A Snapshot and The Scoop: The Vanishing Creek

There is a place, deep in the heart of Colorado where towering sand dunes are surrounded by rugged mountain ranges, where water flows above ground only during certain times of the year. Medano Creek borders the dune field at Great Sand Dunes National Park, flowing only when the snow is melting from the slopes of the mountains upstream. Once the snow is gone the creek stops flowing above ground, instead sinking the moisture into the sand while still travelling downstream, surfacing beyond the park in lush wetlands that play host to migrating birds, elk, deer, moose, and bears. Sometimes, during spring and early summer, the creek is cold and deep and fast-moving, stretching all the way from the dunes parking lot to the dunes themselves. During our visit last year Torrey and I followed all that was left of the stream, a little trickle of water, all they way to its end, when it gives up on the surface and soaks into the sand below. In all my visits to the park I've never actually seen the end of the creek - I've only ever seen it full and flowing or completely dry - so this was a fun little sight to see, there at the end of summer.

National Parks Week 2018

Happy National Parks Week! I seem to need the wild lands and scenic vistas protected by the National Park System now more than ever, and I can't wait until I travel to a few new parks in the coming months. In the meantime, I daydream and plan, counting down the days until I'm hiking soaring peaks and exploring deep canyons yet again. For now, take a look at the gallery of a few of my favorite parks to visit and get out there to enjoy one or two yourself!


Canyonlands National Park

Grand Canyon National Park 

Zion National Park

Great Sand Dunes National Park and Preserve

Rocky Mountain National Park

Happy Birthday National Park System!

Celebrate. Can you believe the National Park System is older than any of us? It's 101 years old! America's Best Idea has a lot to celebrate, and I want to take a moment to look at my favorite national parks while I look forward to the future of the parks system. Here I've listed out my favorite national parks, in no particular order, with a little description of each park and why it is one of my favorites. Enjoy!

Rocky Mountain National Park, CO
Who doesn't love towering mountains, tumbling waterfalls, lush evergreen forests smattered with aspen groves, A-list wildlife, and hot campfires under a cool night sky filled with stars? If you don't, you're wrong. But you don't have to take my word for it, just ask one of the million other visitors who seek out the mountains during the peak season of June through September. Why do I love this park, though? The sweeping mountain vistas are always amazing, both the main road, Trail Ridge Road, and the secondary dirt road called Fall River Road are well worth the drive, and any of the short hikes and established campgrounds in the park should be on your list to visit, but the real reason I love this park are the long hikes. There is nothing quite like summiting a mountain after gaining thousands of feet in elevation, or touching one of the few remaining glaciers in the lower 48, or passing by places to camp in the backcountry where you know you're in bear country. Yes, this place is amazing.

Canyonlands National Park, Island in the Sky District, UT
Grand views are the name of the game at this park, and you truly feel like you're in the sky as you stare down thousand foot cliffs to the next tier, then another thousand feet below that to the rivers. The Colorao River and the Green River cut Canyonlands into three sections, or Districts, and the Island in the Sky District is where you go if you want to see beyond the horizon. Up there you can glimpse the White Rim Road, views of the rivers, and use the plateau as a jumping point for any of the numerous trails down into the lower reaches of the park. This district of the park is all about the views for me, and if you visit at the right time you can find solitude as you perch on the edge of a cliff, watching a thunderstorm roll across the canyons below, contemplating life.

Canyonlands National Park, Needles District, UT
Yes, Canyonlands gets two spots on my list, because each District of the park is uniquely different. The Needles District is all about exploring. To really get a feel for this park you need to get out there and hike. There is only one road through a small section of the park, though a multitude of hiking trails sprout from the road. This district is significantly less visited than its sister Island in the Sky, and once you get out on the trails there are even less people. Why do I love it? You can hike for miles and get among the cliffs, arches, and spires (also known as hoodoos) and never see another person. Plus there is this amazing place called Chelser Park that defies words. You just have to go there.

