Great Sand Dunes

THE SANDS OF TIME

(Great Sand Dunes - Park #33)

Until a few months ago, I did not even know that Great Sand Dunes was a National Park. For years it sat relegated as a National Monument; a hidden gem in Southern Colorado that was nothing more than a side trip for people on their way to Denver or one of the numerous mountain ski towns. It was not until 2004, its inauguration year, when it became a National Park and Preserve that more people began to take notice. It is the same story that has been told for years and one that has recently found its place in the headlines of major publications. Is granting a Monument or Recreation Area National Park 'status' the best option to protect it? Are we doing more damage than good by elevating a parks status and nearly doubling the parks visitation overnight?

Contrary to popular belief, I would have to say "yes". With National Park designation comes the inevitable truth that there will be increased visitation, increased impact on the land and a bevy of other negative outcomes that are paired with this anointing. But, it also means that more people will take notice and be able to experience another one of our vast wonders. Our greatest asset as a country is our land. Luckily we learned this early in our countries growth and began protecting these national treasures and setting them aside, ensuring that future generations would be able to experience them as they were hundreds of years earlier.

(Great Sand Dunes NP)

Great Sand Dunes is the newest member of the Nation Park "club" and my 33rd National Park. Like many of the other parks I visited on this trip, the parking lots were filled with gas guzzling RV's, the main attraction - North America's tallest sand dune - was choked with people trying to reach the summit, and the refreshingly cool waters of Medano Creek were overflowing with families all trying to hoard a portion of the run off as if they were staking their claim on the Western frontier. And just like every other park, I went as far off the beaten path as I could in search of solitude and first tracks up the mighty dunes.

I hopped over Medano Creek and followed the dunes North for three quarters of a mile, away from the swarms of people, before splitting off and heading up a serpentine line to the top of a virgin dune. As I crested the top I was awarded with a view of the 19,000 acres of neighboring dunes. It was then that I began to put this park into perspective. Just like Congaree, I went into this experience with little hope of finding anything spectacular, but was completely moved once I got there. I spent the rest of the morning climbing up and down the dunes, traveling deeper into the heart of the park and soaking up the serenity that it afforded. I laid first tracks everywhere I went and took solace in knowing that by morning my tracks would vanish in the wind as so many before me had.

(First Tracks in Great Sand Dunes NP)

I finished the day with a trip up to the top of Star Dune. At 750 feet it is the tallest dune in North America and from the looks of it, too much for some hikers to summit. On my decent I picked-up two arm fulls of littered cardboard scraps and plastic bags that were apparently abandoned after failed attempts to surf the dunes immense faces. It always amazes me that people think that it is okay to leave behind their garbage for others; be it culture, ignorance, or just plain laziness it is the one blaring black eye of heavily visited parks. The worst part is there are very few people that are willing to do something about it. I think most people have the impression that the park staff will clean-up everything before the next round of visitors come in. The reality is that our parks are a gift and it is everyone's responsibility to ensure that the view or expereince that we had can be afforded to the next generation; unchanged and unharmed.

I finished my trip at Great Sand Dunes with a quick outdoor shower, removing enough sand to fill my son's sandbox, before jumping back in the car. I am now on the homestretch. The plan is to sleep just outside the East Entrance to Grand Canyon NP in Arizona tonight before eventually making the final trek back home.

Until Tomorrow.

To the Summit

AS HIGH AS YOU CAN GET

(Mt Sherman Summit Ridge)

At 10,430 feet and home to the Mining Hall of Fame, Leadville, CO is the highest incorporated city in America and our jumping off point on our way to the Mt Sherman trail head. Colorado's 45th highest peak was our goal for the morning and if successful it would be the first fourteener for all my hiking companions. I joined Michael, Taylor and Kathy, Michael's mother, on a bluebird sky morning up the two-mile trail that lead almost directly to the summit. The scree strewn trail featured a handful of switchbacks towards the middle of the climb which created mild relief and an opportunity for each of us to lay bent over, in an attempt to catch our breath.

(Lunch at the Mt Sherman Saddle)

At a little over two miles in length this hike pails in comparison to other fourteeners in Colorado, but the thin mountain air can quickly dehydrate the body and limit the flow of blood to the muscles making it seem 10 times further than it really is. We stopped half way-up to dine on PB&J sandwiches and granola bars before making our final summit push. Along the way we passed a handful of other hikers, most with dogs which required us to try and heard our overly adventurous pack of three purebred poodles and one lone Austrailian Shepard. We required a wide birth as we inched closer to the top and luckily we never had to break-up any squabbles between rival dog gangs, I do not think any of us would have had the energy.

(The Summit is in Sight)

After two miles and nearly 2,000 feet of elevation gain we topped out on the Mosquito Range's 5th highest peak; Mt Sherman 14,036 ft. There is definitely a sense of reward when you reach the top of any mountain, but there is a little bit more satisfaction when you can summit something over 14,000 feet. This was my second fourteener and I would love to one day climb them all - maybe I can focus on this after I finish my National Park quest.

