Of dunes and diversions

Shores of Medano Creek, Great Sand Dunes NP

The Rockies disappear quickly after Colorado Springs, resurfacing around Pueblo with a fresh round of snow-capped 14’ers. Walsenburg felt as German as its name, not out of place in the Alps. Nearby rise the Spanish Peaks, a pair of roughly conical mountains, then climbs toward North La Veta Pass, a rerouting of the original pass that eliminated the sharp turns on the original auto road. Entering the San Luis Valley was a slow climb and similar descent.

Down from North La Veta Pass, Fort Garland and Blanca whizzed by, but the latter’s namesake mountain did not. Mount Blanca is Colorado’s fourth-tallest mountain and the tallest in the Sangre de Cristo range. The mountain is also quiet prominent rising abruptly from the valley floor. It’s also a sacred mountain of the east to the Navajo people, for whom it marked the edge of their territory.

Spanish Peaks, outside Walsenburg

San Luis Valley is prototypical western valley, dozens of miles wide and hemmed by white-crowned ridges, many above 14,000 feet.

There were few trees in the valley, mostly cottonwoods close to riparian zones, including the Rio Grande, which has nearby headwaters. The arid character is deceptive, as the valley is a center for agricultural due to the Rio Grande and groundwater resources.

Wedged into the northeast corner of the valley lies a feature much smaller than the mountains but just as curious. From the turn on the spur road, the Great Sand Dunes were visible 16 miles away, a roll of sand on the valley floor. The Sangria de Christo Mountains were capped with snow.

Mt. Blance and my rental car

A combination of erosion, winter runoff and an blocked corner of the valley gave the Great Sand Dunes room to rise. The dunes formed through a similar method to White Sands National Monument. Wind erodes the mountains on the valley’s far side and carries the particles to the mountains on the east side, where water runoff deposits the sand at the mountain’s base. After a many millennia, those grains of sand formed North America’s highest dunes.

From the monument sign announcing the park border, the dunes’ irregular water feature was flowing strongly. Snowpack in the mountains fuels the flow of Medano Creek, and this year snowpack has run more than 100 percent of normal. The normal trickle had grown into a strong creek. The snows provided a steady flow, with riffles and waves that make the creek appear a more dangerous crossing.

Hikers on the dunes

I shed my shoes and socks rapidly and started off into the creek. I should not have worried about the waves – the water moved, but in most places was barely deep enough to cover my feet. The water was cold and felt as if my feet should be numb, but they weren’t. For an hour after the walk through the creek, my feet still felt softened by the massaging waters. Nearby a little girl screamed and splashed in the water. I badly wanted to do the same.

Distant dots of people crossed up the pathless dune field. The highest point, Star Dune, runs more than 700 feet high and requires a 5.5-hour roundtrip. I had no hat or suntan lotion (as my crimson face would remind me later that evening), nor any company for climbing up the ridges. Besides, I would rather return with a sand sled.

Impending dunes

 I scoped out the campground and had a moment with a trio of female mule deer grazing in the scrubby plain across from the dunes. Most of the park is wilderness, extending deep into the mountains, and the alpine environment supports dozens of species. The SLV has extensive parks and wildlife refuges due to migratory birds, especially sandhill cranes. Any thought of hitting other SLV outdoor highlights in day evaporated in the dry air and beating sun. 

Up the road sat Alamosa, biggest town in the valley and the county seat. It bustled on late Friday morning as people crisscrossed the valley. The town was dusty and western, with two primary streets running in one direction and the railroad tracks dividing much of the town whenever a trail courses through. It reminded me of Alpine, Texas.

The first stop was mandatory. Behind the city buildings and library was a path to the Rio Grande River. So controversial in its role as the border between Texas and Mexico, the river flows innocuously through cottonwood groves on its banks.

I stopped at the San Luis Valley Brewing Company for a cup of cowboy chili and a beer to match, SLVBC’s Valle Caliente green chile lager, which infuses hatch chiles and makes for a tasty lager that radiates assertive pepper heat. Local ingredients make the best beer, and these chiles were from the SLV. The brewpub blended old and new seamlessly, and I wish I was close enough to try more of their selections. They also deserve points for printing up their menus to resemble old frontier newspapers.

The valley does not leave itself behind quickly. For a good 40 miles, I could still see the monolithic dunes at the mountains’ base, as the route out of the valley stayed flat. Once it rose into mountains again, more massive 14’ers dominated the landscape. Like Pikes Peak, they all had significant snow cover above their treelines, signs of a robust winter and the unlikelihood of early summer hikes atop the Rockies.

Poncha Pass separates the SLV from the Arkansas River Valley, where rafting enthusiasts tackle the river that runs through Wichita, Tulsa, Little Rock and eventually the Mississippi River.

Rio Grande in Alamosa

I never saw Salida or Buena Vista, just the outskirts where the signs beckoned me back to Colorado Springs. Other signs called me – Leadville, Fairplay, Breckenridge – and I can answer them on future drives. After Hartsel, the terrain became familiar. I charged back through South Park, up Wilkerson Pass and its closed visitor center, only to run into a train of cars led by the type of driver who should avoid windy roads.

At the bottom of Ute Pass, Pikes Peak showed itself clearly for the first time all week. I found myself refreshed by the route through the mountains. Over the years, I have taken scenic routes that have not reached their billing. In Colorado, the scenic route was well-maintained and full of moments I still haven’t unpacked, although I can replay whenever a craving for the high country snares me.

Mount Antero near Buena Vista