Capitol Reef National Park, UT
Of the Big Five national parks in Utah, Capitol Reef is the least visited. I'm not sure why; maybe it is the remoteness, the drive along backcountry highways, or visitors don't see soaring cliffs and awe-inspiring views right from the road, at least none that can match other parks in the area. Capitol Reef has its own charm, but you have to get off the road to find it. The park protects a small oasis in the desert, a lush canyon threaded through by the Fremont River, that at one point saw a small culture of ancient Fremont Indians and at another point more recently was home to pioneers who planted orchards and farmed the land to make a living. The Gifford House still stands as a museum and monument to the mormon poineers, selling ice cream and homemade pies to hungry visitors looking for relief from the desert heat. Get out on a trail or hit up the scenic drive, though, and you get transported away from the green canyon bottom by the little river and find yourself surrounded by the unforgiving desert. This is the part I live for. Here you find the soaring cliffs splashed with colors ranging from tan to white to red to green and more. Here, out away from the main road, you find the little potholes embedded in sandstone, filled to the rim with tiny life. Here is the real magic of The Reef.

Zion National Park, UT
Zion is a world away from what most people will ever see in their lifetimes. If you think the pictures of thousand-foot cliffs, taken either from the top or the bottom of said cliffs, is awe-inspiring, you should try actually being there taking the picture. Zion National Park encompasses a large region of the southwest corner of Utah, but the main draw, and the most visited part of the park, is Zion Canyon. The canyon, carved by the small but mighty Virgin River, narrows the further upstream you travel, to the point where you can look up and your view is restricted to the patch of sky right above you thanks to the rusty red cliffs that rise up, sheer, more than a thousand feet into the air. Take a hike, usually a strenuous one, from the bottom of the canyon to any point up above the canyon floor and you will feel like you're on top of the world. Until you look up and realize you can go even higher. Along with all of the other parks on this list, I have visited this park multiple times, and each time I find something else to love. I visited in winter once, and fell in love with the silence that accompanies a soft snowfall. I visited more recently in May of this year and discovered even on the most popular hiking trails there is something special about overcoming your own mental barriers and making a climb that you thought impossible. For some of the most amazing hikes in the states, visit Zion.

Great Sand Dunes National Park and Preserve, CO
Do you like playing in the sand? The kid in everybody has a chance to stretch their legs at this popular National Park, where the nation's tallest sand dunes are surrounded by mountains whos peaks reach more than fourteen thousand feet above sea level. You can sand-surf and sled down the golden dunes, and when you need to cool off you can walk off the dunes to splash in Medano Creek, one of the two life-giving streams fed by meltwater in the mountains high above that surround the dune field. Stay until evening, though, when most of the visitors are back at their campsites or hotels, take a hike out onto the dune field at night, and a whole new world opens up around you. I like the dunes best at dawn and dusk, while everybody else is off the dunes and before the sand heats up to a burning point. Sunsets and sunrises paint the dunes with splashes of color and shadow, and on clear nights the skies are so bright you can see your shadow on the monotone sand. Out in the preserve section of the park elk and bears share space with coyotes, antelope, and mule deer, and only one primitive road and a small handful of hiking trails provide humans a glimpse into their world.

Great Smoky Mountains National Park, TN/NC
Lush green mountains rolling away into the distance, the constant sound of water dripping, trickling, rushing, roaring, life everywhere you look, from little salamanders under the leaf litter to birds chirping in the trees above your head, the Smoky Mountains are something unique. I usually avoid crowds, but even the most visited national park in the country has a few places where you can find peace and quiet, if you know when and where to go. I found plenty of it on my trip there in the off-season, when summer vacations were over and everybody went back to school and work. Do you want to be practically guaranteed to see an american black bear? Visit the Great Smoky Mountains National Park, where they have one of the highest population densities of bears in the eastern US. I loved hiking in this park, where it was constantly wet and humid and vibrating with life. Also, I love bears and I got excited every time I saw one.

