Michigan Dunes - Or, How I faced my Challenge

We spent the weekend camping in the midwestern portion of our state, as close as we could be to the Lake Michigan dunes. Well, actually, we were closer to some of the dunes before we even left home, but these were dunes we had never seen before.

Sitting on the beach, after climbing for what felt like DAYS (but was really about a hard 45 minute climb in slipping sands), Mike told me about the time he remembered being at this same lake with his family and grandparents, when he was a young child. It brought back memories for him that I had never heard about before. Wonderful family times. Priceless.

I downplay the climb, mostly due to the fact that there was more than one time that I thought my life was going to end right there on the sands of Lake Michigan, and my family would be able to roll me down a hill and cover me up to leave me there, or perhaps, they would walk on and never look back as I slowly melted into the ever changing sands that swallowed me up.

I was feeling quite feeble as my old knees screamed, "STOP!" and my heart raced with the uncommon exertion. The kids ran ahead, throwing sand in their wake, then turned around, secretly mocking my inability to compete with their youth and energy, returning to grab my hand or lighten my load by offering to carry something for me.

At one point, I begged them to continue without me, remembering to come back to pick me up before they headed back to camp at nightfall. No deal. We all would go forward, or we all would stop. Solidarity. Nice.

Their springing steps in the hot sand sickened me. I know they are alot younger than me, but come on!!! They were practically dancing circles around my feeble attempts to move forward in the sand!!

I looked over at Mike, expecting him to eye me pitifully, while he secretly wished I could put a little "umph" in my steps. He leans close, and says, "This is making me feel extremely old!"

After we struggled our way over the dunes to get to the lake, I was thrilled to practically run (yeah, right) down the backside of the dunes toward the water, stopping only long enough to breathe. Yeah, it really wasn't any easier going down, no matter what my kids tell you. Thankfully there was a long stretch of poles and rope separating the "endangered dunes" from the "healthy, moving dunes" (still not sure how they could tell the difference), so I could send the chidren ahead toward the water as I meandered my way to the lakeside. Coming closer to the beach were posted signs, "Do not Enter. Private property. No Tresspassing." I was afraid I would lose sight of the kids who had run ahead of us, but I should not have feared. There, just past the "DO NOT ENTER" sign were half of them, swimming in private lakefront off the private beach, oblivious to the major warnings to stay away. At least they were safe there until I was able to reach them!

I layed my sheet on the beach, hoping my heart would quit racing and my breathing return to normal before we had to head back up the dunes to return to civilization. It was already after supper, so I knew I only had about 3 hours for my body to recover before nightfall.

When I realized I would have to begin the treck back, each of the kids protested or requested more time in the water. Since we had not brought breakfast with us, I knew our time up the huge sand dunes was going to have to begin sooner than later, since walking in the full sunlight was challenging enough. I doubted I would ever make it back once the moon came out. We gathered our shoes and towels, drank all but the last water bottle we had carried, and ate all the cookies we brought with us. Going uphill would mean we'd have to lighten our load considerably, or I, especially, would never hope to get off this desolate mountain of sand.

We gathered our wits, coralled our forces, and marched to the foot of the hill. I listed toward the pole that held the dividing ropes, hoping to garner some support from their stalwart positions as I climbed upward to our final destination.

The ropes became my lifeblood. By the time I was halfway up the dunes, I was grabbing, fist over fist, literally pulling my entire weight up the hill, only slipping to my knees every other step of the way. By the time I was within four poles from the top of the tallest dune in the world, the kids were cheering me on, Mike was pulling for me from deep within his heart, and I, although panting the entire time, I finally reached the highest point. It would be all down hill from here.

Well, sparing the rest of the gory details, we made it, enmass, to the bottom of the dunes, where Mike had travelled first, mainly to get our photos from the base to see just how far we had come. I see the pictures, days later, and my knees ached just looking at them.

By the time we had taken our seats in the van so that we could travel back to our campground and comfy beds, the kids were talking about returning to the dunes the following day for another excursion.

I, on the other hand, opted for the calmer trip to the local Petting Zoo and Farm Market, which was just a short drive from our campsite. I slept well that night, dreaming of the adorable animals we would visit the next day, ever grateful that I would not be spending that particular night on the top of a large sand dune, alone, and scared, lost in a mountain of drifting sand.