FLORENCE, Ore. — The polished board strapped to my feet feels fast and light. I shift my weight forward and launch myself down a 50-foot sand dune, through a wide curvy path bordered by spiky beach grass.

Bend your knees, I was told. Point your lead arm in the direction you want to go. Is it that easy?

It's a cloudy but warm summer afternoon along the central Oregon coast, and this is my third attempt at sandboarding. To the south, the nation's largest expanse of coastal dunes stretches to a horizon of honey-colored mounds, sprinkled with bunches of gold and green beach grass. To the west, white-crested waves lap on the beach. To the east, the Suislaw River cradles the town of Florence, home of the nation's first sandboarding park.

Surfing down the dune, I'm gaining speed and cruising at a nice clip, the wind blowing back my hair. I'm probably traveling less than 20 mph, but it's an adrenaline jolt nonetheless. As I reach the bottom of the hill a few seconds later, I shift my weight to my heels, and for the first time that day, come to a graceful stop.

A geological phenomenon made Oregon's central coast a paradise for sand-sport enthusiasts, and that's the reason an estimated 2 million people each year lug sandboards and transport ATVs, motorcycles, quads and dune buggies to these parts.

The hub of this sand playground is Florence, once rated the nation's top retirement town. Now the streets rumble with trucks, RVs and trailers loaded with knobby-tired motorcycles, ATVs and dune buggies, nearly all plastered with a bumper sticker that reads: "Got Sand?" Sand is the attraction. And there's tons of it here.

THE BIG SAND FACTORY

Three rivers — the Coos, the Umpqua and the Suislaw — dump stream sediment into the ocean off a gently sloping sandstone terrace, stretching about 40 miles, from Coos Bay to the iconic Heceta Head lighthouse. Ocean currents and offshore winds toss the grains back onto the long, flat shelf, where it piles up in waves, bowls and flat plains. Author Frank Herbert visited this vastness of sand in 1953 and was inspired to write "Dune," his classic science-fiction novel.

The winds, tides and currents that wash and rewash the sediment grind out what might be the softest and cleanest sand on the coast.

Just ask Lon Beale.

He came to Florence, a former logging town on the north end of Oregon's dunes, 10 years ago looking for the best sand on which to popularize sandboarding, a craze he hopes will surpass snowboarding and skateboarding.

Inside an old Quonset hut — the headquarters for Beale's Sand Master Park — he displays nearly 40 jars of sand from dunes around the world. Beale and his employees have ridden sand hills all over the world. But the sand around Florence, he says, is among the best. Through a magnifying glass, he says, the grains look like tiny ball bearings.

Beale, a 50-year-old former high school teacher, looks more like a cop than a sandboarding pioneer. He started sandboarding in high school and began designing boards and organizing competitions in the early 1990s when he lived in California City, Calif. The owner of a parcel along the Florence coast heard about Beale and offered to lease him the Quonset hut and 40 acres of dunes. Beale, knowing the quality of Florence sand, agreed.

THE WHEELED OPTION

Last year, Beale's park drew 10,000 boarders, about 2,000 more than the previous year.

To get a better sense of the size and scope of this giant sandbox, I hire Bob Callahan to take me on a buggy ride through Oregon Dunes National Recreation Area and the adjoining Jessie M. Honeyman Memorial State Park.

Callahan works for Sand Dunes Frontier, one of two shops in Florence that rent ATVs, quads and buggies. Most visitors see the dunes from atop a sand-churning roadster like the paddle-wheeled buggy Callahan drives.

I hang on as Callahan red-lines his air-cooled Volkswagen engine and launches the buggy straight up the side of some of the nation's tallest dunes. The ride is a loud, sliding, sand-spewing roller coaster. Fountains of quartz and feldspar shoot from the fat tires. Tiny grains crunch between my teeth.

After a few pointers, I'm sliding down the dune with relative ease. I wipe out a few times, but Beale smiles and says: "If it's not fast enough to hurt yourself, it's not fun."