Surprise! Most of my favorite parks are in Colorado and Utah. You're not really surprised, huh? Also no surprise, my favorite parks are located in the mountains or the desert. I do have a goal to visit all of the 415+ national park/monument units (and I've hit a fair few) so I think my opinion of the best national parks is based on as much of a scientific process as possible, but I can't deny the way the desert and mountains call to me, and how the desert always sits right next to a mountain range. Here's my thought though: I want to know what your favorite park is, and why. If I haven't been there, I would love to know what makes it amazing. If I have been there, convince me why your park should be on my list of favorites. I look forward to rewriting my list this time next year.

National Backpackers Day

Commemorative. You know, my hobby sure has a lot of days to celebrate. There's National Trails Day, National Parks Week, The National Park System Birthday, National Public Lands Day, and National Backpacker's Day. Am I missing any? Probably. Why should we celebrate days that are dedicated to the outdoors? If you're reading this blog you already know my answer, but to refresh your memory we should celebrate the outdoors because being outside is healthy; it is good for our mental and physical wellbeing; the outdoors provide so many opportunites for recreation including hiking, biking, boating, paddling, hunting, and fishing; and the outdoors brings everybody together in ways that an office party can't, nevermind the cultural and historical significance preserved in the outdoors and the fact that we need resources from outside to survive. Today we are celebrating something a little more exclusive, something relatively few people compared to the general population have ever wet their toes in. Today, we celebrate backpacking, and the kickass people who do it.

Why would anybody want to strap their entire life to their back and walk a bunch of miles? Every single person has a different reason for backpacking, and I can't speak for them, but I can tell you my reasons for backpacking with the hope that maybe you'll find a reason to backpack at least once and try it out yourself. I backpack because the world isn't contained along the sides of a highway, and to really see I need to get out on a trail and explore. I backpack to find solitude or companionship, depending on if I take someone with me or fly solo. I backpack to test myself, to push past my limits that end up being mostly mental though I have found a few physical limits as well. I backpack to relax and get away from life and stress and my problems that shrink to nothing when I'm on the trail and the only thing I need to do is focus on packing well, putting one foot in front of the other, and make sure I'm at a good campsite before the storm hits. Trail life is simple, but presents challenges in ways that make you grow as a person. You learn to double check your packing list before you leave home, because if you forget your fuel canister you either eat cold food or go hungry. You learn to pitch your tent on a slight incline to keep water from pooling under you when it rains. You learn the value of something when you have to decide if you want to carry it with you, if it is really worth the weight. You learn that the best heat source on a cold night is a dog crammed into your sleeping bag with you, because damn they are warm. So many lessons on the trail that you would never learn if you stay at home.

To celebrate National Backpackers Day I've made a list of my favorite backcountry campsites, all requiring you to strap on what you need to stay in the wilderness for a night or more and hoof it into the middle of nowhere. No cell service, no electricity, no cars, and very few other people, if any. In no particular order, enjoy!

Copper Breaks State Park, Texas

If you're looking for solitude this tiny state park near the Texas/Oklahoma state line delivers like a ton of bricks. They only have a handfull of established campsites and offer just a couple of backpacking permits per night, ensuring you will pretty much have the park to yourself. The trail to the backcountry area isn't long, only about a mile and a half, but you feel like you've walk twenty miles into the middle of nowhere with the lack of noise around you. Fall asleep on a ledge above a small gully listening to the coyotes yip around you as the stars bloom in the deep sky above. Bonus points: you can bring your dog.

Little Medano Campsite, Great Sand Dunes National Park and Presesrve, Colorado

The hike to this backcountry site is not easy, requiring five miles of walking on loose sand, even if you walk on the somewhat packed-down primitive road, but the hike plus how the national park spaces out their backcountry sites all but guarantees you'll have a prime site for watching the sun set over the sand ramp and a good shot at seeing wildlife. There are numerous bears in the preserve portion of the park, so using a hang bag or a bear canister is required. We didn't see one while we were out there, but it wasn't for a lack of trying.

South Llano River State Park, Texas

This pretty little backcountry area has five "established" sites to choose from, once you make the two mile hike to get here. One of the few backcountry sites to provide picnic tables, it is a beautiful place to lounge around under the shade of cottonwood trees while the evening settles in around you. Make sure to get there early and you might see hummingbirds flitting around in the afternoon light while armadillos wake up for a night of foraging. Bonus points: Dogs allowed!

