Dune

Time: 1330 HRS | Location: Kum & Go Checkout Line

Brandon, a register clerk at a local gas station, watched as I unloaded an assortment of snacks and beverages onto the counter in front of him. Brandon likely goes unnoticed by the many patrons that circulate through this noticeably-clean convenient store every day. He stands in contrast to his immaculate establishment. His untucked, wrinkled shirt has a small stain roughly two inches from his name tag. His hair is greasy and unkempt. His face is unshaven and easy to forget. He rarely makes eye contact.

I looked down at my protein bar, unsalted cashews, two cans of Celsius, Peanut M&Ms, and a couple gallons of water.

Brandon pulled out his scanner and made quick work of his task with an admirable proficiency. The seven items were scanned before I had time to reach for my wallet. While his appearance may give off the impression that he does not care about his job -- which he may not -- he sure is good at it. Brandon holstered his scanner with the unexpected swagger of a sheriff in the ol' west.

"Would you like a bag? It's ten cents," said Brandon.

....why would I waste ten cents on a bag... I thought to myself, blind to the irony that I just spent $7 on a tiny bag of cashews.

"I'll walk it out," I said confidently.

I took three steps and the bag of M&Ms hit the floor. I shot a shameful glance toward Brandon as I knelt down to pickup my candy, careful to not drop anything else. A clear window had emerged for him to jump in with a sly comment about the ten cent bag. He didn't say a word. I nodded before scurrying out the door.

I like Brandon. I think we're friends now.

Time: 1334 HRS | Location: driver's seat of my 4runner

Despite strategically eating lunch just before leaving the house, I reached for the M&Ms. They were meant to be an evening treat. "Only a couple," I said.

A couple turned to a small handful. Then a second handful.

"I cannot stop"

I tied-off the bag and threw it into the back seat. Out of reach and out of sight.

Time: 1700 HRS | Location: Great sand Dunes national park

Three-ish hours and two utterly meaningless podcasts later, I arrived at my destination.

Great Sand Dunes National Park (GSDNP) lies in the San Luis Valley of Colorado. In the otherwise featureless valley, the massive dune field sits at the foot of the Sangres de Cristo mountain range. It's out there. Very remote. Beautiful... starkly beautiful, but also slightly depressing. Perhaps it's the vast, open landscape. Or maybe it's the lack of nearby economic development. Whatever the reason, it evokes a strange feeling of sadness that juxtaposes the dune's natural beauty. It's an odd sensation. If you've ever been somewhere like this, you know exactly what I'm talking about. If not, you're missing out.

Anyway, my day was made when I pulled up to the gate. There was no one manning the entry, which meant I didn't have to pay the steep entry fee of $25. Very exciting stuff.

TIME: 1715 | LOCATION: GSDNP PARKING LOT

Families climbed into big SUVs to depart for the evening. Parents shouted at kids to get the sand off of their feet before getting into the cars (they didn't). Everyone was leaving for the day -- it seemed like I was the only one starting my journey.

The Jetboil sparked to life as the fuel ignited into a blue flame. While the water came to a boil, I finalized my gear prep for the evening ahead.

Headlamp. Tripod. Gloves. Puffer. Hat. Telephoto and wide angle lenses. Polarizing filters. Snacks. Extra batteries. More snacks.

I ripped open one of the dehydrated meals that I keep in my car-camping 'go box'. A quick sniff-check was followed by a check of the expiration date (yes... they expire). Smelled pretty awful, but not expired. I shrugged and poured the boiling water into the bag of chicken jambalaya. Fifteen minutes later, my slop -- I mean, dinner -- was ready. Down the hatch. I couldn't muster the courage to finish the meal (and it's 500 million grams of sodium).

TIME: 1740 | LOCATION: Dunes

After wading barefoot through Medano Creek, I made my way into the dunes. The deeper I went, the softer the sand became. The view from the parking lot gives a false impression that it's a quick jaunt to the nearest high point in the dunes. It is, indeed, a proper hike. For every two feet I'd climb, I'd slide down one. When I crested the first ridge line leading up to the top of the dune (aptly named High Dune), I was drenched in sweat.

No longer protected by the massive dune that I had been climbing, the dead air gave way to 20-50mph winds. And with that wind came sand... lots of sand. The aforementioned sweat served as a binding agent for the sand, and my arms, neck, and forehead soon resembled a snickerdoodle.

TIME: 1745 | LOCATION: High Dune

A family was about 30 yards ahead of me, making their way across the ridge line. Using the ridge as a leading line, I snapped a few photos of them. Their silhouettes offered a bit of depth and context to the scene that I found appealing. I climbed higher and more of the dunes were visible to me. Miles of peaks, troughs, and steep walls of sand. After experiencing how difficult it had been climbing this single dune, the dunefield was now far more intimidating. It felt like I could be swallowed by the sand and completely forgotten.

I caught up to the family who was hiking ahead of me -- a father, mother, son, and girlfriend. A conversation began. To celebrate the mother's 60th birthday, they were backpacking into the dunes to spend a night in the sand. I couldn't hide my look of astonishment. I was impressed. I asked for the son's (Peter) email, with the intention of sharing the photos I'd taken of them. A few weeks later I got in touch with him -- I was happy they made it out alive and proud that those photographs can serve as a keepsake for their family. Moments like that are pretty cool.

