Pre-Adventure Warm-Up

We don't remember whose idea it was to go to the sand dunes. It was one of those half-baked schemes that seem like a good idea at the time, and then the closer it comes the less that good idea seems so good. Other people who had promised, even sworn to come, realized this fact and cancelled their plans, but the bummer about being the person who plans the half-baked scheme is that once you have committed to your plan, you have to follow it to its completion. So, Team Krusti, with 3 days left before the Grand Adventure departed to go camping together before going camping together for the next four months. We called our friends and they were pondering showing up, so we packed up the Miata (remember this, it's important later) for our 5 hour trek down to the dunes. About 3 hours in to our trip, after temperatures hit about 100, we called our dear friends who had left slightly after we did to ask for directions to the dunes.

We should have known to ask someone else when they sent us down highway 69. After driving through the quaint town of Gardner (3 bars, 2 churches, 1 school, no gas), and being informed by the gas station attendant that there was no gas there, but if we were heading over the pass (**sizes up car**" it's a dirt road, you could make it in that") we should find some gas, or at least the dunes, in about 40 miles. I figured we had about 75 left on the tank, so I wasn't too concerned. And that's when our pre-adventure began.

First we took a wrong turn down the wrong, very very rough dirt road that dead-ended at a hiking trail we had taken the year before at the dunes. Choices: hike down to the dunes or turn around and try again. We took the second option because it would have been difficult to carry both the tent and the beer down that trail. So back down the dirt road we went. Another 15 miles down the road was another dirt road, complete with lots of signs about staying off of property and the dangers of bison hunting on private land. We turned on that one. A rougher dirt road. With less gas. In a Mazda Miata. But, thankfully, a tough Mazda Miata. So we roughed it up that road until we saw a sign. The sign had pictures of vehicles that were allowed on the road - an ATV, a dune buggy, something else with large tires and four wheel drive. None of the pictures were of zippy sports cars. So, after a close-to-full-on mental breakdown, we headed back down the dirt road. With less gas. In a Miata. At this point we had not seen a gas station in about 60 miles, we were in the absolute middle of nowhere, and without a clue. Thankfully that's when we met Eldon. Eldon had a big old jalopy truck, a Busch, and a tank of chainsaw gas (she'll smoke a lot, but it won't hurtchyer engine!). Thanks Eldon! We were able to make it another 20-30 miles down the road to the only gas station with gas on that side of the mountains.

As we found out at that gas station, unfortunately the sand dunes were on the other side of those mountains. We had two options. We could backtrack 60 miles the way we came, or we could take the long way there. We opted to backtrack after sipping a beer and eating a sandwich and watching a gorgeous sunset over the mountains, and imagining how beautiful it would be if it was over the dunes. Then we climbed back in the car and backtracked 60 miles before finding the road that actually leads to the Sand Dunes.

Rusti gets behind the wheel to pull her in for the last long haul. It's dark, it's late, we've been driving for 10 hours now. He's cruising along at 65 mph, going over the pass on the other side of the dunes, when all of a sudden the windshield fills with green eyes and a giant head. An elk, felled by a semi in the middle of the road in front of us. Split decision: try to swerve or hit it dead on and hope to catch some air. Rusti went with option 2. And all of a sudden we are airborn over this dead elk. And then we smell it. Eau de Dead Elk all over the bottom of my poor, poor car. But, it seems to be driving alright and we don't seem to be dragging anything, so we pull her on in. Granted, I was in what I would call a terrible mood at that point, and not cheered up by the sight of a giant piece of plastic hanging off underneath my car and every surface covered in elk fur. But, Jenny and Rachel had made it safely, finding different directions since theirs were less than accurate for people not in four-wheelers, and we cracked some beers and made up.

The next day it was really really hot, we went to the dunes for about 2 hours, tried to sleep, it rained in the afternoon, I freaked out because I had wasted 2 of my last days in Colorado far away from my family and kitties, we went to bed early, woke up early, and left the dunes.

So, next time you have an idea, remember to fully bake it. Use a toothpick to make sure it's done. Half baked ideas will waste your time and leave you wondering: why were we acting like such retards?