Colorado Adventure: Road Trip Through Great Sand Dunes National Park

Here’s the thing nobody tells you about sand: it gets everywhere. I mean everywhere; like that ex you keep seeing at Trader Joe’s, sand lingers for days.

So if you’re picturing this Colorado road trip as some ethereal, sand-free experience, let’s set expectations (and maybe pack extra baby wipes).

But you’re here for the wild stuff; the kind of adventure that messes your hair and reminds you you’re gloriously, messily alive.

1. Climbing Star Dune: The Tallest Dune in North America

Ever looked at a mountain of sand and thought, “Why not?” That’s Star Dune; a 750-foot behemoth that turns your thighs to jelly and makes you question your cardio choices. Every step up is like an awkward first date: slow, a little painful, but you keep going because you know there’s a story at the top.

The trek is about six miles round-trip, so don’t wear your fashion sneakers unless you want blisters as a souvenir. I once saw a couple try hiking it barefoot. They made it twenty minutes before their dignity gave out: don’t be them. Bring water, real shoes, and maybe a little internal pep talk.

When you finally crest the summit, it’s quiet in the way only wind and heartbeats can be. The view sprawls: mountains, valleys, and more sand than you thought possible. For one shining, sandy moment, you feel both totally insignificant and weirdly invincible. That’s Star Dune for you.

2. Sandboarding and Sand Sledding: Channel Your Inner Child (Or Daredevil)

You know those viral videos where people eat it spectacularly on sleds? This is your chance to join their ranks; except here, the sand is soft enough to forgive you. Sandboarding and sand sledding are basically snow sports for those of us allergic to cold and dignity.

Rent your gear in Alamosa and haul it up the slopes. The way down is pure, shrieking joy. I wiped out twice on my first run. The sand got in places I didn’t know I had. But every tumble came with laughter I hadn’t felt since grade school.

Honestly, you’ll look ridiculous and love every second. The best part? No one is there to judge, because everyone’s more focused on not face-planting themselves. By the end, you’ll discover that letting go of looking cool is half the fun.

3. Splashing in Medano Creek: Grown-up Version of Jumping in Puddles

Picture this: it’s May, your feet are hot, and suddenly you hear giggles drifting from Medano Creek. It’s not just for kids; splashing here is pure, brain-resetting joy. The water’s cold enough to snap you out of an existential spiral, but shallow enough you won’t totally lose circulation.

I watched a dad try to build a sand castle while his toddler just destroyed it with every wave: iconic, honestly. Adults wade in, try to look composed, then inevitably start splashing each other. It’s the kind of simple, silly fun we forget we’re allowed to have.

Bring a camp chair and people-watch, or cannonball in like you’re eight again. Either way, you’ll strip away a little stress with every splash. Medano Creek is a permission slip for joy, no matter how grown-up you pretend to be.

4. Stargazing: The Universe, Unfiltered

Remember those glow-in-the-dark stars you stuck to your ceiling as a kid? Real stars are so much wilder. At Great Sand Dunes, the sky does this deep, velvety black thing and then explodes into constellations. On a clear night, the Milky Way is not just visible; it’s so bright, you’ll double-check your contacts.

I once made the mistake of bringing my phone, thinking I’d capture it. Spoiler: the pictures sucked. The memory, though (planetarium-level awe mixed with a weird sense of safety in the dark) stuck around long after.

There’s a quiet confidence you feel staring at those stars, surrounded by nothing but sand and possibility. You’re small, sure, but also somehow the center of your own galaxy. If you’ve got a big question, this is where you ask it.

5. Off-Roading Medano Pass: For When You Need to Shake Out the Cobwebs

Sometimes you have to rattle your bones to remember you’re alive. Driving Medano Pass Primitive Road is for those moments. It’s bumpy, wild, and occasionally terrifying in a way that makes your heart race and your playlist sound better.

The road is 22 miles of sand, streams, and spots where you’ll question your life choices (and your car’s warranty). I once got stuck and had to be pulled out by a stranger who turned out to be a retired clown. We swapped stories while waiting for tow ropes; life’s weird like that.

Bring snacks, a sense of humor, and do not attempt it in a sedan. The satisfaction of making it through? The kind of pride you only feel after conquering something slightly reckless, and living to tell the tale.

6. Zapata Falls: Hidden Water, Unexpected Chill

Some places make you earn the reveal; Zapata Falls is one of those. You hike, you wade, you get your ankles cold and maybe slip on a rock. But then, through the narrow canyon, the waterfall erupts out of nowhere. It’s loud, cold, and somehow private; like your own secret concert.

I once met a woman here who dunked her head under the falls. She screamed, then laughed until she cried, and said it was the best reset she’d had in years. There’s something about icy water that makes you let go of whatever you walked in carrying.

If you want to feel alive, go early or late for the least crowds. And yes, your feet will go numb, but the bragging rights last way longer than the chill.

7. Horseback Riding: Saddle Up Your Inner Cowgirl

You don’t have to be a horse girl to enjoy this; though if you grew up reading Black Beauty, it helps. There’s something about sitting high in the saddle, sand stretching for days, the breeze in your hair, that channels an untapped wildness.

