Sunday started out as another beautiful day. It was sunny and warm with a slight breeze blowing through the valley. We had plans to make a few minor renovations to the van before heading out to the Great Sand Dunes National Park with our hosts and good friends, Matt and Christo. It would be my first time visiting the park, and Keller’s first National Park ever. Of course, being the mom that I am, I made a big deal of this. I peppered him with comments about the mountains of sand, sandboarding, and a creek with foot tall waves – all with the hope of making him more eager for the trip. He dressed himself that morning in sweat pants, long sleeves, and hiking boots – not the best way to dress for the days events, but there was no changing his mind. He took pride in dressing himself.

After morning chores (mostly done by the guys while I soaked up the sun and lost myself in a book), we loaded up the car with water, snacks and our dusty dog and made our way to the park. Our first stop was the visitors center. As we opened our car doors we were immediately blasted with strong, chilling winds- not what we had prepared for or expected. We ran inside to escape the cold and give ourselves a history lesson on the sacred dunes, hoping the winds would die down in the meantime.

(The massive mounds of sand were formed over tens of thousands of years by southwest winds blowing exposed sand toward the Sangre de Cristo mountains. Truly, a wonder of the world.)

Once we realized the weather wasn’t going to give in anytime soon, we decided to load back up into the car and head toward the dunes anyway. We scavenged the car for all the layers of clothing we could find. Digging through backpacks and the trunk, we came up with a couple of flannels, one fleece pullover, and a rain jacket for each of us. Keller swapped his boots for sandals and I chose to stick with the boots I was wearing, throwing my Chacos in my pack just in case.

All layered up, we headed toward the creek. There we found people playing in the sand and in the water (a product of the snow runoff from the mountaintops), barefoot or in some type of sandal as if they were oceanside rather than The Center of Nowhere, US. Everyone stuck their toes in, testing it before the mandatory crossing to the dunes. Still, I decided to keep my boots on to cross. The water didn’t seem so high and my boots were waterproof anyways. I loaded Keller up on my back (he wasn’t a huge fan of the icy body of water), and started crossing. Not even three feet into the wide stretch to the other side, a surge of water came halfway up my calves and flooded my boots. So much for that idea. I continued across, my wet, cold socks squishing beneath my feet. Not a big deal, I had extra shoes for reasons such as this. I figured once across, I’d just swap my boots out and problem solved.

When we made it across the wind seemed to be even stronger than before, making it difficult for us to communicate with one another. Keller hopped off my back and ran toward the dunes, clearly in awe of what he was seeing. Me, Cash, Matt, and Christo followed behind. The closer we got to the dunes, the windier it got. “Know what I didn’t even think about?” I yelled up ahead, “The sand stinging your legs?” One of my friends called back, obviously feeling my pain. Still, just a little sting. Again, no big deal. Shorts weren’t the wisest choice in attire, but I’d dealt with much worse. At least I thought.

Now Keller was getting much further ahead. The sand didn’t seem to bother him, as he just so happened to have dressed much more appropriately than the rest of us. I called to him and yelled to him, but he never turned around. The wind was too loud and drowned out every attempt I made.

The further in we walked, the stronger and more persistant the stinging of the sand became. Up ahead, I saw Matt motioning for me to take my backpack off and lower it behind my legs. I did, but this wasn’t enough to keep the pelting sand away. Seeming to be in sync, we all fell to our knees and ducked our heads, covering our faces. The stinging had become so intense that we couldn’t go on. I now felt as if skin was being ripped from my legs. I continued to call to Keller, thinking he had no idea what was going on, his pants and long sleeves masking the pain. When I looked up to call again, he was walking backward toward me. The closer he got, the more I realized I was wrong. He was feeling it – and feeling it all. I heard him screaming and crying for me. It was terrifying. If you’re a parent, you know the difference between a “boo-boo” cry and a shrilling cry of pain and terror. This was the latter. My heart sank.

I ran to him through the sand, grabbed him and pulled him into my chest and blocked him from the wind and sand, holding on as tight as possible. My friends immediately followed suit, lining up behind us attempting to form a wall protecting me and Keller from the elements. At this point, we all silently agreed we had to get out of there. It was only getting worse. Matt took my backpack and handed me his rainjacket to drape over Keller’s exposed feet and face. Christo took Cash’s leash from me so I could focus all of my attention on my horrified child.

We decided the only way out was to walk backward as fast as we could toward the creek. This meant more exposure to the sand. I picked Keller up in my arms and attempted to walk backward, guided by my incredible friends. Only making it a couple of feet, I had to immediately fall back down to my knees. I didn’t think I could do it. Someone is going to have to come to get me or I am going to lay here in the sand until the storm is gone. “Come on, only twenty more feet,” I heard in my ear. With Keller still screaming and curled into my chest, I got up off of my knees again and walked backward counting my steps. This was NOT twenty feet. I stopped, fell back to the ground, and attempted to catch my breath. I could see Christo carrying my 90lb fur child in his arms. These guys could have long been back across the creek, but they chose to stay with me and Keller, ensuring we would make it. These are good people.

Once more, I stood up. This time I wasn’t going to stop until I reached the water. Walking as fast as I could, I took one deep breath after the other. Still being guided by Matt, we reached the creek. With the stinging beginning to subside, I set Keller down beside the water to catch my breath again, but he was still screaming in terror. We still had to get across the water. For the last time, I pulled him to my chest and dodged through the creek. I paid no attention to the depth or the surges that were coming through, something I had carefully watched as I crossed before. I went straight through a deep current, almost being knocked off of my feet multiple times, but I held steady. We made it.

While walking back to the car I stopped to finally take off my waterlogged boots. I unlaced them, pulled them off of my feet, and turned them upside down sending cups of water splashing onto the ground beside me. I stared down at my legs expecting to see blood or streaks of deep red wounds covering them. Nothing. There was nothing. I won’t pretend like I wasn’t a little pissed that after all the drama, I had nothing to show for it. It was brutal.

I don’t think any of us said much to one another right away about what had just happened. I honestly don’t think any of us really knew what had just happened. Our silent walk back to the car was enough. But once we loaded back up to head toward camp, I couldn’t help but to immediately blast “Sandstorm” through the cars speakers in attempt to lighten the mood. It was over. We were out. And we cursed the dunes the whole way home.

Regardless of our first experience, I definitely want to go back to visit under better circumstances and with a little more preparation. However, it’s going to take me a long time to convince Keller to go anywhere near those mountains of sand again. For now, I’ll check this National Park off of my list. ✅