Grapevine Canyon, Grand Canyon National Park, Arizona

There is no easy way to get to this backcountry site, which requires at least ten miles of walking before you can call it a night. Usually done as the second night of a four day trek along the Grand Canyon, Grapevine retains its water flow through May and sometimes into mid-June. Water is life in the desert, so don't be surprised if you share your site with another hiker or two (though we had the whole canyon to ourselves when we went), and maybe some mule deer or coyotes. The stream is full of tadpoles during spring, though they grow up fast before their home dries up. A word of caution: never camp at the bottom of a canyon, wash, or gully in the desert unless you are certain it won't rain anywhere within 40 miles of your location. Flash floods come up fast and without warning even if it isn't raining where you are. 

Sea Rim State Park, Texas

Who doesn't love the sound of waves crashing in a rhythmic beat against the shore? If you can brave the mosquitoes (with the help of lots and lots of bug spray) a stay along the beach at this state park is well worth the effort to get here. While you can drive along the beach to a point, and those with four wheel drive capabilities can drive even further, you can also load up your backpack and walk to any site on the five miles of beach that suites your fancy. You aren't allowed to camp on the grass-covered dunes, but you wouldn't want to anyway; alligators and wild hogs call them and the salty wetlands the dunes protect home. Sunrises and sunsets above the gulf are like nothing else on earth.

Dune field, Great Sand Dunes National Park and Preserve, Colorado

Everybody wants to play in a giant sand box, and when you can camp in it? Even better. The play of light and shadow among the thirty square mile dune field makes staying the night even more dramatic, just be sure to stay up long enough to catch the sunset over the dunes and wake up early enough to watch the sand begin to glow with the morning light. The hike into the dune field is strenuous, and adding a pack doesn't help. Most people don't cross the first ridge of dunes and that is considered the day use area, so you are required to hike well beyond that before you can call it a night. Give yourself plenty of time to reach your site, but if you do hike in the dark a headlamp is a must. Just be sure to get off the dunes fast if there is an approaching thunderstorm, you truly are the tallest thing out there.

Cottonwood Canyon, Grand Canyon National Park, Arizona

As one of the few permanent water sources within the canyon walls Cottonwood Canyon is a popular backpacking destination, and is easy enough to reach for a single overnight. That doesn't mean you should pass over it though. In the desert, with water comes beauty, and Cottonwood is well named for its abundant cottonwood trees, as well as junipers and other desert flora. The hike into the canyon is not easy, however, and there are signs and rangers everywhere reminding people that going down into the canyon is optional but coming back up is mandatory. 

What do you think? Can you handle staying in a place like one of those mentioned above? Backpacking really doesn't take a special kind of person, it just takes someone willing to try something new with the possibliltiy of learning a few lessons along the way. There are bad things about backpacking, sure, like the bugs and the heat (or cold), the distance from help if you get into trouble, or the possibility of running in to angry wildlife, but the benefits of backpacking far outweigh the risks. I taught myself how to backpack, devouring every book, magazine, article, and blog I could get my hands on before I felt ready enough to try it on my own, and even now I am tweaking my technique every time I load up for a new trip. Lucky for you, I've got most of the hard part figured out and am more than happy to bring newcomers along for a night or two under the stars. I've somehow managed to talk a couple of my friends and my sister into accompanying me on backpacking adventures, and they keep coming back for more so I can't be scaring them off too badly. Congratulations ladies, this day if for you as well! Want to join our ranks and give backpacking a shot? Let me know! In the meantime, Happy National Backpackers Day!

National Trails Day

Happy National Trails Day! Throughout the years I've been travelling I've been on countless hiking trails, from short little spurs to fourty plus mile treks, and everything in between. If you've been with me since the beginning I'm sure you've noticed my evolution from short day trips to multi-day backpacking, as well as the knowledge and experience that comes with it. Hiking has let me find myself, escape from work and responsibilities, and has become who I am. Hi, I'm Natasha, I hike a lot and love animals. Being on a trail has given me confidence in my own abilities, a hobby worth bragging about, and a passion I love to share.

