Monday, 7/14/97
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At 5:30 am, I am awakened to the sound of thunder and bright flashes of lightning in three
compass directions and the trailer canvas flapping in a strong wind. I got up
to close the trailer windows against possible rain. Sporadic heavy rain did come,
never lasting more than a few minutes at a time, but the lightning and thunder continued.
At one point I heard the uncertain sound of a heavily leaved tree branch falling, but fell back to sleep until the
alarm clock rang at 6:30 am.
We had breakfast of oatmeal and orange juice, and then started packing up. While
walking around the trailer to unhook bungee cords, I happened to look toward another campsite a hundred feet away and had
to sort out in my head what I was seeing. There was an ENORMOUS cottonwood tree
branch down on top of a tent, flattened to the ground. I went over and found
the occupants outside and mostly OK. They were a German speaking family, where
only the wife spoke English. The two little girls, aged about 10 and 12, were
OK and the Father had received a scratch on his shoulder. If they had chosen
to sleep on a slightly different location in the tent floor, it would have been fatal.
One branch was embedded into the ground through the tent. They had obtained a gas chain saw from the office and were
waiting until the end of quiet hours so they could cut up the branch and retrieve their belongings pined in side.
There was nothing for us to do to help them, and the rain had moved off, so we hit the road, with an early stop at
a roadside marker near actual ruts of the Santa Fe Trail. We took the short hike to the ruts and walked in them.
Big Thrill for Bob, Ho Hum for Brennan.
On the road again, we see a Granary off at the horizon. Seven miles later,
we pass it. This is like living on a giant pool table. We cross into Colorado
and Mountain Time Zone. We stop at Bent's Old Fort National Historical Site for
several entertaining and informative hours. I shot a roll and a half of film. We had lunch and got gas in La Junta and started down Colorado Route 10, described
to us by the CG host as a perfectly straight 75 miles of nothing connecting to the town of Walsenburg. The description was pretty close.
The road took one jog around something they did not want to build a road over, but what ever it was, it was not there
any more. After the jog, the road was perfectly aligned with its original track. Along the entire distance, there were no houses, barns, or other signs of human habitation,
just near desert. There were only two side roads, both dirt, leading off to nothing
we could see.
Suddenly, I see them, a thin blue line at the horizon. Unmistakably mountains,
but how far? I had Brennan, who drive most of the day, reset the trip odometer
so we could measure how far we go before we get to them. We get there almost
eighty miles later, and they are high mountains, some with snow patches. We are
still in the plains, with some of the mountains to our right and some to the left. The
altimeter now reads 6000 feet. We are at the base of the Rockies and already as high as any of the peaks east of the Mississippi. We are looking up at mountains,
some with peaks at 14,000 feet. The real impact of the Rockies is amplified by the long trek across the plains.
It helps you understand the feelings of the pioneers when they saw the mountains three or four days travel away.
We crossed La Vita Pass at 9413 feet. Our altimeter agrees with the roadside
sign. Finally, we approach Great Sand Dunes National Monument. The dunes look awesome at a distance, and more so as we got closer.
We set up camp in Pinion Flats CG in the park. At the Visitor Center, the ranger provides useful answers to our questions about possible ways to spend our short time here. He mentions that the campfire program tonight starts at 7:30 pm, earlier than the usual 9:00 pm, because
there are special guests doing a Mountain Man presentation. Brennan and Bob both
want to see it.
The Medano
Pass Primitive Road
sounds like it would take too long to attempt with the short time until the campfire program.
It is still too hot for a hike in the dunes, and not enough time to climb the highest dune and return. So we decide to do the hike up to Zapata
Falls, in the National Forest south of the park entrance. The ranger gave us a guide sheet that describes the hike and access road so we take
off in the Beast. The access road is four miles of washboard surface gravel uphill
torture. The vibration was so bad; it shook the boards on the luggage rack
loose. They have been there, held securely in place with bungee cords for the
entire trip. But now, two of them clunk on the roof, and we know from the sound
just what has happened. We stop and pull all four boards down and put them inside
the back of the Beast.
Then we look at the scenery. Wow!
There are several overlooks along the road as it gains altitude, and each one gives a new view of the Great Sand Dunes
to the north. The views alone are worth the trip up the road. The sun is getting lower and shadows are getting longer on the dunes, changing their appearance with each
look.
At the trail head, we grab both cameras and the tripod and start up the half mile trail to the falls. The unfamiliar thin air makes it a bit of work for us, but we keep going until we reach the level area
leading into the falls. What falls? We
see a good size stream coming from the cliffs up ahead, but don't see or hear a falls.
This is not your ordinary falls. It is recessed way back between canyon
walls that seem to join up above. You need to walk up the middle of the creek,
then up a six step ladder, and more creek walking into a cave opening in the side of the cliff soaring overhead.
The creek is just deep enough to spill it's water over the tops of hiking boots, and just chilly enough to relieve
the itching of our bug bitten ankles. Remember Pawnee Rocks way back there in
Kansas? Put bug
repellent on your ankles before you walk around in the grass in Kansas.
As we reach the cave entrance, we spot a baby bird sitting on a rock in
the middle of the swift running creek. It is just perched there, peeping away
like he doesn't belong there and doesn't know how to get out of there. Brennan
is concerned for the birdie. Bob just takes a picture of the birdie. We see what we believe to be Momma Birdie flying back and forth in the narrow canyon so we assume the she
will feed Birdie until he learns how to fly. We let nature take it's course and
go into cave, looking for the falls that we can now hear roaring inside. At the
base of the falls, we can see sky up through the curving canyon walls. The falls
begin up there somewhere. We can see part of the falls at least 70 feet up. The noise is so loud that we can't hear each other talk, or shout. We have to use sign language.
We return to the car, and
again the changing light makes the dunes and jagged Sangre de Christo Mountains photogenic.
By the time we get back to the amphitheater at the campground, the mountain men are already setting up, too late to
go cook dinner, so we fix and eat PB&J sandwiches and chips and drink canteen water.
I introduce myself to the two "Mountain Men" and ask if I can take pictures as they do their show. They agree, but I do not pull out Model Releases. I am not
that pushy yet. So I guess I am still an amateur photographer.
The show is very entertaining, funny, and informative, as they take turns explaining the life and work of the typical
early 1800's fur trappers. At the same time, behind them, God is putting on a
Sunset. In His usual style, it is breathtaking, and I take turns photographing
the mountain men and the sunset, the latter without asking His permission.
After the
show, back in the trailer, I write postcards, load film mailers, and while making today's entries in this journal, I remember
that at 5:30 am, when I was climbing around the closing trailer windows because of the rain, I had stubbed my toe, and I realize
that it has hurt all day. It is dark purple at the cuticle line. 
