America!

For some reason I felt like writing today. Here it goes...

Feeling inspired by all the lovable traveling hobos in our life, and having not yet made any Valentine's Day plans, I decided to plan a small adventure. Antonio had a rare Sunday off, and I found out that it was free to visit Great Sand Dunes National Park this weekend. We're a little broke after getting our car fixed from the accident back in October, but on the upside, we have a really nice car again! Perfect for adventuring. So I did some googling and mapping, and decided that we'd leave our apartment after my anatomy lab on Saturday, drive the 4 hour hours to Alamosa, camp in our car at a Walmart, and then go see the sand dunes at sunrise.

So we packed up some water, sandwiches, trail mix, and donuts. I checked the weather and it was going to be around 19 degrees overnight, so we layered on fleece and wool socks and packed plenty of warm clothes. Antonio outfitted the back of the car with sleeping pads and blankets and pillows. He hung lanterns from the hooks and handles near the passenger seats, and packed our books and some crossword puzzles. We gave Puff extra food and hay and said goodbye to him, and I felt sad because I am a crazy rabbit-lady now. Antonio reassured me that he would be ok by himself for one night. Then we got in our car and drove South, the whole way listening to the 90's and 00's radio station, trying to sing and remember the lyrics to songs we loved in middle school.

Eventually we got off the highway and started driving West. It was dark by then, and there were no towns or lights around us. We looked up at the sky--spectacularly clear and and detailed--and realized it had been a long time since we'd seen this many stars. As we kept driving, dark mountains loomed on either side of us and our ears popped as we gained elevation. Eventually we went through some tiny towns. At first we'd see a few collapsing barns, and then shabby houses with porches full of furniture and odd objects, old trucks parked out front. Downtown there were stores and cafes with funny names, like a pizza shop that was called "All Gonn". We passed a mining museum that had creepy mannequins staring out from the windows.

We drove through some more darkness and eventually got to Alamosa, which thankfully had no mannequins in windows. We got to the Walmart and parked in the back near an RV and another SUV with a camping setup in the back. We decided to go in and buy a jug of water before we went to bed. As we walked through the Walmart we passed a grizzled old man, staring at the ground and shuffling by us with a cart full of beer and plastic bags. We watched as he went to the SUV we parked next to and began unloading his things into his car. After buying our water we moved to a different spot a little further down.

We crawled around inside our car and eventually got all tucked in for sleep. I used my coat to cover the window next to me and realized I felt very exposed and not tired at all. We both read our books for a short time and then tried to sleep. I now know that sleeping in your car in a Walmart parking lot is not an easy thing at all. Around one or two in the morning a tow truck and a van parked near us, and unloaded a street sweeper and a couple of guys with leafblowers. They noisily cleaned the parking lot of dust for a few hours.

My alarm went off at 5 a.m. and we woke up slowly, preparing to see the sun rise on the dunes. Inexplicably, there was an empty black sedan parked directly next to us. Our breath had fogged up the windows car and the freezing temperatures had turned the condensation into ice. We piled into the front seats and tried to start the car. The battery was dead. It seemed as though Antonio accidentally kicked on the headlights while crawling around in the car, and they remained on all night. We looked around for other people to give us a jump, and spotted a truck pulling into the parking lot. Antonio flagged him down and asked for a jump, and he came right over. I was amazed at how nice people can be at 5 in the morning. Antonio spoke to him in Spanish as they attached the cables. As soon as all the ends were attached the car came back to life. After a few minutes we were thanking him and we both drove away. We stopped at a McDonalds to get some hot water for our tea, and even though there was a slight mishap involving spilt tea as Antonio jerked the car, we were in pretty good spirits.

The sun rose as we drove. It was beautiful. Bright oranges and pinks and purples and blues spreading over the plains and Mount Blanca in front of us. The Sangre de Cristo Mountains rose up on our left, more unknown mountain ranges rose on our right. We stopped at a rest stop and read that this was sacred land to Native Americans, in the past and today. We passed herds of grazing deer and elk. We stopped to listen to the sounds of their hooves on the ground, their quiet bleating and munching. As we arrived in the park we heard the wild yipping of foxes. All around there were ranges of colors, and all types of landscapes. Prairie, scrubland, pinon pine forest, 13,000 foot mountains, snow and streams, and then the sand dunes. Huge, expansive mounds of brownish sand. It looked like we stepped into the Sahara. We walked into the dunes and realized that everything was larger and farther away than it seemed. There was almost no one else there and every few moments we paused to listen. You could hear nothing. I had read that this was the "quietest park in the contiguous 48 states".

We were cold when we first started exploring, but warmed up quickly after walking up the dunes. We spent a few hours hiking around, trying out some sledding with a broken sled we found, lying still in the sand, eating trail mix, and taking in the scenery. It was unlike any other place we'd ever seen or been. We had the place almost to ourselves and felt a heavy, pleasant, peacefulness.

We eventually left the dunes and ate lunch. After not sleeping and hiking in the dunes, we were too exhausted to hike anywhere else. We began the drive home and enjoyed the scenery that we had missed in the darkness the night before: huge, snowy mountain ranges, vast prairie, and a herd of pronghorn deer. In those times I feel so lucky to live in Colorado. It was snowing in Denver as we arrived home. We trudged upstairs, greeted Puff, and fell asleep.