They call it Big Dune, and the name is no lie. Rising nearly 500 feet above the Nevada desert floor, this mountain of sand appears suddenly out of the vast Mojave like a sleeping beast mid-breath. I parked my Hondaminium on the crunchy gravel just beyond the Bureau of Land Management sign, cracked the windows, and prepared for a quiet night under a wide desert sky.
My Honda Accord twitched with excitement. Its tires gripped the sand and inched forward as if to say “I CAN DO IT.” I drove another half mile into the desert until the danger of getting stuck in the sand was just too great. With one final depression of the accelerator pedal, I launched my car into a 180 degree turn. I drove into a clearing where previous campers had left a mountain of firewood. Using this wood, I would cook my dinner and brighten my night.
But before the stillness came, there was movement.
The day had been spent hiking the dune’s shifting spine, boots sinking deep into soft sand, calves burning. Climbing a dune isn’t like climbing a rocky mountain. Every step up is half a step back. But the payoff at the top was 360 degrees of beautiful emptiness, distance, and sky was all I could see and it was worth every breath.
From the crest, I watched the desert breathe. Gusts of wind curled around the summit, picking up grains of sand and launching them into miniature avalanches down the slip faces. The whole dune system is alive, slowly migrating over time, driven by the prevailing winds that funnel through the Amargosa Valley.
Geologically, Big Dune is a star dune. Its shape is formed by winds coming from multiple directions. Unlike linear or crescent dunes, this one radiates like the spokes of a wheel, all points leading to a central peak. It’s a rare formation, and a stunning one. Deep beneath the sand lies volcanic tuff and alluvial fans, the detritus of ancient eruptions and long-dead rivers.
On the surface, life persists. Dune Beetles zipped across the sand like wind-up toys with urgent business. Their little tracks told tangled stories in the sand of migrations, chases, and collisions. I crouched to watch one vanish into a shadowed burrow before it could become a late-afternoon snack for something with wings.
That night, I lay back on the unfolded bed within my Hondaminium and listened. The desert never falls completely silent. A breeze rattled dry creosote, a coyote called somewhere distant, and the sand shifted, imperceptibly, endlessly.
I felt as if I was a guest in an ever-changing landscape, temporary and lucky.
In the morning, the embers of my fire were still hot enough to boil water for my morning coffee. And I cooked eggs. A break of color as the sun set the morning sky ablaze was my impetus to drive onward. My tires gripped the sand. I was thankful for the sturdy substrate as I watched Big Dune grow smaller in my rearview mirror.
Take the Clyde Outside Big Dune Mojave Desert Quiz:
🌵 So… How’d You Do?
Tally your correct answers and scroll down for your Desert Survival Street Cred:
10 Correct – Desert Whisperer
You are one with the sand. The Dune Beetles consult you before they scurry. The wind respects your opinion. Honestly, Big Dune is lucky to have met you.
8–9 Correct – Sand Sage
You’ve clearly slept under a billion stars and know how to read wind ripples like tea leaves. Just don’t forget your water bottle next time, O wise one.
6–7 Correct – Cactus Casual
You know your way around a dune, even if you sometimes confuse a beetle trail for a snack. Not bad. You’re definitely the kind of person who’d survive a short Mojave weekend—with style.
4–5 Correct – Trail Mix Rookie
You’ve got the curiosity, but you might want to stop licking rocks for hydration. Keep exploring, keep learning, and maybe keep your socks on in the sand.
0–3 Correct – Lost in the Dunes
You took a wrong turn at Albuquerque and ended up mistaking a tumbleweed for your guide. No shame. All adventurers start somewhere. Just don’t eat the beetles.
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