By Jarek

Two days and three nights at Great Sand Dunes National Park was our first road trip as a family of four. We were excited but a little apprehensive, and sure enough there was a steep learning curve. Thanks to Kaylee and two forgiving children, we pulled through in the end to have a really good time.

The biggest lesson is for me to tailor my expectations to take the needs and capabilities of two small children into account. I still like to daydream my travel with pre-children ideals: lots of hiking, early start times, insouciance for the weather, flexibility on mealtimes, and only broad-brush planning and preparation. Any reader who has spent at least five minutes around a small child will probably be rolling his or her eyes at how easily I set myself up for disappointment, but there you are. Wishful thinking is a personal forte.

The start to our adventure was promising enough. The four-hour drive from Denver to Crestone is spectacular; I was repeatedly caught off guard by the majesty of the scenery. Given that Kaylee and I recently set ourselves the goal of hiking all of Colorado’s 14ers, we were delighted to see so many future hikes along the way.

The town of Crestone is quiet and full of character. With the boys and COVID we really didn’t go out much to see local sights or try local restaurants, but the cabin was cozy and perfect (A still asks when we can go back to our “wood house”) and the stars were everything they’re cracked up to be. Although Crestone is physically close to the dunefield, it’s about an hour’s drive from the entrance to the park. It would have been convenient to stay somewhere closer, but we loved that the town was nestled up against the mountains and so accepted the tradeoff.

That hour drive got us in trouble our first morning, however. First, construction on the two-lane highway had us idling for a few minutes, which gave me time to pull out my phone to look at Google Maps again. Suddenly I noticed a county road cutting across the big loop we were supposed to take. It hadn’t shown up when I initially planned our route, but there it was, just ahead…

Well, we all figured out how clever I was once the gravel road had become a dirt road and then the dirt road became a cow trail. Google made me do it.

Back to the original route we went, totally blowing whatever semblance of an early start the boys had been good enough to grant us. We arrived at the park easy enough after that, but I was eager to hit the trail before the sand got too hot. We parked and headed out, T in a backpack and A stamping along. Our goal: the aptly-named High Dune, highest in the field. Our path: traverse the dry riverbed for half a mile, then make for a ridge to navigate the hills and valleys of sand until you arrive 700 feet up from where you started. There is no demarcated trail; you hike as you wish.

Having hiked a bit in my life, I thought, “700 feet? That’s nothing. We can do it for sure!” Then we stood at the bottom looking up. That is a lot of sand. I squared my shoulders and set up, A plodding dutifully along.

It didn’t take long to realize that every step up in sand is also half a step back, and sinking in and struggling out again is so tiring, so fast. But it was the wind that really did us in. Necessary as the wind is to maintaining the dunes, stinging sand is no fun at all. As soon as we crested our first ridge, we were sand-blasted. It wasn’t quite painful for me, but the boys just wanted out of it. Some part of me stubbornly wanted to go on, but there was no way they would make it. By this point I was carrying A, who was burying himself in my chest to get out of the wind. Carrying him all the way up there in sand was beyond me even if he had been willing.

And so, defeated just a hundred feet off the ground, we turned back to the car for some lunch. We found a picnic site and parked, but A refused to get out of the car. “Fine,” we said. “Stay here and eat alone. We’re going outside and having fun while we eat.” By now, however, the wind had become general everywhere and we shivered at the picnic table in bitter silence, not willing to give A the satisfaction of being right.

This is the point in the story where I was most frustrated, feeling that the whole thing was a waste of time and money. It is also the point where things started getting better.

Not willing to give up completely, we located a trail along the foothills of the mountains overlooking the dunes. This had the advantages of a firm trail, no blowing sand, and panoramic views of the dunes. It didn’t take long for us all to start having fun, and A held true to form, hiking the whole one-mile trail on his own. The afternoon rescued the day and the trip was worth it again.

The next morning was even better. We drove a little deeper into the park, as far as cars can go without high clearance and 4WD. The hike from parking to the dunes was further than expected and the trail up and down little sand hills was tiring and slow with a four-year-old, but at last we arrived at the main attraction: the not-quite-dry riverbed. The water was shallow and cool, not cold, and the wide, sandy bed made a perfect playground for A and T alike. A could run and jump and dig and build castles and trenches, and T could crawl around and squelch and play. We climbed the closest dune and raced down with leaps and slides. It was a little slice of Colorado beach heaven.

So trip saved, adventures carried, lessons learned. Someday we’ll hike that High Dune, but until then, fun is still in the cards.