(Mt Sherman Summit 14,036 ft)

On top we snapped a team photo, including our dog pack, before retreating back down trail to the comfort of our car. The hard pounding of the rock laden trail beat-up everyone, including our four legged friends who all passed out for the full length of our nearly two hour drive back to Edwards, it was the quietest I had ever heard them.

Back at home we vegged out on the sofa and watched a bevy of movies before munching on some award winning Chinese food. I tried to fight sleep so that I could squeeze every last minute out of my time with Michael and Taylor. Shortly before 10:30 pm I gave up the battle and caved into the Sandman's relenting pull and slipped off to bed. My trip was closing in on its end and I want to be sure that I am maximizing the remaining hours I have before returning to Vegas.

Until Tomorrow.

Rocky Mountain High

TAP THE ROCKIES

(Rocky Mountain Wild Flowers)

I met Michael Brownlee in 8th grade; we both attended Taylor Road Middle School in the suburban town of Alpharetta, GA. I could tell immediately that we would be friends for life. Even though we had different interests we immediately built a bond around our love of the outdoors and a passion for all things "Chattahoochee" (our high school). Throughout high school we pledged our loyalty to Hooch Athletics and became legendary Super Fans, attending at least one of every sporting event that the school had to offer. From our Sophomore to Senior year I think we only missed one football game (home or away). We tailgated before every home pigskin classic and became notorious hecklers, reeking havoc on opposing teams at every one of our home basketball games.

Michael was the first person to actually get me to listen to country music (Charlie Daniels - The Devil Went Down to Georgia), he taught me how to net bait fish in the shallows, throw a fly-line, shotgun a beer and pushed me off my first black diamond ski run. He was there when I got married and was one of the first calls when my son was born. He is one of my closest friends and someone that I wouldn't think twice about driving an extra 800 miles to see.

When I arrived in Edwards I was greeted by a 8 lb side of beef, cold beer and open arms. Michael and his wife, Taylor, had been preparing a feast for my arrival. I felt like the protical son arriving home after a long journey - it was one of the warmest arrivals I had received all trip. I gored myself as I consumed more meat than I had eaten in the past five years and shared stories from my travels across Kansas and Rocky Mountain NP. Before the end of the meal we had set an agenda for the following days that included a day of fly-fishing on the Eagle River, a trip to Moe's BBQ and a summit attempt at Mt Sherman, a +14,000 foot peak about an hour from his house. I was in heaven.

(Early Morning Hike)

The next morning we awoke to clear blue skies and ventured off on an "acclimation" hike up to 8,000 feet on a trail you can access just behind his house. This roller coaster pattern hill side is the perfect way to get in shape and apparently is a part of Michael and Taylor's daily routine. The last leg of the hike offers unparalleled panoramic views of the valley, but to be honest, my mind was elsewhere during the hike knowing full well that in three hours I would be consuming one of America's most coveted sandwiches, Moe's Pulled Pork BBQ.

After the hike we descended back to the house for a short rest before heading into to town to pick-up a pair of waders and gather valuable insight on the best fly pattern to throw in the Eagle River. We debated nymphs vs. terrestrials and departed feeling confident about what lie ahead. After the fly shop we made a bee-line for Moe's where I once again gored myself, this time on pulled pork, cole slaw and banana pudding. I even grabbed a sandwich for the road knowing full well that I would be craving one on the river later.

(Brownlee Double-haul'n on the Eagle)

We spent the rest of the day fording the Eagle and double-hauling our fly-line in search of rainbow trout all the while reminiscing about old times and trying to piece together stories from high school. By the end of our day we had each landed a fish or two but never netted them so our tale of the tape will forever be a mystery, just the way I like it. Back at home we dined on a gourmet meal of double stuffed potatoes and the hind quarters of what appeared to be one of the largest cows that ever lived. With nausea setting in from my triumphant victory over the beef I slipped off to bed with the anticipation of climbing a 14k foot mountain in the morning.

Until Tomorrow.

We're Not in Kansas Anymore

ROCKY MOUNTAIN HIGH

With over 300 named mountain ranges and the most number of peaks over 10,000 feet, Nevada is the countries most mountainous state. You would probably demand a recount after visiting Colorado. Once you hit Denver and the Front Range, there is no denying that the Rocky Mountains dominate this states landscape. With 56 peaks over 14,000 feet and the backbone of the Continental Divide running down the center of the state, Colorado is the hands down favorite to be crowned "The Mountain State". They even have a John Denver song in their honor for goodness sake.

