Blowin' In The Wind
I don’t always know what I’m doing. I’m winging it a lot and on purpose. I like to be surprised. And that’s how I stumble upon these unique locations. I take the chance to be disappointed. When I was packing my vehicle, there was no way I could anticipate what kind of adventure I was looking for. I brought everything. Car camping to backpacking to everything in between. I somehow ended up in between.
Don’t always be a rule follower. Disobey with purpose.
On the drive, I was telling myself to keep it easy. This was a scouting trip for a future workshop with a goal to find an easier route into the heart of the dunes. Something that didn’t start from the visitor center. Something that felt remote and untouched. I had some ideas in mind. When I saw the “Campground Full” sign, I turned into the next available pull-out to put together some thoughts. I have stopped here quite a few times in the past. It’s a popular scene with photographers even though I’d guesstimate the vast majority of folks fly by it to get to the official park entrance. I love the angle myself but have never bothered to shoot it. I’ve seen boatloads of fantastic images. But what bothers me is that it sits right next to the road. Not my cup of tea. Not my version of the wild. Not what comes to mind when I drove four hours to get away from it all. The last couple of times, I have had this inkling to simply start hiking in from there. Maybe find that alternative entrance point. So I did. A couple of hours before sunset, I got out and immediately started prepping myself to spend a night in the dunes. With the other nearby campgrounds not appealing to me for one reason or another, I packed enough food and water for a full day. I strapped on my sleeping bag. No tent. I was gonna scout around, enjoy the stars, and then hope to be conveniently in place for sunrise the next day.
The Great Sand Dunes are something else. They take your breath away. They stun. They also sting. A trip in can be brutal. As I tucked myself into my bag for the evening, I noticed the dark clouds weren’t going away. They were multiplying. I remember saying to myself, “That doesn’t look good.” True that. Maybe an hour later the wind picked up. It got a little crazy and since I was steps below one of higher dunes in the park, it became nearly unbearable. I was getting sandblasted to the face. But I was a touch too cozy dozy to want to move and I still had dreams of sleeping under the stars on a warm, clear, and calm evening. I covered up as much as possible, pulled my gear closer, and held onto these comforting thoughts for another hour or so.
Then I heard something other than sand hitting me: rain. “That’s not good.” Ain’t that the truth. I knew I was taking my chances from the start because in no way was I headed back to my car from here. It was late into the night. It was pitch black and I was deep into the dunes - a good three or four miles back. Regardless, it was the kick in the pants that I needed to make a move. Without my tent and the creature comforts that usually come along with it, I was pretty nimble. I had no intention of getting out of my bag, so I unzipped the lower portion, put my bare feet into the sand, and moseyed my way downhill with the rest of my gear in tow. I kept going down, down, down until I could go no further without heading back up first. I ended up in some kind of toilet bowl in the middle of the dunes. I lost nearly all of the wind and the rain dissipated quickly. Catching a break, I peacefully caught some Z’s that night.
Feeling rested, I woke up mere hours later. In the predawn light, I poked my little head up and out of the litter box to restart my exploring. I honestly thought I’d spend a solid half day out there. I ended up clocking in at 18+ hours. Blame it on a fantastic ridge during the adventure back that kept blowing me away the further along it I went. I shot until my camera started misfiring around noon. Too much sand clogging up one or two buttons. After countless more stunning scenes and light, along with much needed rest stops with drop dead gorgeous views, I was done. Upon returning to my car, I went ahead and found a proper campground to rest up and go back for seconds the next morning.
Need a quiet area to car camp near the National Park when the main campground is full? Check out the Mosca Campground within the San Luis State Wildlife Area. It’s a whole other spot to explore with lakes and unique views. Camping is free of charge once you pick up an annual Colorado State Fishing License over at the Mosca Pit Stop: a gas station and more just 15 minutes away. The license cost me $45 and pays for itself if you stay two or more nights. Or if you’re like me and already planning your next adventure into the dunes, it’s the steal of the year.
Speaking of your next adventure, browse my workshop offerings here, which depending on the year may include an “easier but not really” Great Sand Dunes photography tour scheduled during the heat of summer. If you don’t see it, consider building the adventure of a lifetime with some private instruction. It’ll certainly be a heck of a lot less strenuous than my first go on this route. I went up and down and all around way more than I needed to. Now I know my favorite spots. Highlights galore. Untouched sand. Sunflowers(!). You might still hate me at times, but one thing is for sure: we’ll have a blast.