If I was any luckier, I'd have to be twins, a friend of ours often says. That's just about how I feel today, Day #71of our "365 Parks in 365 Days" adventure. It gives me inexpressible pleasure to share today's guest guide with you, our friend Gillian Bowser, Ph.D. We first met the longtime ecologist with the National Park Service at a conference in Colorado 1997. We went hiking with her and members of the Beckwourth Mountain Club up to Ouzel Falls. Before we left the parking lot she checked to make sure each of us was properly clothed and shod. "In case there's an emergency it would take eight of us to bring someone Audrey's size down the trail," she warned us, "so we want to make sure to prevent emergencies." 

 A herd of elk skitters across the horizon in Great Sand Dunes National Park & Preserve.

As we progressed up the mountain she showed us what berries were good to eat and sampled them with childlike enthusiasm. The last person had just made it to the top and sat down to eat lunch when Gillian looked at the gray clouds gathering over a distant mountain and politely but firmly insisted that everyone start back down the trail. She said the clouds were a harbinger of snow. By the time we got back to the base of the trail, it was raining, the temperature had noticeably dropped, and a couple that had been camping up in the mountains told us they got caught in a snowstorm.

 
Drs. Gillian Bowser (l), Carolyn Finney and I got together at the National Parks Centennial Commission meeting in Knoxville, TN, 2009.

A professor at Colorado State University, today she takes us on the job with her conducting research in the Great Sand Dunes National Park and Preserve. You can see she's also a great photographer from the images she shares!

"'The problem with sand,' my companion says, 'is this amazing ability to make even the heaviest truck swim.' He pauses and we both watch for a while as the engine whines, the gears groan, and all four wheels spin in place. 'The root cause of the problem, with sand that is,' he continues with a sigh, reaching behind the back seat and pulling out a shovel,' is the Prometheus effect. The more we shovel, the further stuck that truck will get and the more sand we will then have to move.' The sky is an aching blue and the day cold so our task of shoveling the research truck stuck in front of us is not as arduous as it could otherwise be.

 "The Great Sand Dunes National Park and Preserve is nestled in between the arms of the Sangre de Cristo Mountains of southern Colorado. An odd combination of sand and mountains where the tallest sand dunes in North America are created by sand blowing across Colorado, hitting the curved mountain range and then getting trapped and transported back down the valley by Medano Creek. These dynamics define a restlessness that moves with water, carves beautiful ice and snow sculptures and creates a majestic field of dunes that arches hundreds of feet above the valley floor.

  

              Mildly curious bison ambles by, wearing a crown of thorns. 

  Sandhill cranes congregate in the valley to fatten up before their long spring migration.

"It takes a second vehicle and the park geologist to dig the buried truck out of the sand and we continue to our research site on the backside of the sand dunes with Crockett Peak rising at the end of the valley to over 13000 feet-a startling contrast to the endless sand around us. The Park was first established as a national monument in 1936 encompassing the dunes themselves and part of Medano creek. In 2000, under the Clinton Administration, the park was expanded to be the 57th National Park and a National Preserve that included parts of the valley walls, parts of the Medano Ranch and the main ground water supply including the network of artesian wells, most long since abandoned or broken leaking water in large pools. Under the new park's legislation, these wells were to be capped and as our truck struggles in the sand by our first well site, a large group of elk skitters across the horizon-evidence of these wells being gathering places for wildlife.

"This brings us back to our truck buried deep in the sand. Colorado State University is assisting the park with determining the impact of closing artificial water sources on biodiversity in the sand dunes. While the study itself is part of a Masters degree in science for our student driver (who is also learning how not to drive on sand), my interest as the faculty advisor on the project is in educating underrepresented students in the science behind the management of national parks. Public lands, such as the Great Sand Dunes National Park and Preserve critical laboratories of learning for future scientists and stewards.

"These future stewards need to reflect the face of the American public and our young Hispanic student is representative of both that face of future stewards, but also the face of past stewards of San Luis Valley when the Spanish gave land to the original Mexican families as ranches-some of those family's descendants ranch the valley to this day. National Parks are reflective of this dual function of introducing a young student to science while reconnecting her with her own Hispanic heritage. Discovery, science and heritage are all rolled up together and deeply connected as our student struggles to drive her four wheel drive truck down the same path between wells that Mexican ranchers drove donkeys and mules almost 100 years earlier.

"Public lands are unique in this dual function of celebrating heritage, science, and ecology all at once and students exploring ecology within the boundaries of a national park learn not just the science of ecology itself, but also the management of resources, the cultural heritage, and the importance of providing science to managers that addresses park needs. Students studying the dynamics of small mammals learn about the endemic kangaroo mouse or the ubiquitous field mouse. And while trapping these animals, we stumble across an ancient burial site with scattered fragments of arrowheads and spears-indicative of the long traditional Ute presence on the land. Witness trees carved through the valley bear silent testimony to the valley's original inhabitants.

"A pair of sandhill cranes flies overhead, calling to each other as they survey our vehicles moving slowly across the sand sheet spitting up small waves of sand behind each wheel. Sandhill cranes congregate in the valley using fallow agricultural fields to refuel during their long spring migration. Visitors and avid bird watchers come to the valley each year to watch tens of thousands of the largest cranes in North America. With a wingspan of nearly six feet, the sandhill crane is an iconic bird for the San Luis Valley and highlights the dichotomy of managing an area for both the migratory species as well as the visitors viewing those species and providing economic input to tourism revenues in the valley.

"The sun is setting over the Sangre de Cristo range and Mount Blanca is brushed with rose-colored light. Our trapping is done and the vehicles begin their sliding dance home for an evening watching a velvety black sky filled with stars in a dizzying array. As one of the darkest skies in North America, the stars are so bright that we see shadows on the sand and the tracings of night wanderers. The sand will dance its restless dance all night so by the morning our tracks will be blown over. As we venture out once again on the dunes in the early morning, tires sliding in deep sand and engine protesting the low gear, the dunes have already forgotten our presence the day before and small animals leave footprints over newly brushed sand."

   If you've missed any of our "365 Parks in 365 Days" adventures, find them here (Archive) 

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