A Colorado State of Mind: The Tao of The Valley

Racing through the endless expanse of the San Luis Valley is like finding a remote portal into space. You don't know quite where you are going, but the general sensation is that it will be somewhere fantastic and otherworldly. This suspicion is further validated by nearby attractions in the valley such as an UFO watchtower and Colorado Gator Farm. This is a place that pulls me in, providing repair and rejuvenation to my spirit. I need this place.

It may be impossible to accurately describe the sensation of the San Luis Valley, but once you experience it, it would be impossible to forget. Imagine a valley flat and endless to the north and south, bordered on the east and west by towering mountain ranges that appear to rise from nothingness. It's not surprising that people have been spotting UFO's in this region for decades; the visibility in the cool valley at night in this high altitude desert region, away from any light or city pollution, is unmatched.

A visit to the valley is not complete without a trek through the Great Sand Dunes National Park and Preserve. Located roughly 16 miles east from the impossibly straight CO Route 17, the dunes tower up from the valley floor in grand style. We arrived at the gate on a lost October afternoon, not a cloud or person in site, other than the ranger who collected our $3 entrance fee. We paid with a five dollar bill and were given a two dollar bill as change. This exchange provided enough for conversation with the lonely but friendly ranger for a couple of minutes, ending with his well wishes. "Isn't receiving a $2 bill considered good luck?" my husband asked. Exactly 1 hour later, after a stop at the visitor center and well on our way to trek up to the tallest dune his question was answered. Amazed that we even had cell phone service and surrounded by dunes in all directions, he answered the call and agreed to a job interview the following Monday. This was the interview that led to a job offer and ultimately his move to Colorado. I often have wondered if it was the magic, magnetic pull of the dunes and San Luis Valley that ultimately sealed his fate and destiny to move.

That evening we left the cooling dunes as the sun edged its way below the mountains. We again raced through the endless valley roads, on our way to Crestone, a small town at the dead end of a road that seems to stop merely because if it continued it would run into a mountainside. Crestone, population 73, is a sort of hodgepodge of religious and spiritual centers, a mix of new age and Eastern cultures with an underlying "hippie-ness" and when you dig even deeper, a layer of authentic Coloradoan mining history. We arrived just as it was getting dark and, in deep contrast to the 60 degree sun from the afternoon- cold. The dry, frigid mountain air smelled of the positively addicting woodiness of burning piñon firewood. Crestone is a sleepy town without street lights. As we stepped out of our rental the view of the Milky Way streaking across the sky was as dazzling as it was dizzying.

We walked to the Laughing Buddha, the only place in town with a pulse on a Friday night. Entering through the swinging saloon doors, it was one of those odd what type of alternative universe did I just walk into kind of place. A disco ball glittered the room with lights that the patrons- a mix of inebriated zombies, witches, and wizards already dressed for Halloween, large but well behaved dogs, and a scattering of the ubiquitous Coloradoan in cowboy hat and boots, socialized under. We committed the ultimate sin of ordering a red meat hamburger at a hippie joint- an order of the which the pierced and dreadlocked female bartender, reeking of hemp and patchouli, seemed less than thrilled to place. The burger killed my theory that a good meal could be found in even the smallest of Colorado dive bars, however the pints of local microbrews did not fail to satisfy.

In the early morning we nursed waters and unbelievably aromatic cups of coffee at the Lotus Cafe. The locals spoke of last night's festivities and their plans for the upcoming evening. A young local man and self proclaimed cat lover who proudly announced he had not left town in weeks entered the cafe with four healthy kittens nestled in a blanket in a cardboard box. Within 10 minutes he had all but one sold (the last kitten was his favorite and was not to be going home with anyone but him). Crestone is that kind of place, existing by living according to its own rules and on its own watch.