Great Sand Dunes National Park in the shadow of the Sangre de Cristo Mountains. -- Photo by Pat Beab
“The more sand that has escaped from the hourglass of our life, the clearer we should see through it.” Niccolo Machiavelli.
Travels With Maggie*
I reached John Denver’s “Rocky Mountain High” today. My journey west on Highway 160 took me through the Sangre de Cristo Mountains, the highest being 14,351-foot tall Mount Blanco. The steep winding road through the mountains topped out at a 9,468-foot snow-enhanced summit.
Since Maggie and I hit the mountains a bit past sunrise and well before sunset, we didn’t get to see why the mountain was given its Spanish name, Blood of Christ. The name is supposedly for the reddish glow the mountains take on in morning and evening light.
Even so, I was properly awed by the Sangre de Cristos’ splendor – and I was properly thankful for the new brake pads on my RV, Gypsy Lee, as Maggie and I dropped down the far side of them. And properly surprised at the detour we took off Highway 160 to see the Great Sand Dunes.
Located at the base of the snow-covered Sangre de Cristos were giant pink piles of sand, some as tall as 750-feet. I couldn’t help but feel they were geographically out of place. Which of course made them all that much more special.
Estimated to be anywhere from 12,000 to a million years old, the dunes were formed by mountain erosion transported by the Rio Grande River and its tributaries. The sand pile grew, and in some places is still growing, because the tiny wind-blown granules are trapped in a curved valley.
The dunes became a national monument in 1922, and a national park in 2000. I lingered at the visitor center and among the sand for a couple of hours before ending my detour and getting back on Highway 160.
Up to this point in time, it had been a perfect traveling day. Little did I know the pitfalls of travel that lay ahead of me. Tune in again tomorrow and I’ll tell you the tale.
Continuing Day 7, April 25, 2001
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