I have no intention to quit hiking, and actually want to plan a short thru-hike in the upcoming years. I'll hike as much as I can as far as I can, and would love to take anybody who wants to tag along! In celebration of National Trails Day I've compiled a list of my favorite trails to date, complete with a picture and short description, plus my personal favorite part of the trail. Read on below!

Chesler Park/The Joints, Needles District, Canyonlands National Park, UT

This trail will forever be on the list of favorites, and for very good reason. Where else do you get to walk through a grass and wildflower filled bowl surrounded by hundreds of spires striped with red and white rock, then descend into narrow cracks in the earth that you can explore to your heart's content? Backpacking Chesler Park is a life goal of mine, and it's just a matter of time before I can't resist going back and doing it. Plus, you know, The Joints are neat too!

The Dune Field, Great Sand Dunes National Park and Preserve, CO

A giant sandbox surrounded by 14,000 ft mountains? Yes, please! Sprinkle in wild sunflowers during the right time of year, and make sure you catch a sunset and a sunrise among the dunes, and you're in for a magical time. There are no established trails in the dune (the shifting sand would bury markers in no time) so making sure you know your directions and landmarks outside of the dune field is a must.

Andrew's Tarn and Glacier, Rocky Mountain National Park, CO

The first time hiking to a glacier and it's tarn is always sure to make an impression, and Andrew's Glacier in Rocky Mountain certainly did. It wasn't just the glacier that made the whole long day hike worth it; we passed pristine alpine lakes like The Loch (above) along the way. A hike just to this lake alone would be worth it!

Mount Le Conte via Rainbow Falls Trail, Great Smoky Mountains National Park, TN

Hiking alone deep in bear country with a storm rolling in? Yeah, it might not have been the smartest move on my part but the hike itself was well worth the worry. I've never hiked in a place so green, and pictures don't do it justice. Can I go back now?

Hidden Canyon, Zion National Park, UT

I finally finished this short hike in Zion, and it was so worth the 18 month wait. Not for those with a fear of heights or tight places, the trail to the mouth of Hidden Canyon is sprinkled with exposed sections along the shelf of a cliff, with nothing but a chain bolted to the rock for you to hold on to. A set of stairs and many switchback make it moderately strenuous, but for those with plenty of water and a good pair of legs your reward is Hidden Canyon with it's fern-covered walls and cool shady grottos.

Angel's Landing, Zion National Park, UT

This is by far the scariest hike I've ever accomplished, and though I'm not sure I would do it again I am beyond proud of myself that I finished it. Now, I don't have a fear of heights at all, but I have a slight problem using a chain to pull myself up and down a very narrow fin of rock with thousand foot drop offs on both sides of my feet, especially a chain that swings out unexpectedly if someone else grabs it or lets it go. The view from the top though? Incredible.

Tonto Trail, Grand Canyon National Park, AZ

Another recent accomplishment, the Tonto Trail is one of a small handful of trails that run the length of Grand Canyon National Park, inside the canyon. My sister and I spent four days hiking the canyon, with all three of our campsites on this trail. More on that adventure will come later, but all I'll say right now is I want to go back. I miss the trail, the simplicity of walking, no phones, no communication outside of ourselves and a couple of other hikers, and the quiet. The walking wasn't easy by any means, but I already miss it and I've only been back for a couple of weeks.

National Trails Day is also a day for hikers to give back to the trails we love so much, and thank the people who make trails possible. I encourage every one of you who's ever enjoyed a trail to do something to benefit and give back. You can volunteer for trail maintenance, pick up garbage along your favorite trail, donate to a nonprofit that advocates for trails, or countless other options to help keep trails accessible to everyone. If nothing else, get outside and hit a trail! I'll see ya out there.

