Contemplative. Our second night in the backcountry started off in a convenience store, where we picked up ramen noodles and a length of rope. For some reason (probably because I've never needed it before) rope was one of the few things missing from my extensive stash of camping gear, and the ramen noodles were a nod to our childhood memories. Torrey and I had hiked out of the dunes where we camped the night before, made a run to the closest place we could find rope and noodles, and headed back to the trailhead. We weren't in any sort of hurry, and enjoyed our noodles before swinging our packs onto our backs and setting off up the road. The trail to the preserve part of Great Sand Dunes National Park and Preserve runs across what is known as a sand ramp, a layer of sandy soil that lays between the dune field that can't support a lot of plant life and the mountains that house the majority of it. The sand ramp boasts green and yellow fields of prairie and desert plants, and trees start popping up the closer you get to the mountains. We technically needed to take the Sand Ramp Trail across the fields to reach our backcountry campsite, but knew we could walk along the 4-wheel drive road to the point where the trail crosses it, and catch the trail to our campsite from there. We figured the road would be a little more packed down and easier to walk on than the sand trail, which sees significantly less traffic and would exhaust us more. So up the road we went.
Even walking on the road wasn't easy, especially with a pack loaded with everything you need for an overnight miles away from civilization. We hiked more slowly than normal, both because we were slowed due to the soft sand and because we weren't really in a hurry. We had started mid-afternoon and only had 4.5 miles to go, so we really had all day. We kept an eye on the mountains, where the thunderstorms would start building, and an ear out for the sound of vehicles behind and before us as we hikes along the one-lane road. The mountains must have decided they had received enough rain over the past few days, and even though some clouds began to billow up, they never left the tops of the range. Trucks and SUVs passed us by occasionally, but we always had warning and stood off to the side to let them pass before we continued on. Eventually we came to a creek and pulled off our shoes to get across it. A couple of guys on dirt bikes who had passed us earlier were pulled off to the side near the creek, trying to get service on their phones. They called out to us as we approached, asking if we knew what the road was called and explaining that they couldn't get gps up to figure it out. I pulled out my map and showed them where we were, and told them what I remembered about the mountain road that climbs through the pass in the Sangre de Christo Mountains before us. They thanked us and turned around, apparently on the wrong road. Torrey and I crossed the icy creek slowly, careful not to slip over the slick rocks and sandy dips, before reaching the sand road on the other side and continuing on.
We didn't have to walk much farther on the road, and almost before we knew it we spotted the sign marking the place where the Sand Ramp Trail leaves the road and cuts deep into the preserve. We stopped there, wiping the sand off of our feet and putting our shoes back on in preparation for the steep hike before us. Until that point I had spent all week at significantly higher and drier elevations than what I'm used to from living in east Texas, and I had actually done really well. You might remember my story from last year's white water rafting trip about getting bloody noses a lot, for a time when I was younger, and they came back to plague me when I moved to Texas. Well, I had been doing great. I hadn't had a bloody nose in months, and hadn't had to deal with any all week in Colorado. That is, until I reached the trailhead to our final campsite and bent down to put my shoes on. I felt it coming and had about two seconds to slap my hand to my face before I started bleeding everywhere. I'm pretty sure I scared Torrey as I swore loudly and frantically asked for a tissue or anything. Since I'm me and I'm always prepared, I carry tissues in my pack and was able to have Torrey dig them out for me while I pinched my nose. Holy crap, it was a bad one. I'm pretty sure I bled for five minutes and soaked through countless tissues, which I carefully wrapped up in the plastic pocket of the empty tissue pack and stowed in my hipbelt. When it finally stopped, I had to use some of our precious water to wash my face, and had to ask Torrey to check me to make sure I didn't miss any blood.
Unfortunately, my bloody noses make me not feel very good for the first few minutes directly after, but we needed to hike on and still had about a mile to go over the soft sand trail, so I sucked it up and started walking. I was pretty quiet after that, trying to focus on the trail and not on how light-headed and slightly dizzy I was. The last mile dragged on forever, and it was with no small amount of relief that we finally reached the turnoff for our campsite. I immediately sat down on a log and just rested, drinking water and snacking on almonds until I felt better. Then we got to work and set the tent up, sorted our supplies and dinner, and made ready for a night in the wild. In the preserve you are required to either use a bear canister or hang your smellies, and since I don't have a bear canister (yet) we got rope and used the tent bag as our hang bag. I've never camped in a backcountry area with such a high population of bears, so I've never had to use a hang bag before, but it was kind of fun getting the rope over a branch so we could hang our food and trash nine feet up and five feet out. Plus, you know, we had the possiblity of seeing a bear! Once everything was in place we settled back in the tent and relaxed for a bit until we got hungry, then made dinner and explored our surroundings a little bit. We were treated to a gorgeous moonrise again, and spent a while walking in circles around our campsite just to see what we could find (and secretly looking for bear tracks, but we didn't find any.) We climbed back in to the tent at dusk, and called it a night. I can't speak for Torrey, but I slept soundly the entire night and didn't hear a single noise, not even coyotes or owls.
The next morning, when we were to head out of the park and go back to civilization on the Front Range in Manitou Springs, we were up at dawn and packing, preparing to hike out the way we hiked in. We reached the road and hiked up it for a while, until we heard the sound of a car approaching from behind. We stepped to the side and the driver, a NPS Ranger, stopped to chat with us and ended up offering us a ride back to our car. We gladly accepted, and I got to enjoy driving along a road that I can't wait to be able to drive myself. We chatted with the ranger, and he told us about how he does this job seasonally and is a ski guide during the winter. We talked about some of the other trails in the park, like the ones up the mountains to the headwaters of Medano Creek, and just made small talk as we rode the two miles back to our car. He dropped us off and wished us a good day and a fun trip, and went on his way. Torrey and I loaded up and followed after him, wishing ourselves that we didn't have to leave the dunes yet. Some day soon I want to spend an entire week backpacking there. Who wants to go with me?
No comments:
Post a Comment