My first stop in Rocky Mountain country was the idealistic town of Boulder. For all intensive purposes Boulder is America's most "perfect" city. Clean air, great schools, endless access to a variety of outdoor activities just out your backdoor and the greatest concentration of fit people per capita in the world. The only problem that I have with Boulder is that it is so perfect that it almost seems fake. Not the facade or the amenities, but the people. I feel like for every true triathlete, mountain biker, rock climber or trail runner there are 50 wannabees. You know, the people who buy a bike rack for their car just because everyone else has one or the people that wear a Gore-Tex jacket because it matches their shoes, not because it will keep them safe from the elements. It just kind of bugs me. Even their society of down-and-outs (bums) were relatively clean - they even smelled better than me.

After departing the fantasy world of Boulder I headed to Estes Park, gateway to Rocky Mountain National Park. This would be my first true visit to the park. My last visit seven years ago was cut short due to road closures and I have been eagerly awaiting the return trip. I have heard that Rocky Mountain is one of the most amazing National Parks and that the drive up and over the Continental Divide is one of the most memorable drives that you will ever do.

(Rocky Mounatin National Park)

I arrived at the park around 11 am and planned on doing a trail run in the Bear Lake region. I parked at the shuttle stop and was bussed up to the Bear Lake Trail Head where my goal was to link together an 8 mile trail run that would finish-up at the Fern Lake Trail Head just in time to grab the shuttle back to my car. For the most part the trail was all downhill and passed scenic vistas filled with retreating snowfields, pristine mountain lakes and bloated creeks filled with late summer snow melt. The trail was rocky and narrow, but slowing down was not an option. The air was filled with swarms of mosquitoes and anything short of a brisk walk would risk suffocation from the swarms, so I ran the full 8 miles, stopping only to let the occasional hiker pass in the opposite direction.

(Rocky Mountain National Park - Forest Canyon)

Back at the car I rested my sore legs and took an all too familiar "cooler shower", one that involves dumping water into the cooler and then opening it up on my head to hopefully wash away some of the foul smell that has attached itself to me. For those of you that find yourself traveling for long periods of time without access to a proper shower, take this advice. You will always "feel" clean if you can be sure to keep your teeth brushed, hair washed and nether regions dry. I have traveled extensively and have found that a clean mouth, head and buttock region can keep your moral high when all else looks bleak. (There's your free travel advice for the day)

(Scenic view from Colorado 2 - "The Ultimate Back Road")

On the way out of the park I took highway 34 over the Continental Divide and exited through the West Gate and into the heart of the Colorado River headwaters, an area so beautiful that it topped my list of the most scenic places on my trip. Colorado 2, better known as the "Trough Road" was my route to happiness and the ultimate back road. A mixture of dirt, gravel and spotty pavement, it forces the driver to slow down and appreciate the scenery that includes numerous high mountain passes and rustic bridges that cross the narrow banks of the Colorado.

My destination for the day is the small town of Edwards, CO - home to one of the greatest guys in the whole world and one of my best friends, Michael Brownlee. From what I hear he has a full agenda planned so I am excited to get there and finish my trip off with a gammet of outdoor adventures.

Until Tomorrow.

The Open Road

CORN ANYONE?

(The Perfect Kansas Back Road)

Of the 50 states I think Kansas gets the worst wrap when it comes to topography. Everyone always says it is flat, boring and filled with nothing more than rows of corn. These are all true statements, but there is something intriguing about Kansas that I think the average person misses.

Seven years ago I traveled I-70 on my way out to Vegas in the dead of winter. By the time I reached Kansas it was cold, overcast and everything was harvested and covered in a thin layer of snow. I had gone into this trip with a negative premonition on our 15th state based on what everyone had told me, but to be honest, it was not as bad as people made it out to be. Eastern Kansas was filled with rolling hills, quaint farm towns and one of the coolest college campuses I had ever visited; Lawrence, KS home of the University of Kansas. The sky was open and free from power lines and the people were warm and friendly. I ended up spending the night in Lawrence and toured the campus extensively. I was so impressed that had I visited years earlier, I may have selected it as my school of choice.

Now, seven years later I was eager to revisit Lawrence and see the rest of Kansas - this time in the summer. My journey along I-70 was short lived as I split off onto side roads in search America's heartland at work. I revisited Lawrence and spent the morning walking up and down main street and taking in one of their infamous sidewalk sales. I perused the hundreds of vendors before retreating to the car and venturing north to Manhattan and visiting in-state rival Kansas State. I was surprised to find a university that rivaled the beauty and panache of Virgina Tech. Their limestone buildings and expansive open space made me do a double take and make sure I hadn't ventured back to Blacksburg. To top off their premier college atmosphere their near perfectly planned downtown offered up one of the best BBQ sandwiches of the trip; Pat's Blue Ribbon BBQ.

(Kansas Sunflower Field at Sunset)

Fat and happy I departed Manhattan and pointed the car West towards Boulder, CO, my destination for the night. Along the way I stopped to photograph the Kansas sunset before watching the farmers return from harvesting their summer wheat. Kansas is a special place and one that deserves the credit it is due.

Until Tomorrow.