What I'm listening to: At Wit's End by Hans Zimmer

A Snapshot and The Scoop: Breakfast Views

Torrey and I were in no hurry to leave. We had hiked into the dune field of Great Sand Dunes National Park the night before, and spent the morning being lazy. We'd had a crazy week up to that point of go-go-go (by our own design) but decided that the morning on the dunes was one of relaxation. I was up first, wandering around and watching the sun rise, then Torrey got up and wandered like I did while I boiled water for oatmeal. I grabbed breakfast and followed her tracks, finding her at the edge of the field overlooking the rising sun. We sat on the sand, passing the bowl back and forth as we watched the world far below wake up. We finished our food but continued to sit there, not in any hurry, with no where to go except into the mountains that night. I need to remember that slowing down and relaxing while on my adventures isn't a bad thing. Sometimes, you just need to be in the moment with a hot cup of oatmeal and a good friend.

Leave me a comment below and tell me about your favorite breakfast view.

A Snapshot and The Scoop: Stories in the Sand

In the forest, unless they have really big paws or there is some really soft dirt, you typically don't see the prints and signs of animals. On sand, however, there's a different story. You can see every single track from every animal that has passed through, until the next wind or rain washes them away. On the morning we woke up in the dune field of Great Sand Dunes National Park, Torrey and I found several sets of prints near our camp. Most of them were small, as from insects or maybe lizards or kangaroo rats, but we did see some larger prints that made us rethink whether or not we were really alone the night before. We saw some prints that might have belonged to someone's dog, or maybe a coyote, then we found these prints that were clearly not a dog. The only thing we could think of was bobcat, because they looked like they had been chasing something (a kangaroo rat probably), we saw scuff marks, then just these prints walking away back towards the edge of the dunes. I wish I had taken a scale shot with my hand or something, but these were definitely not house-cat sized tracks, but were also much smaller than a mountain lion's. Here, kitty kitty!

Leave me a comment below and tell me about a time you came across tracks on one of your hikes.

A Snapshot and The Scoop: Awaiting the Storm

Now that I live in East Texas, I really, really miss watching thunderstorms roll in. With all of the trees out here, you can't see much of the sky. Back in August when Torrey and I first arrived at Great Sand Dunes National Park and Preserve, we were treated to a storm building over the mountains, then watched as it rolled toward us and the dunes. The light tan sand popped against the darkening sky, and even though it meant we would have to delay our start time for our backpacking trip, I didn't mind at all. I got to stand in Medano Creek and watch a storm come in; I was in my happy place.

Leave me a comment below and tell me if you like watching storms approach. Is it just me?

A Sand Ramp, a Hang Bag, and a Little Blood

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?

Take the Chance

Resolved. When you see an opportunity, you just have to go for it. That's been my MO lately, especially within the last two years of travel. If you get the chance to go, go. Torrey and I were waiting for that chance halfway through our week-long adventure in Colorado, when we found ourselves sitting in my car at the trailhead waiting out a thunderstorm. We had arrived at Great Sand Dunes National Park and Preserve in the early afternoon, just in time to grab a two day backpacking permit, snap a few photos of the storm rolling in over the mountains, drive to the trailhead, and hurry up and wait it out. Thunderstorms are not something you mess around with on the dunes, and we weren't taking any chances; we sat in the car and waited, exactly how my sister and I had done six week earlier.

The main storm eventually passed, though the rain persisted. I knew exactly how cold and miserable we would be if we started off in the rain, set up camp in the rain, made dinner in the rain, and tried to sleep while wet. We would freeze in the 40-50 degree nighttime temperatures. Then again, I kept an eye on the clock and knew that if we started too late we would be hiking into the 30 square mile dunefield with no trails in the dark, and even with headlamps that wasn't something I wanted to do. Finding a good place to pitch a tent is hard enough during the day. Several times the rain let up or completely stopped and I mentioned going for it, hoping to get into the dunes and set up before the next round of rain, but almost before the words were out of my mouth it would start up again. We debated staying in the car for the night and hiking into the backcountry the next day instead since we had a two night permit, but neither of us really wanted to do that. The whole point of our adventure was to backpack into the wilderness and pitch a tent where ever we wanted, not to sleep in a car.

