With rolling sand dunes that spread out over a sweeping expanse of open space, it’s easy to see why a former stone quarry now part of the Big River Management Area is known as “The Rhode Island Desert.”

“Where are the camels?” asked Phil Plouffe, as he, Maggie Jones and I roamed for miles through this desolate swath one day last week. It felt as if we were in a scene from “Lawrence of Arabia” rather than on a hike in the Ocean State.

The entire 8,600-acre management area, including this “desert” section in West Greenwich just off Interstate-95, serves as a popular destination for hikers and mountain bikers; kids on sleds flock to the dunes in winter. The state-owned tract also contains deciduous and evergreen forests, crisscrossed by miles of paths, as well as the 6.8-mile Big River, formed by the confluence of the Congdon and Nooseneck rivers, with launch sites for kayakers and canoeists.

The Big River Management Area is the largest publicly owned land parcel in Rhode Island, covering portions of West Greenwich, East Greenwich, Coventry and Exeter.

If authorities had their way, though, much of the area would be underwater today.

Plans for a reservoir were first floated in 1928, but it wasn’t until the mid-1960s that the state used eminent domain to acquire 444 parcels in Coventry, West Greenwich and Exeter, with intentions to develop a public water supply.

The ensuing legal battle was like a preview of the case decades later in New London, where residents of the Fort Trumbull neighborhood fought to keep their homes from being seized for a redevelopment project. As happened in Connecticut, the Rhode Island homeowners lost and the government prevailed.

Despite its legal victory, Rhode Island held off on its plans until 1988, when state officials applied for federal permits to build a 2,300-foot long, 70-foot-high dam designed to create a 3,400-acre reservoir.

Less than two years later, though, the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency denied the application, claiming the reservoir would destroy 575 acres of wetlands, 17 miles of free-flowing streams, 10 ponds and 2,500 acres of forest.

Finally, in 1993, the Rhode Island General Assembly passed legislation designating the Big River Management Area as open space to be used principally for recreation.

While outdoor advocates applauded this decision, many disenfranchised property owners remain bitter about having been kicked off their land for a project that never panned out.

“Big River was condemned to build a reservoir, which hurt a lot of people but preserved a lot of land. If that hadn’t happened, there would probably be 20,000 people living in West Greenwich,” Kevin Breen, the town administrator whose family had been living on their land for 11 generations, said in a 2017 article published in Rhode Island Monthly. The town’s population now stands at about 6,500.

The former quarry where we hiked is adjacent to an existing sand and gravel operation that has been cited numerous times over the years for various environmental infractions.

We skirted that property and remained within the protected Big River boundary, accessed from a small parking lot off Division Street, near Exit 6 on I-95.

A handful of other cars were parked there, and we balefully watched one man exit his vehicle while carrying a golf bag.

“Great,” Maggie grumbled, imagining he was going to leave golf balls scattered all over the property.

We ignored him and began tramping through the sand. There were no marked trails, but ATV tracks and footprints led to a series of gigantic dunes.

The area wasn’t totally barren. We passed clumps of plants that Maggie, director emeritus of the Denison Pequotsepos Nature Center in Mystic, identified as big bluestem grass and switchgrass, both native prairie species.

Periodically, we also veered away from barren dunes onto paths that led through woods proliferated by pitch pines.

With no map, and a thick cloud cover that precluded use of the sun for nav-igation, we relied on the sound of I-95 traffic to keep our bearings.

This was freeform hiking at its best — following whichever path struck our fancy.

At one point, we wandered across Division Street, not far from where our car was parked, and came upon a wide, gravel road that passed through pines and alongside a pond dammed by beavers.

It turned out this was the long-abandoned New London Turnpike, a toll road built in 1821 from Providence to New London, where a steamer took passengers to New York.

I’ll devote a future column to this 18-mile thoroughfare, now restricted to pedestrian and bicycle traffic.

After more than three hours of hiking, we found our way back to the car — coincidentally arriving just as the golfer was returning.

“Must be like one, big sand trap,” I said.

The man chuckled and showed us his golf bag, which was outfitted with a device that picks up errant balls.

“It’ll hold 250,” he said, adding, “Got ’em all.”

More information: www.wrb.ri.gov/policy_guidelines_brmalanduse.html