Another hiker's silhouette caught my eye. Another few photos taken. We crossed paths some minutes later and talked for awhile. He was tall, about 6'1" with sandy brown hair. He had a big smile and disarming brown eyes. Nice kid. He just turned 21 and was commemorating the milestone with a solo road trip across the country in his old car, visiting national parks and family along the way. I don't remember what kind of car it was, but I like to imagine it was a '96 Subaru Outback... it seems right. I pointed to the camera hanging around his neck and asked what he was shooting. He told me that he purchased the analog (film) Canon, maybe an AE-1, before his trip and had no real clue what he was doing with it. I smiled, remembering some of the first trips I'd taken with a camera in hand (like a camping trip in Utah, where I left my camera on top of our rental car and proceeded to drive away at 30mph... the little Sony survived its impact with the asphalt). I asked about his plans. He, too, was camping in the dunes tonight. I looked him up and down. Carrying just a JanSport backpack, he seemed wildly underprepared for the occasion. I wished him good luck and we parted ways. When I turned around a moment later to get his name and contact info, he was far beyond shouting distance. I couldn't help thinking of that kid and his trip for the next few days -- hope it was memorable for him.

TIME: 1815 | LOCATION: HIGH DUNE

I spent the next two hours completely alone, exploring the high ridge lines and letting the light develop. As the sun got lower to the horizon, the landscape took on a new character. Shadows. Textures. Shapes. Color. Constantly changing in the fleeting light. I challenged myself to try and take distinct images. To go beyond my normal comfort zone and create unique compositions, using only the landscape and natural light. I found this to be extremely rewarding. The most difficult part of this experience, however, was the constant wind and sand. It made it nearly impossible to change lenses -- something I was constantly wanting to do. Needing to do.

TIME: 2035 | LOCATION: DUNEs

The sun gave me one last sliver of golden light before slipping behind a mountain range far in the distance. Blue hour took hold. I couldn't help but think how perfect the light would be for portraiture. As I hiked down from the high dunes, I no longer felt the bite of the wind and sand. I took my time going down, pausing frequently. I tried to notice the small details -- smells, sounds, wildlife, and plants. As the light began to fade, I dawned a headlamp and found a soft place to lay down on the side of a small dune. I laid on my back, looking up at the night sky. A few stars dotted the otherwise inky blue canvas. I set a timer on my watch for 15 minutes, closed my eyes, and fell asleep. Every time the alarm would chime, I'd wake up and look at the stars. "Needs more time," I'd say, before falling back to sleep.

An hour had passed when I woke up with a chill. It was cold and getting colder. I slipped on my down jacket and hunkered against the sand, which was still warm from the day's sun.

TIME: 2200 | LOCATION: DUNES

My watch chirped and I opened my eyes to the night sky above. I felt like I could see every star in the cosmos. This is what I'd been waiting for. I grabbed my tripod and setup my camera for some long exposures. The sky had me completely enthralled. Stars. Satellites (shoutout Elon). The Milky Way. Planets. Meteorites that streamed across the sky in quick flashes of light.

Photograph, walk, compose another image, repeat.

While preparing to move to a new spot, I noticed the rear screen of my camera displaying the most recent photo. I saw bright streaks of green and purple across the night sky -- aurora borealis? No fucking way. Was I losing my mind? Was my camera tweaking out? I set down the tripod and hit the shutter for another 20 second exposure. The shutter snapped closed. There it was again -- streaks of color across the sky. I was astonished. While this was my first time seeing northern lights (I missed the crazy solar event earlier this year), I knew that they may not last long. As the lights danced softly in the sky above, I worked quickly to compose a few images that I felt satisfied with. I wondered whether the backpackers I met were awake and seeing this. I sure hope so.

TIME: 0030 | LOCATION: DUNES

I reached into my pack and grabbed the bag of Peanut M&Ms. I ate a small handful as I sat alone in the sand. I was exhausted and needed to hike out.

I had to cross about a half mile of dunes before reaching the flat section of sand, Medano creek, and, eventually, the parking lot. Even with a headlamp on, I found that my spatial awareness and depth perception were extremely degraded in these rolling hills of sand. The lack of distinguishing features on the soft hillsides played tricks on my eyes. A small dune would appear to be 2-3x closer than it actually was. I tripped, a lot, but made it back to the car in one piece. I fought to keep my eyes open during the 20 minute drive to a stretch of nearby public land. I needed somewhere that I could legally park and sleep for a few hours before returning to the park for sunrise.

TIME: 0516 | LOCATION: Boondocking somewhere south of the dunes

My sleeping bag was warm and comforting. I felt groggy as I stuck my head outside and took a breath of pre-dawn air. Deep sleep had come quickly the night before, and the morning's darkness was cold and unwelcoming. I slipped on some layers without leaving my sleeping bag -- an impressive display of flexibility and laziness. I could now exit the tent in comfort.

I broke down camp, fired up the Jetboil, and made a quick cup of coffee. Five minutes later, I was driving back to the park.

I found a good vista that offered a decent composition on the long lens. It wasn't quite the sunrise I'd hoped for, but it'll do in a pinch for a sleep deprived traveler hoping to make it home for lunch.

TIME: 0740 | LOCATION: Salida, CO

The bell above the door rattled as I entered the coffee shop. The cafe was warm and quiet, and the smell of freshly toasted bread and dark roast coffee filled the room. The only customer was a middle-aged man who sat alone at a small, circular table. He sipped coffee before taking the last bite of a scone, then crumbled his used napkin onto a small plate littered with crumbs. He didn't look up from the glossy outdoors magazine he was reading. I assumed he was a local.

The wood floors creaked as I walked toward the counter. "Be right with you," the barista said over the whir of the La Marzocco. I needed caffeine and food. I grabbed a water from the fridge, ordered an expensive coffee (worth it), a decent-looking breakfast burrito (anything was better than that chicken jambalaya), and a couple of baked goods. I looked down at the items on the counter, then back at the barista.

"Would you like a small bag?" he asked.

I thought of Brandon and the M&Ms 20 hours earlier.

"I think thats a good idea."