Maybe if I had been by myself I would have hiked in the rain and risked freezing overnight, but I had Torrey to think about too. It was a week of firsts for her; first time camping in the mountains, first time hiking to a glacier, first time going so long without a shower, and I didn't want her first time backpacking to be a miserable experience. My desire to have a successful backpacking trip won out, but as we sat in the car and waited for an opportunity to go I realized that having a friend to adventure with keeps me from doing stupid things. When I'm with someone I am forced to consider their safety and comfort in addition to my own, and suddenly risks that I would be willing to take on myself become something I'm not willing to impose on my companion. (Mostly because I want to remain friends with everyone I adventure with, and if I make them miserable they won't want to go with me again!) Nearly every misadventure I've had while travelling has occurred while I was alone, from getting lost, getting spooked, taking a wrong turn, driving into a blizzard, and more. Now, I might have still gotten lost and taken a wrong turn, but I wouldn't have been as spooked if I'd had a friend to talk to and make noise with, and a friend would have told me I was an idiot to think I could outrun a blizzard and talked me out of even trying. So Torrey and I sat in my car and waited for our chance.

It came, right at the last possible minute. We were dangerously close to sunset, and I knew we needed to get into the dune field asap if we wanted to find a place to pitch the tent. We went as quickly as we could with loaded packs, over the grassy field, through icy Medano Creek, and finally onto the dunes just as the sun slipped below the horizon. We hiked up, and it was just as difficult as I remembered. I had tried to warn Torrey that hiking on the dunes wasn't easy, that for every step you took forward you slipped half a step back, but that warning didn't make our hike any better. We stumbled up the dunes, heading north and east away from the lights of the campground and visitors center in the distance, seeking solitude and a flat place to camp. We found both as the light left the sky and the moon tried to peek out behind the last of the clouds. We set up camp and made dinner by the light of our headlamps, shivering slightly as night settled in around us, trying to stay close to the little flame and boiling water, and huddling over our warm dinner packet. It sprinkled a little and we dove into the tent, knowing we needed to keep dry to stay warm. The sprinkles passed, the moon came out, and the dunes were transformed. 

We crawled out of the tent, staring around at the moonlit dunes in awe. The moon was so bright that we cast shadows against the silvery sand, and we could see every detail of our tent and gear clearly without the use of headlamps. Suddenly, giggling like children, we started scrambling up the nearest dune, sometimes using our hands, laughing so hard we couldn't breathe. I don't think we even really talked about it, we just went for it. We wanted to see out; out of the bowl, out into the dune field, out into the mountains. We wanted to experience this moonlit world for ourselves, not caring about the damp or the cold, just wanting to go. We sat there for a while staring at the stars, giggling and reminiscing about our middle school and high school days, talking about our adventures of the week and what we hoped was in store for the rest of it. Eventually we got cold and climbed down, back into the sheltered bowl and back into the tent, climbing into our sleeping bags and chatting a bit more as we drifted off to sleep with the moon still casting its glow all around us.

The next morning I was up before dawn and headed out of the tent to capture the first rays on the dunes, leaving Torrey still buried in her sleeping bag. I wandered around, smiling to myself when I saw our tracks from the night before, where our wild mood and desire to see had driven us up the dune. As the sun peeked its face over the lip of the bowl and bathed our tent with light I heard Torrey moving around inside and started breakfast. Torrey wandered as I had done while I heated the water for oatmeal, and once finished I followed her tracks to the very edge of the dunefield where I found her overlooking the mountain range to the east below the rising sun. We sat there on the edge of the dunes, sharing the bowl and watching the sand ramp to the mountains wake up. We saw a deer prancing on the sand far below, watched a coyote running down the four-wheel drive road into the mountains, and saw several vehicles start their way up the road as they headed toward the mountain pass. We weren't in any hurry ourselves, heading back to camp after we'd finished our breakfast and lounging around, laying in the sun and soaking it all in. We had the whole day and another night in the park, though we intended to hike into the mountains for our second night backpacking. We'd get there eventually. At the time, though, we had the opportunity to relax, and took it.