Sandboarding The Dunes.
May 13, 2017, marked four months on the road. Fun fact, I left on Friday the 13th. Not sure if I ever told you all that. It sure makes it easy to remember my roadtrip-iversary every month having such a unique date. A very, very small part of me can’t believe I’ve made it this long but the rest of me always knew I could do it. When I tell people I am traveling solo, a lot will tell me how brave I am doing it alone and how they wish they could but don’t think they would. Well, thank you to anyone who has ever said that to me, it’s flattering, but also sort of bums me out. That means that they aren’t pursuing something they really want to do because they’re waiting for someone to do it with them, which quite honestly, sucks. If I did that, I’d be, what day is today? Monday? I’d be on my way to work on the same subway car I took every day with the same people I’d seen time and time again. There's nothing wrong with that but New York burnt me out, so I am very happy that’s not me right now. Instead, I’m getting ready to start my day in Colorado Springs and do a bit of hiking and exploring. I’m rambling, I know, but I’m allowed. That is why you’re all here anyway, to read my thoughts and hopefully take my advice in seeing certain places I’ve mentioned. Fingers crossed for that second part. There’s so many beautiful places in this country that everyone should take a break and see, even if it’s just for a day and not four months.
Organic farming, I can confidently say, is something I don’t think I’d dabble in seriously, although it is really interesting to learn about. In Taos, New Mexico, I couch surfed with a very talented painter who is also, oddly enough, an organic farmer. I even got to stay in my own camper complete with a fat and snuggly cat with so much sass you cannot even imagine. I de-seeded winter squash, potted and replanted them, all the while listening to Howard Stern inappropriately chatting in the background. My kind of farming, I must say. It was fun staying with a fellow artist and getting to see his work and inspiration, getting a bit inspired myself. Taos, locally nicknamed "the bastard cousin of Sante Fe," is a really cool place which I actually liked a bit more than its relative. Similarly, there are art galleries and little shops up and down the streets, but the town has more a of local flavor. The store fronts are painted bright, fun colors that pop and scream inviting. The plaza is made up of adobe buildings with everything from antiques, to jewelry, to native american shops with peace pipes. I chuckled at my own question when I asked the man behind the front desk, “so, what can you smoke out of here?” By the way, I was holding up easily a six inch long, wooden pipe with an orange, clay bowl at the end and a long feather added for extra detail. In case you’re wondering, the answer he gave me was "anything and everything." I explored downtown some more to find what I thought was a random back alley but was actually the popular Bent Alley that looped from the plaza, out, and back around, sporting more small art shops and lush gardens. I wandered into a gallery that a woman named Annie was running and I could tell immediately that she really loved living in Taos. Her eyes lit up with excitement as she told me all about her favorite place to go underneath the Taos Gorge and the wooden bridge that would be worth the gravel drive and many switchbacks up the side of a mountain to get there. She was right, the best part was actually the switchbacks and the overview of the Rio Grande below, new with each turn as Bertha and I climbed higher and higher. The Taos Gorge, the seventh highest bridge in the United States, is another must see I can't believe I almost forgot about. Technically, it’s the Rio Grande Gorge Bridge, it’s a little bit northwest of downtown and it is a very unique spot. Driving out there in the freezing rain and hail that came down of nowhere, I kept thinking about how foggy it was and how I’d never be able to see the gorge. Boy, was I wrong. The world opened up underneath me almost abruptly as I drove across the bridge. Glancing to my right, I couldn't stop staring as I took in the enormous crack in the landscape and how far it extended. By the time I dug my winter coat out of my cargo box on my roof, I was already soaked and freezing, probably not the best time to see the gorge, albeit a memorable one. The wind howled as I walked along the sidewalk out to the center of the bridge, the vastness somehow looking even more intriguing in the thick fog. If only there was a way to see it from above, I thought, I'd love to find out just how far it extends.
