 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
Day 4 Pueblo, ColoradoOver fresh-made huevos rancheros and breakfast burritos in a Mexican diner in Pueblo the next morning, we write postcards to friends and pore over our maps. Today we will turn westward and enter those mountains which until now have only been obscure and distant peaks growing ever larger on the horizon. Retracing our route of yesterday, we continue south on I-25, and swing off at Walsenburg to take Colorado State Hwy. 160 west into the Sangre de Cristo range of the Rockies. The stone-faced, snow-capped pyramids loom ever larger before us until the highway begins a long, winding climb. The engine temperature holds steady today and we soon find ourselves at the summit of North La Veta Pass—9413’ ASL. There is little time to enjoy the view, as the pavement quickly begins its descent and we pick up speed for the cruise downward.
A unique set of climatic circumstances has created a singular place here: Great Sand Dunes National Monument. Westerly winds sweeping across this broad plain were once able to pick up and carry vast quantities of the fine sand which comprised its surface, until they came to the base of the Sangre de Cristo mountains. The wind raced upward on the western slopes but, unable to loft the sand up and over, dropped it at the foot of the mountains. Collecting here over several thousand years, the sheer volume of sand is incomprehensible, the dunes covering over 40 square miles and rising to 750’, the largest in North America. Though present conditions no longer deposit sand, the dunes are still relentlessly shaped and changed by the winds.
| In
the beautiful, newly redesigned campground we choose a nice cozy site
bounded on one side by pinyon and juniper, with a view of the nearby
dunes and the mountains on the other. Tawny mule deer traipse through
the campsites, grazing on the greenery. After a quick lunch in camp we
drive down to the trailhead and venture out onto the vast sand sheet at
the foot of the dunes. The sheer immensity of the dunes is not truly
appreciated until we have walked toward them, and walked, and walked,
their golden waves and ripples and crests rising higher and higher to
fill the sky before us. Later that evening around the campfire, the moon makes a brief appearance shortly after sunset, then chases the sun over the distant San Juan mountains. As the fire subsides to embers, a brilliant shooting star streaks across the darkened sky, east to west, trailing blue and green sparks that shimmer and almost audibly crackle. Perhaps it points the way to our continuing journey westward … |
 |
Day 5 Great Sand Dunes National MonumentThe Westy gives us trouble this morning, but of another kind; repeated attempts to start it fail to produce anything but clouds of smoke. Finally rolling it out of our campsite and down the hill, we pop the clutch and the engine fires right up. Once warmed-up, the van performs flawlessly the rest of the day–and will continue to do so every day after that–except requiring a similar rolling start most mornings. This is usually little more than a persistant inconvenience, but in those morning locations without a suitable hill, an old-fashioned manual push-start is called for, which is a discouraging way to achieve one’s daily workout.
We leave Great Sand Dunes about noon, again swing west on Hwy. 160, and enjoy lunch at a picnic table beneath cottonwood trees in a grocery-store parking lot in Alamosa. In the branches overhead, raucous and hungry crows await our leftovers. We leave town and get a running start for our climb to the Continental Divide.
The highway shifts upward and we begin our ascent, climbing up at steepening angles along one side of the valley leading up to the pass. Downshifting through the range—fourth gear, third, sometimes even second—we eventually settle into a low-gear, slow-speed climb, Pass Creek coursing down the steep, rocky gorge. Higher and higher we climb, every curve revealing yet more elevation to be gained, engine thrumming, ears popping. Even our can of Pringles potato chips threatens to blow its freshness seal. Patches of snow grow larger and closer together until the ground is covered by the white stuff. Finally the grade lessens, the road gradually levels and we suddenly find ourselves at the summit of Wolf Creek Pass—10,850’ASL.
 |
This is
the Continental Divide, the very backbone of North America, rugged and
raw and exposed. Like the peak of a roof, all lands east
of here drain to the Rio Grande, Missouri, and Mississippi Rivers,
eventually emptying into the Gulf of Mexico in the Atlantic Ocean. All
parts to the west flow to the Colorado, Columbia, and other western
rivers which pour themselves into the Pacific. At the top of the
pass there is a vehicle turnout and a plaque marking the place. |
|
 |