameras and head down to the road to get an unobstructed view. The sun is already peeking over the Sangre de Cristos and lighting the valley, and as it creeps toward the western end of the dunes the cold white turns to frosty ochre. The mountain's shadow contracts and the highest dunes reflect the pale morning sun with rosy glow.
It's chilly so we keep moving while we watch and I turn to the east to scan the plains. A few hundred yards off I see a pair of elk, shy of us despite their distance.
We
stay until the dunes are almost fully lit then return to
the apartment for breakfast before heading down to the Visitor's
Center to check the forecast. It predicts a chilly, windy
day, so a hike to Revelation Point seems like a good way
to take advantage of cool climbing temperatures without
the danger of sandblasting. Also called "Little Baldy",
Revelation Point is grassy knob on the slope of the mountain
across from the Visitor's Center. From there we will be
able to see the entire dune field.
We cross the road and walk through blond grasses and into
a magical stand of aspen, golden with fall color. A fire
in 2000 wiped the slope clean so this gang of aspen are
all 9-year olds. But that doesn't explain why their lowest
branches begin in a perfect horizontal line about 6 feet
from the ground. We soon see the reason, half a dozen resident
deer, only bothered enough by our appearance to bounce over
to a more distant area, begin nipping the lowest leaves
as far as their necks can stretch. We emerge as the path
winds though large patches of rabbit bush, and we continue
through waist-high fuzzy yellowness. A sign by the trail
warns of the danger of the weathered totems of fire-killed
trees falling over in windy weather, but I'm more careful
not to step on the huge ant hills that could almost be mistaken
for small cairns along the trail.
Soon we come to a gravel road, which services the barn for the park's 3 horses, and two large water tanks. As we skirt a utility shed to rejoin the trail a small shriek and scramble at our feet makes us jump as a chipmunk escapes underneath.
The trail grows more wooded as we ascend, passing though widely spaced and bushy pinion pine, opaque areas of juniper trees with a bare and brittle under story, then cool stands of impressive ponderosa pines. Along the trail are signs of past habitation, rusting cans, squared off rocks and odd excavated sites. A steep slope bulging with lichen-covered rock outcroppings begins to rise up behind the trees on our left. It's alive with the squawking of dozens of birds and is soon joined by another slope on the right as we begin to follow Morris Gulch and climb above it up the mountain. I'm keeping my eye out for an old gold-prospecting mine that I've read is on this trail, so when I spot a fan of talus stone I climb to investigate and find the tunnel it was excavated from. It looks too small, dark and claustrophobic for anyone to dare to enter but the lure of gold was strong in the 1920s and signs of it's pursuit are found all over these mountains. No gold worth the price of excavating was found.
It's around this area that I begin to notice the bones. The first set is right on the edge of the trail, jawbones and broken ribs, not quite weathered yet. I wonder what killed this deer. I'm thinking mountain loin, but it could be bear. Either way, I'm glad it's not a fresher kill. Now on the lookout, I see several more flashes of white in the woods and take photos, maybe for a painting.
The trail continues to steepen, but it wouldn't normally be a strenuous hike to the summit at 9,500 feet — after all, we had an 8,000 foot head start. But oxygen is in short supply so I stop often to catch my breath and look for the trail, now getting more vague. It gives me a chance to look across the gulch to Carbonate mountain which was dusted with snow overnight and has the appearance of etched glass. Lower on the slopes are bright yellow steaks of golden aspen slashing through the pines.
Our route has taken us around the mountain and as we climb the landscape opens up to wiry blue-green grasses, rock and cactus The trail has now completely faded and the brittle brush crunches under our feet. Our destination is just above, where the grass meets the sky. There we get a wide open view back in the direction of the trailhead. The Visitor's Center, the housing area, the barn buildings and the narrow ribbon of road all lay below in the fringe of trees that spills from the base of the mountain. To our right, the Sangre de Cristos curve around and darken to indigo. Beyond them to the north and wrapping west, completing the circle and enclosing the flat San Luis Valley, are a far-off rim of pale blue mountain ranges. And in the middle of it all, the strangest sight ...a vast stormy sea cast in sand.
TO BE CONTINUED...
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