Colorado was my next stop and I was ready to get out of New Mexico. Not that I didn’t enjoy the state, I actually liked it a lot more than I thought I would. The weather there is crazy and unpredictable, you read how there was hail in May, right? The number of beautiful scenic places in the state is unimaginable, I feel like I barely made a dent. Oh well, more to see some other time. Onward to new places I went. Driving into Colorado, I admired how the landscape faded from green to lavender and yellow to purple and ended on a clear blue sky. Every turn left me in awe as the purple mountains majestically painted the background of the distant horizon, the clouds above leaving perfect shadows on the scenery below. Passing my first dispensary and a “Wake and Bake," open twenty four hours, all within ten minutes of being in the state, I arrived in Alamosa, Colorado. A small town just north of the state line in the San Luis Valley, it's claim to fame is being home of Great Sand Dunes National Park. While wandering around town I found a skate park up the street from my couch surfer’s home. There, I met Steve, a geology major at the college in town, who showed me the Monte Vista National Wildlife Refuge. As we drove along the beautiful loop complete with birdwatching and the smoothest lakes I had ever seen, revealing nearly perfect reflections from the fluffy clouds, I thought about how happy I was to have met him. I wouldn’t have found that place had I not and I certainly wouldn’t have made it there in time for the golden hour of sunlight ideal for shooting photos. Synchronicity, it’s the common theme of this trip, for sure. I also would have probably never tried sandboarding. In case you couldn't have guessed, sandboarding is similar to snowboarding only it’s done on sand dunes and it is much harder to turn while on the board. I know this, because the man giving us the spiel at the store when we rented the board told us this and, almost immediately, I half jokingly told him not to underestimate us. Turns out, he was right. I was already at a disadvantage having never snowboarded, or skateboarded, for that matter, like Steve. No matter though, inexperience never stopped me before and I was incredibly excited to try this out. Wiggling my way to the edge of the dune, I took a deep breath, bent my knees, shifted my weight back, and flew. Settling in about half way through the ride, I relaxed and bent down a bit farther, letting my finger drag along the top of the sand. The sand felt like velvet under my fingertips, like I was riding a wave on a soft blanket. I loved it right up until I not so gracefully came to a stop. Great Sand Dunes National Park is only like White Sands National Monument in the sense that they are dune fields, that’s about all they have in common. The sand is similar to what you’d find down the shore, is burning hot in places, packed down in others, and crumbles under your feet most of the time. No dune looked alike, the interesting designs in the sand, some black from iron, and some resembling ripples of gold, changing constantly. Getting closer and examining, I noticed coarse, colorful sand was just underneath the top layer, glistening like gold highlights under the hot sun. The hike up the dunes was steep and exhausting but well worth it. The view was spectacular. We stopped here and there along the way to the top, each dune we thought was one hill closer and ended up being just an illusion. Wondering what the view was like on the other side, we slowly but surely reached the top and found more sand dunes and another angle of the snowcapped mountains. People looked like small specs down below and from the tallest sand dunes in North America I could see where summer and winter blended seamlessly, small snow patches melting here and there on the dunes from the last snowfall. We half rode, half walked, back down to the bottom and relieved our feet in the shallow Medano creek along the base of the dunes, thankful it was there.
I’ve spent the last two nights and one day in Salida, Colorado, with “Dangerous Dave,” as he’s known to those who’ve listened to his radio show. He showed me around the, not as small as I thought, Colorado town known for their rafting. For being smaller, I was surprised to find out that it has two hostels. A river runs along its edge, artists have painted murals here and there, and Friday and Saturday nights downtown are alive with music from the nearby local stage. The lakes around the area where Dave walks his sweet dog, Crow, often are lined with fly fisherman and families enjoying some outdoor activities. Dave treated me to the hot springs at Mt. Princeton, not too far up the road, and it the perfect way to relax and spend my four month anniversary. Spoiled once again and appreciative of the great time in Salida, it was only made better by the delicious, homemade, non-Philly, Philly cheesesteak and local red wine. Strolling downtown with the pair, I noticed the giant “S” on the mountain as it changed to a heart and back again; for as the saying goes, “follow your heart to Salida.”
Tomorrow I turn 27... twenty-seven. Damn, I feel old all of a sudden. Anyway, back to exploring. Talk soon!
- G.
The Photo:
Great Sand Dunes National Park.
Alamosa, Colorado.
5/12/17.
