The Hitchhiker. Trois.
The Great Sand Dunes are EXTRAordinary. They contain the tallest sand dunes in North America, reaching 750 feet on the western base of the Sangre de Cristo mountain range. The dunes are under constant change due to the high winds blowing through the San Luis Valley. Digging only a few inches into the sand, reveals water which carries a tide. By standing in a shallow area of sand, you can experience this phenomenon by allowing the tide to rise and fall as it slowly creeps past your ankles before being washed away again. Jacques and I can honestly tell you that this is awesome!
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| Our view as we entered the National Great Sand Dunes Park. Extraordinary! |
If you have ever been on a beach, you know very well how hot the sand can heat from the direct sunlight it absorbs throughout the day. The Dunes are no exception, making hiking boots a requirement for the hike. As we prepared ourselves for the hike, Jacques questioned his ability to make it to the top. Like many French, he smoked cigarettes whenever he could, allowing his lungs to fall victim to the carcinogens he inhaled. The Dunes had humbled his body into thinking he was unfit for the journey, the first weakness I had witnessed of him. Through a little reassurance along with a "nudge", he decided to at least try. Afterall, we had just driven the entire morning in hopes of eventually conquering the peaks of the Great Sand Dunes.
The moment we stepped foot onto the sand to begin the treacherous hike to the top, a raindrop fell and caused the sand to become displaced like a tiny meteor. That single raindrop did not come alone and the clouds became dark. Most of the hikers passed us, already headed in the opposite direction to take shelter from the inevitable storm.
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| Drop by drop, the rain continued to fall. |
The rain wasn't able to prevent our bold courage, as we pressed onward. The rain was however able to quicken our steps as we saw the peaks towering in the distance. With only one objective, the wind relentlessly lifted the sand to pelt our faces. We put one foot in front of the other; each step taking us closer to the top.
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| I ran ahead of Jacques to capture this moment. |
The rain and gray cloud coverage provided some relief as the direct sun would have burned a hole directly to our soul without them. We made it to the first peak, what we initially thought to be THE peak. Perception can be deceiving. The rain continued to fall and the wind continued to blow. It was at that moment that I first heard it...the melody that I would recall years later. Jacques began humming a tune to a French melody. I can hear it now even as I write, and it encourages me still to continue my march to the top. The tune sounded just as my stamina began to dwindle, as though I had subliminally told Jacques exactly what I needed and he responded without a word spoken. Had we been together that long that we were able to speak without words? Perhaps it isn't length of time which is the requirement for subliminal communication, but instead the quality of the time spent together.
To be continued...
