FIVE meters up, I was cursing my guide. Barefoot and unfit, I had no idea the climb would be so steep. To make matters worse, the mid-day sun had toasted the sand and my feet were burning. My throat was so dry I was sure I would die before I reached the top.
In what seemed like a lifetime later, huddled on knees and hands, I found myself on level ground. And when I finally did look up - and around - I was convinced that I did die and was in heaven.
Wind, sand and just nothing for as far as the eyes could see.
But it was the aura of this vast expanse of emptiness, exalted by height, that made me feel so special. Like I was in my very own kingdom of endless drifts of white ripples, in patterns of indescribable beauty. My guide ceased to exist in those moments of solitude.
Wow! In the distance, stretches of magic. Every time the wind blew, the patterns changed.
I was truly overwhelmed by the scale and beauty of these hills.
Facing the ridges, I had the community of Kulukulu behind me, the grassland of the park on my far right and more mounds of sand ahead of me.
Jason Tutani, unaffected by the climb, was walking away from me.
Dragging my feet, I trudged after him.
About 200 meters later, atop yet another mound, he pointed to the distance. The highest point, the largest of the dunes. That's where we're going, he said.
No we're not, I thought. Another 200 meters of gradual ascend? I had just done enough walking and exercise to last me a year!
And anyway, I now wanted to sit down and soak in this breathtaking scene. Now I had the sea to my left. Sinfully captivating. The deep blue of the sea and crashing waves, the dunes acting like a fortress against the surfing beach.
Jason gave no hint of the difficult climb when he agreed to help me kill time while on a job in the area. He did say quite a bit about sculptured sand, bush fires and surfing - but what you hear and imagine is a world away from the images and emotions evoked by the naked eye.
Now, the climb up the dunes from the Kulukulu end was what I thought would be a shortcut of the 2hr hike - since my just completed version of the 1hr tour had me exhausted already.
That first hour walk through a trek directly behind the park's office had lot of vegetation and covered solid dunes. It took me through the floor of a mahogany forest.
Evidence of a recent tree hugging activity lay displayed on the bottom trunk of the trees.
Looking out to sea, and in awe of the marvel that surrounded me, it was hard to imagine that these huge mounds of sand were formed just over 1500 years ago from large quantities of material brought down from the highlands by the Sigatoka River.
Jason stirred my curiosity when he said that archaeological discoveries at the dunes on human arrival dated some 2700 years.
So maybe it took 1000 years after that first arrival before any real activity began in the highlands
Walking against the wind, with grains of sand pinching my face, I began to think of sand storms and the life of the communities who live at the foot hills of the dunes.
Jason then explained that this was why vegetation on the 650 acre dune area was important - it slowed down inward movement. Part of the problem was that the park covered only 390 acres as the remaining 260 acres was privately owned.
So the keepers of the park have a hard time dealing with sand thieves, rubbish dumpers, fires, and grazing cattle.
If I haven't told you, Jason is the guide who trotted up the dunes like it was a literal "walk in the park."
He kind of just glided around the dunes. Show off.
At one point during that initial climb, I wanted to reach out, grab his legs and pull him back, so envious I was over how easily he trotted up that slope.
I later found out that keeping fit is his business.
The park manager and his five staff patrol the dunes up to three times a day, out of concern about fires and activities that destabilize the dunes.
"It's a place of aesthetic beauty. I love saying this," the former school teacher laughed as he gave me a crash course on the workings of the park.
I must confess that an hour before this tour the dunes meant nothing to me, earmarked like a page in a book as the national rugby team's training ground.
But then again, I did not feel so bad after Jason told me that most people living in Sigatoka have never been. Schools from the around the country arrive in drones before the second term school break - but according to Jason, Sigatoka students were a rare sight.
"One of the biggest challenges is in educating the locals so that we don't have to deal with fires four to six times a year. Sand extraction and grazing animals also destabilise the dunes," he shared.
About two meters from where I sat, the wind was uncovering pieces of glass. On closer examination I discovered it was a pile of broken beer bottles.
This was hard to fathom. Who in their right mind would want to lug a carton of beer all the way up here?
"Oh, you will be surprised," an unfazed Jason replied.
"The things people do. That is one reason why we patrol three times a day."
Jason understands his work and the problems encountered because he himself was a frequent visitor as a child who was raised in Kulukulu.
"I know the mindset of locals. A lot of them take this place for granted.With all the focus on eco-tourism and a little education, I think we are well on our way to protecting our natural heritage.
"And if we have more people who go back and share that experience with their families and friends, then that's a good marketing strategy," Jason said as we prepared to head back.
Descending was easy, enjoyable really. It was only a matter of seconds before we were on the road again.
I intend to return sometime later but definitely, definitely not in the heat of the mid-day sun.