Zapata Ranch offers rides through dreamy landscapes with guides who drop facts and stories like trail mix. I once rode alongside a woman celebrating her divorce; her laughter carried farther than our horses. There’s healing, power, and just a smidge of drama in every hoofbeat.

If you’re lucky, your horse will pick up speed and you’ll realize you’re grinning, not from thrill but from remembering what freedom feels like. For a few hours, you’re part of this old, dusty saga. And it looks good on you.

8. Fat Biking: Why Walk When You Can Roll?

Fat bikes look kind of ridiculous until you see what they can do. Those huge tires let you float over sand where regular bikes would sink, and honestly, it’s like cheating at physics. The first time I tried it, I laughed so hard I nearly fell off.

You can rent one in Alamosa, then hit Medano Pass or other sandy trails (it’s allowed only on designated sandy roads and trails, not the dunes themselves). Don’t expect to go fast; instead, settle into the gentle rhythm and let your mind wander. Every bump and slide is a reminder that being a little off-balance makes things interesting.

You’ll pass others slogging on foot, but don’t gloat, just give a wave and a wink. Life’s more fun when you find a new way to move through it. Bonus: you’ll feel like a kid with a brand-new toy.

9. Wildlife Viewing: Where the Locals Keep It Weird

The animals here know the park better than any guide ever could. Early morning or dusk, you might spot bighorn sheep scaling slopes like it’s no big deal, or hear sandhill cranes calling overhead. There’s a low-key thrill in knowing you’re outnumbered by creatures who’ve called this home much longer than you.

I once watched a bear shuffle through the brush, totally ignoring me. The rush was real: my heart pounding, camera shaking, every sense awake. It’s like the universe’s way of saying, “Hey, pay attention.”

If you slow down and stay quiet, you’ll see more than you expect: foxes, deer, maybe a coyote’s fleeting shadow. The wild isn’t always showy, but it’s always honest. You leave remembering what it feels like to be part of the food chain.

10. Photography: Snap the Surreal, Not Just the Selfie

Ever notice how the dunes change with every hour? Sunrise throws pink and orange across them; sunset gives you blues and purples. My favorite shot was after a rainstorm; raindrops making polka dots on the sand, the sky still moody.

You don’t need fancy gear. Sometimes the best pictures happen when you’re laughing at your windblown hair or snapping a friend mid-wipeout. It’s not about perfect composition, but about catching those moments that feel a little unreal.

If you crave drama, get up before the sun or wait for golden hour. The best part? Your photos will never look like anyone else’s. The dunes don’t repeat themselves, and neither do you.

11. Camping: The Night Is Bigger Out Here

There’s something deeply primitive about camping on the dunes: no walls, no phone service, just you, your tent, and the howl of wind. The first time I tried it, I couldn’t sleep. The sky felt enormous, and every sound was a mystery waiting to be named.

Backcountry camping needs a permit, and you need to trek in (at least 1.5 miles), but that isolation feels weirdly safe. I once stayed up all night listening to coyotes, journaling by the light of my headlamp, and feeling both scared and braver than I thought I was.

If you want an easier intro, try Piñon Flats Campground. Either way, dawn breaks, and you realize the world is so much bigger (and quieter) than Instagram ever lets on. Out here, you’re a tiny part of a beautiful, wild whole.

12. Ranger Programs: Nerd Out with Nature’s Coolest Cheerleaders

You know those people who light up when they talk about rocks or stars? Ranger programs turn the whole park into a living classroom, and the guides somehow make geology sexier than you thought possible. I asked about the sand’s origin once and got the full drama: wind, ice, time, all conspiring.

You might catch a talk on how the dunes sing (they really do, when the wind is right) or join a night hike. One ranger handed out red-lensed flashlights and made everyone introduce themselves with their favorite animal; adults groaned, then secretly loved it.

These programs ground you in place and time. You leave knowing more, but also wanting to ask bigger questions. Plus, you get to feel like an honorary science kid, no homework required.

13. Visitor Center: Because Everyone Needs a Map (And A Pep Talk)

The visitor center is where you get your bearings and a hit of enthusiasm. I wandered in half-awake, left with maps, tips, and a kind ranger’s pep talk about sand safety. There’s something reassuring about having a real human tell you where to find the best views.

Don’t skip the “Land of the Dune People” film; it’s surprisingly moving and will make you want to hug a geology book. The exhibits let you trace the history of the dunes and pick out which rock is secretly your favorite (it’s always the shiny one).

Stock up on water, sunscreen, and maybe a sticker or two. You’ll leave feeling like your trip is less chaos, more quest. Bonus points if you ask about recent animal sightings; they always know the tea.

14. Nearby Attractions: When You Need a Break from Sand (But Not Adventure)

The sand is great, but sometimes you crave green. The San Luis Valley offers a soft landing: wetlands, wildlife refuges, and a slower pace. Monte Vista National Wildlife Refuge is a birdwatcher’s paradise, with sandhill cranes dancing and wildflowers that make you question your city life choices.

I met a retiree here who knew every bird by song. He taught me to spot a blue heron before my coffee kicked in. It’s humbling and oddly comforting, realizing how much you don’t know yet about the world outside your phone.

If you need a reset, this is the spot. The mountains, the quiet, the flapping wings; suddenly, all the little worries seem smaller. And you return to the dunes remembering why you came in the first place: to feel awake.