Colorado road trip: Day four

When I imagined my first morning in Colorado, I pictured waking to cool, crisp air, surrounded by pine trees, the sun’s rays peeking over distant snow-capped mountains. Instead, I woke up in the back of a car in an RV parking lot, cold and achy. But nothing could dampen the excitement I felt to finally be in the place I have been dreaming of visiting for most of my life. 

Our first stop today was Great Sand Dunes National Park and Preserve. Driving towards the park, we marveled at the dunes that stretched nearly a third of the height mountains behind them. As we got closer, it became more apparent just how out of place the dunes seemed. With mountains and forests surrounding them, the dunes seemed to have just appeared out of nowhere. It was as if God had dropped a giant sand box in the middle of Colorado for all the humans to play on.

We bought a national park pass, an investment both Joseph and I have been excited about making. Hiking has always been one of our favorite pastimes, and with this pass, not only will all the national parks we plan on visiting on this trip be free, but so will all the others we visit for the next year. The idea of future weekend camping trips and day hikes is something we are both looking forward to. 

We arrived at the sand dunes before the visitor’s center opened, so we headed to the trails first. We walked the half mile from the visitors center to the sand dunes, following the map on Joseph’s phone. However, as we walked across the sand, it became apparent that there was not much of a trail to follow. The challenge was basically to climb the dunes to the highest point; however visitors wanted to accomplish that was up to them.

To say the hike was difficult would be an understatement. Even as active people and experienced hikers, we had to stop multiple times, gasping for air and eagerly guzzling our water. The dunes were steep, and our feet sunk into the hot sand, so we were constantly fighting gravity to keep ourselves from falling. The highest dune stretched 755 feet into the air, and we had to climb numerous other dunes just to get to its base. 

But the view was worth it. Gazing down from the top, the undulations of the dunes were reminiscent of ocean waves. The view of the mountains and Medano Creek were even more spectacular from that height. We watched in amazement as birds soared beneath us, winding between the dunes with enviable freedom. Far below us, the other visitors attempting the hike or sand boarding looked to be as small as ants. It was a moment of both exhilaration and awe as we gazed down at the world that we now seemed so far above.

We reached the top at just about the same time as another couple. Randy and Peggy are from Iowa, but they are currently in Colorado to visit their daughter. We chatted for a short while, and they offered to take our picture (after using hand sanitizer because there is a worldwide pandemic occurring). We took their picture as well and then parted ways. 

I always enjoy having the chance to meet new people and hear their stories. Of the seven billion people on this planet, I have barely even scratched the surface in the amount of people that I know, and even fewer of those do I truly have a relationship with. It always amazes me just how many people there are, all unique and living different lives, all just trying to experience life and find meaning in what they are doing. I wonder how many people at the sand dunes today were searching for that meaning in Colorado. I wonder if that’s partly what I am doing here, too. I wonder if that’s why I am writing this blog. 

We would have stayed at the top of the dunes for longer, but the wind was so strong that the sand it blew felt like small shards of glass cutting into our skin. And whenever the wind did cease, the sun beat down on us relentlessly. So, we began the trek back down, which was blessedly easier than the trip up. It reminded me of skiing as we glided down the sides of the dunes. My shoes filled with so much sand that they felt like weights on the bottoms of my feet. 

Joseph did not want to take the conventional way down. We had not bought a sand board because they were so expensive, but that did not stop him. With the exclamation, “Who needs a sand board?” he leapt off the highest dune and slid and rolled down the hot sand. He told me afterwards that the sand on the sides of the dunes was so hot, he couldn’t stop moving without burning his skin. 

We arrived back at the parking lot, famished and tired. However, we stopped briefly at the visitor’s center to pick up some post cards. Because of COVID-19, the store was operating only from the back door, with wares displayed in the store windows so visitors could choose and point to what they wanted and then have it handed to them beneath a glass partition. I actually didn’t mind this change of pace. It gave the concept of “window shopping” a much more literal meaning, but it was very efficient. We finished shopping in half the time it probably would have taken us. 

We headed back to the car and ate a morning snack on the way to our next destination: Durango. It wasn’t a place on our original itinerary (which consisted mostly of national parks), but Durango was a small town I fell in love with last summer during 4K for Cancer when my team stopped there for the night. When I first visited, I proclaimed it was where I would want to live should I ever finally follow my dream of moving to Colorado. As Joseph and I were making our route for this trip, Joseph saw it was close to Mesa Verde. Knowing how much I loved it there, and wanting to see it for himself after I made him jealous when describing the town to him last year, he insisted that we visit.

