COLORADO
Deceptive diversity in the Great Sand Dunes
Posted on Sun, Jul. 06, 2008
BY ALLEN HOLDER
McClatchy News Service
A hiker makes his way along the dunes as the sun sets over Great Sand Dunes National Park and Preserve.
Their appearance was exactly that of a sea in storm, except as to color, not the least sign of vegetation existing thereon.
-- Zebulon Pike, the first American to record his impressions of the Great Sand Dunes, 1807
GREAT SAND DUNES NATIONAL PARK, Colo. -- Chh . . . chh . . . chh.
I listened carefully as my tennis shoes dug into the shifting sand. It was the only sound I heard on a soft summer morning. Chh . . . chh . . . chh.
Around me, a canvas of uninterrupted beige stretched for miles, a sea of sand that rose hundreds of feet into the air and met a brilliant blue sky. And I had it all to myself.
Almost.
Far ahead I could see two other hikers, using their hands and feet as they scrambled toward the top of the next dune. Otherwise I was absolutely alone, surrounded by 30 square miles of sand dunes, the tallest in North America.
So where was everybody else? Didn't they know? Hadn't they heard?
Although the sun hadn't yet burned much heat into the dunes, park rangers warned it would. The dunes can reach temperatures of 140 degrees in summer. So morning, especially in summer, is prime time for exploring Great Sand Dunes National Park, about 240 miles southwest of Denver. There are castles to build in the wet, spongy sand along Medano Creek. Tiny footprints to decipher -- beetles? kangaroo rats? -- where the drier ground grows softer and steeper. Sand to roll down, slide down, even ski down. And always, sand dunes to climb.
Chh . . . chh . . . chh.
The dunes can be deceptive.
What seems at first like a monochromatic landscape becomes on closer inspection a mosaic of color, flecked with dark brown, gray, black, silver, white and even clear grains of sand.
Likewise, the land that might seem inhospitable to life is teeming with it. About 20 varieties of plants, including sunflowers and grasses, grow in the sand. At least seven species of insects -- tiger beetles, circus beetles, crickets and moths, among them -- exist only in these dunes. Kangaroo rats live their entire lives here, hunted by weasels, bobcats and coyotes that arrive from surrounding areas after dark.
The sand blows -- sometimes violently -- and creates new patterns and ridges. It is carried by streams and moved by erosion.
As I trudged toward my destination, I looked at my newly created footsteps and the hundreds, thousands of others that spread out before me, wondering, ``How long have these been here? How long will my footprints remain? A day? A week?''
GONE WITH THE WIND
One day's patterns can be gone with the wind the next, yet the tallest dunes are remarkably stable. The National Park Service compared a photograph taken in 1874 with one from 1999 and found that, visually, the dunes hadn't changed much.
But 133 years is nothing. The dunes formed thousands of years ago when an ancient lake disappeared in the San Luis Valley, nestled between the San Juan and Sangre de Cristo mountain ranges. Opposing wind patterns carved the remaining sand deposits into the dunes. They still do.
Kayla Blackburn of Aurora, Colo., and her friend Jennie Correa of Newark, N.J., bent over a spigot in the dunes parking lot, spraying dirty dishes. Blackburn's dog, a Lab mix named Malcolm, waited impatiently in the front seat of her SUV.
''I try to come here every year,'' said Blackburn, who works as a school bus driver in Aurora and studies occupational therapy in Denver. ``I love it. It's so different.''
The two womenhad spent two days exploring the park and camping in the park's back-country, accessible only to hikers or drivers with four-wheel drive vehicles.
A big draw is the area around Medano Creek, which becomes a playground in the spring and early summer when the water is a little deeper and widespread than it was in July.
Kids bring buckets and shovels and adults splash in the shallow surf.
`PRETTY AMAZING'
Although the dunes are the centerpiece of the park, the area around Medano Creek is a good example of the diversity in the landscape. Visitors can explore wetlands and grasslands. Toward the Sangre de Cristo Mountains, forest trails wind through aspens and firs and alpine trails reach above timberline. Hikers may find pronghorn, bighorn sheep, elk, buffalo, even black bears.
Birds and plants were the order of the day on a hike ranger Paul Yoder was leading called ``Bird and Tree Business.''
''I think this is a pretty amazing place because the mountains are so precipitous,'' he said. ``The life zone here is amazing.''
First by whistling, then by using a small recorder he called to the birds along the trail. They responded again and again.
''I choose little birds so not to scare them,'' he said. ``If I choose a red-tailed hawk, we wouldn't hear or see anything. The rule of bird calling is, you always play or call something smaller than what you want to see.''
Just as the solid brown sand had become a collection of distinct colors, the noise in the woods was becoming a symphony of songs played by individual birds. Not that I could identify any of them. That's why Yoder was here.
''I thought I heard a hermit thrush,'' he said, then whistled.
``Yeah, he's calling back. Do you hear that?''
EXPLORING THE DUNES
It was 8 a.m. by the time I crossed what was left of Medano Creek and got serious about exploring the dunes, and I wasn't really sure what to expect. Rangers had told me that High Dune is about a two-hour hike round-trip. From there, Star Dune, which at 750 feet is the highest dune, is another mile and a half away.
No trails lead to or through the dunes, but the commanding views from the top make it difficult to get lost. The only path is made by the footsteps that have preceded yours. Good luck following them.
As the dark, moisture-packed sand beyond the creek gave way to softer, steeper sand, my pace slowed. I learned quickly to seek out any evidence of water because the sand would be harder-packed there, making it easier to walk.
Otherwise, it was baby steps -- digging in, sliding back a little, with each step.
By the time I reached the top of the first big dune, I had a decision to make. Which ridge to follow? By this point, the footprints had disappeared, no doubt erased by the wind.
The hikers I had seen from a distance below were now a little closer, and I tried to gauge the route they might have taken. But when their strides slowed and they began crawling uphill, I decided they might not be my best guides. I picked what appeared to be the path of least resistance and continued ahead.
Landmarks are not so obvious in the dunes but about an hour into the hike it was pretty obvious I had reached 650-foot High Dune.
I continued up. I walked down. I balanced on top of ridges, peering across at large fields of sand marred by no footprints. What I really wanted to do was take off my shoes and feel the warm sand between my toes. Or hold my arms close, lie on my back and roll down the dunes. Hey, nobody was watching.
Instead, I listened to the silence, and the chhh . . . chhh . . . chhh of my footsteps. I took in the landscape. I walked some more, then headed back toward Medano Creek.
If only I'd brought a shovel and pail.
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