We got to the park as the sun rose and the sky began to blush in blue and pink.
The air was crisp but not too cold, even though it was still February, not even the tail end of the long northern winter.
We crouched on the ground or stretched our necks up at the sky, trying to capture the brief moment when the light would be warmest. My heart danced. My hair had not dried from the shower that morning, and it sent down shivers all over my body every time the wind caught it. But I lost myself in that moment of the sun coloring the bare trees and the sand in orange and yellow.
This is not the climb I was expecting, you said. I hadn't imagine 179 feet in height with this angle, either. With every step we took, we slid down 2 more steps, sand drowning our shoes that were definitely not sand-resistant. My toes wiggled, feeling the fine sand between them, struggling to find the solid ground on which to step.
There were a few people jogging about, and a few walking their dogs. I wondered how they seemed perfectly okay climbing the dunes.
We stood still at the top of the dunes, breathing in and out heavily.
One side of the dunes were the stairs, but we took the sandy path down to the beach.
The water color was so ethereal, gleaming in the morning sun. In the distance we faintly saw the smoke stacks of the factories nearby. What an odd scene, I thought.
We began heading back to the parking lot to have breakfast but via different path.
There was a boardwalk through the forest leading to the camping site.
Blooming.
We took Trail 9 for our second hike after ramen noodles. People kept greeting us with "good morning"s, and we tried to wrap our minds around the fact that it was still 10 in the morning, but we had been up for almost 6 hours. It felt rather like mid-day.
After almost fifteen minutes of rather flat trail, we all of a sudden met this steep path up to the top of another sand dune.
After almost fifteen minutes of rather flat trail, we all of a sudden met this steep path up to the top of another sand dune.
We took our time at the top, watching the water, the hikers coming and going, the family sitting on the bench, and occasionally unleashed dogs.
The girls who had climbed before us ran down the steep dune towards the beach and quickly disappeared from the view.
The trail looped around to where we could see where we stood only a few minutes ago. After a while, they would pass us by while we took our time to take more photos.
Two friends--or a mother and a daughter, I couldn't tell--sat on the edge of the dune, chatting about something trivial. They laughed and enjoyed the sun and the lake, not even aware of me behind them.
I pointed out the tree first, standing alone in a pretty deserted area. I took a photo of the tree. He took a photo of the path next to it.
The 3.3 mile trail seemed endless. By this point, we had been on the trail for 4 hours, had run out of water and snacks, and were ready to have lunch.
Instead of leaving the park for a restaurant, we sat at a picnic table and made ourselves sandwiches with some deli meat and a lot of jalapeño chips. I ate most of the chips.
There were a lot of people camping.
I took a nap in the car and felt a lot better. It was only 3 in the afternoon, but it felt like the end of the day was approaching. We took an easier trail to the beach, past the camping site. It was much more crowded than it was earlier.
There was no horizon in sight. Water was the sky, and sky was the water. We were lost in the surreal scene for a long time.
Sun was setting, setting the beach ablaze with its golden colors. It felt different than the morning. Much more passionate.
A shooting star.
But maybe I liked the serenity of the blushing sky better, its shy goodbye as the new time began.