The drive to Durango was breathtaking. We climbed and wound through forested mountains, rain pattering against our car like a gentle melody. Joseph and I drank in the view as if it were water. This is the part of Colorado I love. The sand dunes, canyons, and cacti are all fun to see, but the mountains and the forests have always felt like home. 

When we arrived in Durango, the heat of the day had fully arrived. The sun had no mercy for us. Thankfully, dipping into air conditioned shops brought us some relief from the heat. 

We packed a lunch and ate outside a closed shop, and then we walked the main street, visiting stores and enjoying the bustling atmosphere. Durango was just as amazing as I remembered. We watched a train go by and listened to its soothing sound, and the feeling came back just as strong as it did a year ago: I want to live here. 

Even though it is our first full day in Colorado, Joseph and I both bought souvenirs because Durango is a town with both want to remember. It has had that same impression on both of us – this is somewhere special. Joseph bought me a hat, and I bought him a T-shirt and mug. We stopped at a cafe that served the best espresso and cold brew coffee that either of us tasted for a while. We walked the one street for the full three hours allotted by our parking meter, and we still did not have time to visit all the places we wanted. 

On our drive back, I felt the energy in the car, the desire to return, the buzzing question of whether we could. Joseph was the one to bring it up first. Would I consider moving there?

After so many months of him asking me if I would really move to Colorado, today was the first time I answered without hesitation. 

“Yes,” I said. 

“Really,” he asked, surprised. 

“Yes.” The excitement in the car grew. 

“Could we do that,” Joseph asked.

“I don’t know.” Moving at all is intimidating, especially without careers in place and debt from school already hanging over my head; moving halfway across the country is nothing short of petrifying. So, why is it that every time I think of it, my whole body seems light up like electric wires are running through it, making me want to dance on the spot? 

But the idea of leaving family and friends makes me pause. Moving to Colorado would mean starting over and moving away from everyone I love. Plenty of people do it, but plenty of people also do not. 

I am getting ahead of myself though. Right now, I am fulfilling my dream of road tripping to Colorado, that is all. I want to be present, in this moment, not considering possibilities for the future. The future is unknown. The present is the only place anyone can truly live. 

We arrived at our campsite, just twenty minutes outside of Mesa Verde. The gravel road led us to a plot of land surrounded by trees with a valley just beyond them and mountains hovering in the distance. The most interesting thing about this site, though, were the cows. There were dozens of them, grazing and walking around without any apparent home or owner. They walked through our campsite, acknowledging us with a few moos, and then continued their stroll. We didn’t see them for the rest of the night, but we have heard them calling to one another through the trees. 

We showered in our bathing suits with a portable shower Joseph brought. I thought the water would feel refreshing after such a long, sweaty day. However, as soon as we were wet, the evening Colorado air blanketed us until we were shivering uncontrollably. We dressed into warm clothes as quickly as possible and set up camp. Just a few minutes later, we were warm once again and eating a satisfying dinner. 

The sun disappeared behind the mountains, and the stars began to appear. Joseph and I sat outside our tent, mouths agape, staring at the heavens above. The stars in Maryland look nothing like the stars in Colorado. There wasn’t an inch of sky without one twinkling down at us. We gazed at the haze of the milky way that stretched across the black sky, and every so often, we caught a glimpse of a shooting star in the distance. 

I can’t shake the feeling that this is where I belong. I can only imagine falling asleep under a sky like this every night, of feeling this close to nature, of feeling this rested inside. As the John Muir quote goes, “The mountains are calling, and I must go.” It’s the pull I felt my entire life. It’s the pull that brought me here, tonight, gazing up at this brilliant sky and wondering if Colorado actually is where I am supposed to find my meaning. Maybe there are people I am supposed to meet here and things I am supposed to do. Maybe this is where I belong. 

It’s something I will have to think about, something I will have to consider in the back of my mind and ponder as we travel through Colorado for the next week. It’s something I will have to discuss with loved ones and honestly pray about. For now, I am just going to experience Colorado as if I am never coming back, and perhaps that will encourage this place to give me a reason to stay. 

The mountains are calling, and I am here to answer them.