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The Great Sand Dunes National Park, Colorado
We cooked our meal down the path in a illuminated information booth wary of the black bear warning. Cocktails and beer from a growler kept us in a false warmth whilst Dylan cooked. I made my first snowman under Sam’s watchful American gaze, starting with a small snowball then rolling it around in powder, it grew and grew. When I was finished Sam christened my snowman unworthy, it was really snowing in earnest; I was too lazy to improve upon it.
We then fled to the truck to eat, passing Sam’s deflated tent on the way through, he would be sleeping in the car that night. The path was illuminated by little solar powered lights, glowing feebly under a layer of snow, our footfalls crunched and crackled.
When we made the climb every footstep revealed a layer cake of sand and snow, wind blowing layer over layer. Scratching what appeared to be brownish sand revealed a gash of white. Hiking poles in hand we played like children writing messages and kicking powder in the air. There were less than a dozen of us on the dunes, the sun shone brilliantly and the wind only blew fearsly at the summit.
Once at the top we rolled and ran down the slope, taking it three times fast than up. We passed a whole convoy of dog’s and their owners on the way down, jackets done up snugly. Then a peanutbutter and “jelly” wrap at the picnic area before undertaking the massive drive to Denver.
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