One of the first memories I have is of my dad zipping me into his jacket and taking me on his dirtbike up Comp Hill at Dumont Dunes. I was terrified and entranced all at the same time, white knuckled holding on to what I could. I survived my first time up Comp but till this day riding down it gives me the same feelings as I had when I was 5 years old. Comp Hill is not just any sand dune, it’s a sand mountain standing at approximately 450 feet from it’s base to the top. It is the steepest and largest dune out of the 7,620 acres that make up Dumont Dunes.

Dumont Dunes is located in the Mojave Desert about 30 miles north of Baker, CA. It is an Off-Highway Vehicle area that is owned and managed by the Bureau of Land Management. It used to be a free riding area but as of 2004 this area does require a fee depending on when you visit it to camp and play at the dunes, you can find current prices here.

My dad has been going to Dumont since 1988. His first trip was for Thanksgiving weekend, and like many trips taken thereafter, he went to accompany his good friend Brian to sell event t-shirts for his parent’s company. The company, California Casuals is a staple out at Dumont. One of the original vendors out at the sand, they have been selling event t-shirts there since 1981. The first weekend joining them to do business, Dad borrowed a buddie’s RM125 to ride at the dunes and stayed in what he describes as “a cousin eddie motorhome”. Since that initial trip, Dad’s bikes have evolved and so have his sleeping arrangements. He has slept in his car, the t-shirt trailer, and occasionally a tent. Once he had kids and we had bikes of our own he and my mom eventually bought a trailer that became our second home.

It was 1996 or 1997 when I got to go to Dumont for the first time, I was just a toddler. My little brother would make his first trip out in 1999 at just nine months old. Going to the dunes was everything you could want as a kid. There were dirt bikes, sand, dirt, and smores every single day. For some people the arrival of Fall means Football, but in my family it means the beginning of sand season. The season lasts from about September at the earliest till about February, some go out past this time but even the beginning of Spring can bring in some hot temperatures. We would go out for at least three holidays of the sand season: Thanksgiving, New Years, and President’s Day.

Thanksgiving is usually our designated start of sand season kick off. Most kids grow up attending large dinners at a relatives house, wearing a set of new clothes, and having to fight holiday traffic on Thanksgiving. My version of Thanksgiving though included rides out to cool points around the dunes such as The North Pole, Sperry Wash, and the Salt Creek Mines. We would still have Thanksgiving dinner, especially when my mom would join us for those trips, and get together as a family, with our sand family. My sand family consisted of all my dad’s buddies that he had from Dumont and their families. I grew up with these people and their children, and till this day when we get together at the dunes we consider each other a sort of extended family.

The years prior to the housing market crash, the dunes were full of excitement and crowds. Everyone had RVs and trailers, and the newest sand toys. There were around 60,000 people that would visit Dumont annually. Seeing that there were so many people and so little quality food vendors out at the dunes, my parents saw the opportunity to bring in a business to earn some extra money on the weekends we were out there. They ended up starting Java Junkies, out of a bright red trailer they would serve artisan coffee and serve food such as warm brownies and their famous breakfast burritos. During their peak they would have well over twenty people waiting in line for their services, and sometimes they would even get early bird riders coming and knocking on our personal trailer door to get some breakfast and coffee.

Java Junkies was a money maker, and my parents wanted to make sure they were there for the customers as they started rolling in to set up their camps till the time most of them had packed up and headed home. This meant even longer weekends out at Dumont, sometimes even weeks. From a kid’s point of view it was awesome. My parents would pull me from school and my mom would make the arrangements for me to do my school work out at the dunes so I would not fall behind. To date that was probably my favorite class schedule, wake up, go on a ride, work on some math during lunch, then go out and ride again.

Of course this time didn’t last forever, once the housing market crashed, less and less people started coming to Dumont. It was a double edged sword, less people to share the dunes with but also less people to fund my parent’s business. Although we put the Java Junkies trailer into storage, my parents still continued to take us out to Dumont. We may not be making extra money on our trips to the dunes but at least it was safer for us kids to be out actually riding on the dunes. The crowds that used to occupy Dumont had it’s partiers and selection of reckless drivers, and the crashing of the market seemed to force a good portion of them to sell their sand toys. 

Over the years there have been some holidays we didn’t make it out to the dunes either due to bad weather, or just because we were testing out some new traditions. When it comes to Thanksgiving though, when i'm not at Dumont it just doesn’t feel like Thanksgiving. Maybe it’s because I don’t have sand everywhere from my hair, my nose, or on the inside of my socks. Or perhaps it’s because the dunes are my second home, and nowhere is quite like home especially during holiday weekends.

I have to thank my parents, especially my dad for raising me out at the dunes. It’s where I learned a lot of life lessons, like learning to trust my riding abilities and conquering dunes that made me nervous. I will admit Comp still gives me a mental block as an adult, but now I have an understanding that I won’t die going down it when my dad sneaks it into one of our rides. Dumont Dunes is where I got to be a kid, and it’s where I will always get to be a kid. On our trips I get to watch my dad in his early fifties still get to play out in the sand, and have the time of his life. The sand rejuvenates you in a way that when you’re out riding in it you get to seemingly forget everything else.

Even though I am now married, I do not plan on ever stopping my sand days. I am thankful to have a husband who enjoys the sand and dirt as much as I do. We talk about how when we have kids we can’t wait to watch them adjust to the learning curves of riding bikes and playing in the sand and getting dirty as hell. That’s how kids are suppose to be and it’s a childhood that I hope to deliver to our future family. We still join my dad and Brian, and camp behind the t-shirt trailer at Vendor Row. Dumont has been my second home for nearly twenty-three years, and reflecting back on all the adventures I have had there - I really could not have asked for a better foundation for my childhood like growing up in the sand.