There have been few moments in my life thus far with the raw power to drop me too my knees in spiritual awe. Let me start by saying that coming face to face with the Oregon Dunes was one of these special moments.
We left for the dunes around 7am and arrived at our little forested campground around 4:30pm to make camp. After setting up tents and starting dinner, the group walked in an anticipatory silence up the winding path to the entrance of the dunes. Hand over hand we sprint/crawled up the sandy mountain in front of us, until we were standing on top of its wind-sculpted ridge. Blood pumping, breath left somewhere behind, I took it all in. The wind was so strong, so powerful, it whipped little bits of sand like bullets across my shins. It whistled in my ears and pushed at me from all sides—and especially from somewhere within. From the top of that dune (which I will later refer to as Big Dune) you could see all the way to the roaring Pacific Ocean. The waves, capped white, were breaking way off the shoreline--huge, loud, crashing waves, showing off, bragging of their raw power. I think what really struck me was the vastness of the whole experience. Just miles and miles of rolling sand dunes and patches of forested areas with bits of grass tufting out here and there. The dunes are stunning. After I finally got control of my feet again, I wandered down the other side of Big Dune to where it met with the forest edge. In some ways, that side was even more amazing than at the top of Big Dune. Where the two ecosystem met, the forest was being swallowed by sand. Huge trees, some maybe 100 ft tall, were being pushed over and choked out by the encroaching sand. In some areas, just the tips of trees were poking out. At one point, I walked over and put my hand on a beautiful Douglas-fir tree (Pseudotsuga menzeseii) realizing that I was nearly 50 feet up with my feet still on the ground. It was pretty incredible being able to look across the tops of the trees, the canopy at my eye level. I cannot describe the experience as a whole, the emotions, the spirituality. As a group though, we didn’t need to. We had all spread out across Big Dune, everyone with their own way of celebrating… hoots and hollers, dancing, sprinting, sand-angels, rolling down the dunes, falling to knees… but most importantly, every single one of us, ALIVE.
We left for the dunes around 7am and arrived at our little forested campground around 4:30pm to make camp. After setting up tents and starting dinner, the group walked in an anticipatory silence up the winding path to the entrance of the dunes. Hand over hand we sprint/crawled up the sandy mountain in front of us, until we were standing on top of its wind-sculpted ridge. Blood pumping, breath left somewhere behind, I took it all in. The wind was so strong, so powerful, it whipped little bits of sand like bullets across my shins. It whistled in my ears and pushed at me from all sides—and especially from somewhere within. From the top of that dune (which I will later refer to as Big Dune) you could see all the way to the roaring Pacific Ocean. The waves, capped white, were breaking way off the shoreline--huge, loud, crashing waves, showing off, bragging of their raw power. I think what really struck me was the vastness of the whole experience. Just miles and miles of rolling sand dunes and patches of forested areas with bits of grass tufting out here and there. The dunes are stunning. After I finally got control of my feet again, I wandered down the other side of Big Dune to where it met with the forest edge. In some ways, that side was even more amazing than at the top of Big Dune. Where the two ecosystem met, the forest was being swallowed by sand. Huge trees, some maybe 100 ft tall, were being pushed over and choked out by the encroaching sand. In some areas, just the tips of trees were poking out. At one point, I walked over and put my hand on a beautiful Douglas-fir tree (Pseudotsuga menzeseii) realizing that I was nearly 50 feet up with my feet still on the ground. It was pretty incredible being able to look across the tops of the trees, the canopy at my eye level. I cannot describe the experience as a whole, the emotions, the spirituality. As a group though, we didn’t need to. We had all spread out across Big Dune, everyone with their own way of celebrating… hoots and hollers, dancing, sprinting, sand-angels, rolling down the dunes, falling to knees… but most importantly, every single one of us, ALIVE.
So yeah. Wow.
We later found out that even the instructors, who’ve been coming to that spot for almost 10 years, had never seen it so windy. But what an introduction, right? Perhaps needless to say, the rest of the week was phenomenal. We'd be woken up at 6:30am, eat breakfast, sit-spot, have a morning lesson, and be out on the dunes by 8 or 9am. Then we would spend the entirety of the day tracking. It was incredible. The trails we saw were so fresh, so detailed, and sometimes could be followed for miles. We practiced identification, gait patterns, ecology, awareness, ahhh so, so much got crammed into my head. Then after an action-packed day of tracking we would make dinner, play games, and then curl up around the fire for story-of-the-day. Sometimes it was acted out, sometimes we all got to share, but every time I left the circle feeling closer and more connected to place and to all the people I am sharing these experiences with. After some words from our elders, it was always time for music, more stories, and tons of laughter. I suppose I should also mention that the nights were as clear as could be—incredible, incredible stars beaming down on us from above.
In our three intense days with expert tracker Dave Moskowitz, we tracked a ton of grey and red foxes, a number of coyotes, many frogs, a few porcupines, raven, deer mice, elk, and a number of other small birds, rodents, and insects.
The last day of tracking was probably my favorite. I went with a group who was going to focus specifically on gaits, with out goal being to meet the ocean. After we traveled through a number of different ecosystems for what seemed like miles, we were there. I stood in front of the Pacific Ocean, water around my knees—alive. Then, with two of my girl friends here, I ran down the beach, away from the group, skipping down the beach, stripping off our clothes as we went. Yes, it’s true. I skinny-dipped in the Pacific Ocean… sun caressing my body and waves knocking me over with their freezinnggggg cold waters. Hahaha. Such good times: screaming, laughing, naked animal forms on the beach, singing, LIVING. :-D
After meeting up with the rest of the group and spending an amazing day tracking at the beach, we admittedly decided it was time to head back. As we headed up the grassy dune nearest the ocean edge, saying goodbye to her water, someone spotted... a w-h-a-l-e. Yes, I got to see a whale the first time to the Pacific. Water would shoot way up into the air and then a huge tail would follow a few seconds later. We watched in awe for several minutes as it made its way down the beach. What an awe-inspiring, touching, soul-wrenching gift for us all.
Lastly, the final night is also worthy of mentioning. With no real reason as to why, we had been told throughout the day to stock up on dry dune grass roots. Come the final night we had huge piles of the stuff that we instructed to break up into 5 piles, one for each clan and one for the instructors/apprentices. We then experienced one of the coolest night activities I've ever seen. Each group took their bundle off into the darkness to find a tall dune to gather on top of--my group got assigned Big Dune. Then, after a few minutes of soaking in the night sounds and the beautiful constellations, we lit them. We lit them one after the other, like the emergency communication system in Lord of the Rings (nerd). And as they lit, the silent dunes were also ignited, ignited with the sounds of happiness: singing, howling... celebration... thanksgiving. The roots burned so bright; and as I looked across the empty desert I could see glowing lights with dancing silhouettes all around them. We sat and we watched them. And again I'll say it: I felt SO ALIVE.
And that my friends... that was the dunes.
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