Red flag and high wind warning signs greeted me on the drive up the 9426-foot elevation of La Veta Pass to the Great Sand Dunes National Park in Colorado.
Feeling weary and exhausted after driving the past ten hours but excited to be within two hours of my destination. Acutely aware, the van was being pushed hard from the south on the lonely east-west highway along the foothills of southeastern Colorado, encountering over-turned semis in ditches.
The sun was hot and bright as I started up the pass. With brute force, the wind gusts were fast and repeatedly slammed into the van. Keeping a firm grip on the wheel was critical, so I would not be thrown off the road alongside them.
When things change inside you, things change around you.
Since I hadn’t driven in the mountains in a while, a brief feeling of panic, wondering if the van could handle the elevation, came over me. GPS indicated that the drive to the top would take about 30 minutes.
My feeling of well-being grew with each upward mile until the highway climbed steeper, making me think I would fall backward. In my mind, time seemed to be in slow motion as I powered on, rising to the top, fighting against the sustained wind of 45 mph, which seemed to push me as if its main job was to keep me from reaching my intended location.
Switchbacks in the road indicated the summit was close. My eyes felt swollen and dry, and my arms and hands were cramping from battling the wind. Then it came; the top of the pass. Immediately relieved to have made it, I began to relax.
Getting There
The relentless wind continued but seemed even more intense now that I was on the west side of the mountain pass. Needing a mental break, stopping to regain my composure in Fort Garland, I found out sustained winds of 50 mph and gusts of 60 – 100 mph were forecast for the next couple of days for all of Colorado. The journey continued.
Vision restricted, the landscape was obscured by dust and sand as it might be with fog in the midwest. Reaching the Great Sand Dunes Lodge, I felt solace to be there but wondered if it was really safe to stay.
Perched on the western side of North Zapata Ridge, the outpost includes a restaurant, small store, twenty campsites and a small one-story motel. After opening the van door in the parking lot, a vicious wind gust snatched the van door from my hand, knocking me aside. Happy the door was still hinged, I made my way to the store.
The Lodge
Alana, an owner of the Lodge, had an easy way about her and seemed to float between anxious customers as she answered questions and rang up their purchases. I overheard discussions about what to expect with the winds – it didn’t sound good. It would be more of the same for the next 3-5 days. Answering my questions, she sensed my fear and did her best to bring me comfort.
Having registered, I decided to try it one night, hoping the wind would miraculously diminish overnight. Sitting in the van on site number 18, contemplating my situation, and reviewing my decision, I broke down.
After twelve hours of driving, the elevation, probable dehydration despite drinking more than a gallon of water over the day, and now the hard realization that I drove here to hike and explore for a few days, it probably wasn’t going to happen.
Calling my brother, who lives in Colorado Springs, helped me decide to stay the night. I needed rest, and really, what was the worst that could happen – the wind would overturn my van?
Watching the wind whip around for a bit longer and one family pack up and leave, I noticed only five other campers left. To gain some additional protection, I asked to move to a site that would allow me to tuck in beside a larger rig. It seemed to be better until the wind shifted – resigned now; this would be my experience for the next 12 hours.
After what seemed to be hours and hours of relentless rocking, I thought I’d try repositioning the van again. In a bit of sleep-deprived delirium, at 2 AM, I moved the van a couple of feet forward and then back to bed, only to find a marginal difference.
At 4 AM, I decided it was simply not worth fussing with the weather, so I started my day. Peering into the dark while listening to the wind was eerie, and the gusts brought strange noises as they swept up the mountain. It had me imagining what a snowstorm would be like here in winter.
Check out day two of this adventure HERE
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Kirsti Out Wandering aspires to illustrate well-being in mind, body & spirit, giving unconditional love to self and others, and pursuing all of the wild possibilities life serves up while living full-time from a sprinter van.
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