I felt like Timothée Chalomet, hallucinating my way across vast expanses of desert. A soaked bandana circled my neck. Dark glasses shielded my eyes. Heat radiated through the soles of my shoes, which were filled with burning sand.
It made me wonder:
Was my sunblock melting?
Could I find my way back to the car, when it was dune after dune out to the shimmering horizon?
And, wait, are Sand Worms a real thing?
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I wasn’t Timothée of Dune. Or even Lawrence of Arabia. I was Peter of the San Luis Valley, trudging through Great Sand Dunes National Park and cursing the pitiless sun overhead.
I moved to Colorado in search of 300 days of sunshine per year. Of course, those sunshine numbers are mostly a talking point for Colorado real-estate agents and other mile-high hucksters. Denver has only 245 sunny days a year. Colorado Springs is under the magnifying glass with 270. The real laser beam is on Grand Junction, which endures a searing 290 days of sunshine. That works great if you’re a Palisade peach. It’s not so good if you’re an already-ripe human being.
You’ve probably been tuning out public-service messages about the sun. So I’ll speak a little louder now. The sun can kill you in all sorts of ways. If the dehydration and sun-stroke don’t get you, two types of skin cancer might. And, living at high altitude in Colorado, there’s less protective atmosphere between you and our angry red star. The higher the altitude, the more intense it becomes.Trail Ridge Road is like a giant waiting room at the dermatologist’s office.
Coloradans are eager outdoors people, stepping out into our famous backyard—the mountains—to recreate. Which increases our risk. In summer we receive up to 15 hours of sunlight daily. I fight it off with my floppy hat and UV-blocking shirts. Because in summer, UV stands for “ultra-vicious.” But we’re not safe when the sun goes south for the winter, either. Snow is a giant tanning reflector, doubling your sun exposure from above and below. Skiing on a “blue sky day” is like being a rotisserie chicken on spit.
As I was writing this commentary, the wind swung around from the northwest. Cooling zephyrs blew in through the windows of my office. So maybe we’re getting a little break. But the pattern will return, like grill marks on steak. 2024 was Colorado’s second hottest summer on record. A couple of weeks ago, the sun smoked us into record temperatures across the state. It’s no coincidence that fire season ramped up at the same time, with large burns erupting across Colorado. Meanwhile, in our garden in Fort Collins, our rose bushes gave up. Buds emerged and immediately turned into dried arrangements, without bothering to bloom first.
The only thing on my property that seems to be making the most of all this sunshine is our solar array. So far this year the sun has produced 5.3 megawatt-hours of energy–enough, my app tells me, to charge 460 phones. That would be sufficient juice to doom-scroll for a lifetime.
But that energy-off-the-roof may also be our savior, as well. More solar power means less coal incineration, which until recently was the primary energy source for our home. Now that we and hundreds of others have swapped it for sunshine power, that may mean less climate change and ultimately, cooler temperatures. Act now, and your grandkids may dance safely in the monsoon rains.
And there will be less chance that North America will come to resemble Great Sand Dunes National Park, from coast to arid coast. I’ve had enough of those sandy slopes. I’m ready for a little shade.
