Sand.

Even the word makes me itchy, never mind the idea of trying to ride a motorcycle in it. According to the site, the 2012 APC Rally will include a long-ish dash through the challenging, dry, and extremely large Simpson Desert. This is the first image that came up when I Googled Simpson Desert:

Notice the ripples on the dark side of this dune. That is called the danger zone. Get in there and steering will be all but impossible. The lighter side to the right is also called the danger zone. As far as I can tell, steering on that side will also be all but impossible. Ride in that fine powdery softness? What could possibly go wrong?

Plenty. Even though I dreaded the idea, I convinced my lovely fiancee that some sand riding training was necessary. The closest ridable dunes to our house are located in Pismo Beach. Camping is allowed right on the beach, and the town of Pismo Beach is a pretty cool and laid back place to hang out at night, after getting all the sand out of my ears. Though we’d never been, it sounded perfect on all counts. So, after taking care of a few fun and exciting wedding details, we loaded the Mobile Desert Assault Vehicle with one ATV – complete with sand paddle tires, and one courageous dirt-bike – complete with no sand tires. I won’t have them in the Simpson Desert, so why learn on them, I reasoned.

As we finally found the well-hidden entrance to the beach, my anxiety grew. I said to Fiona, “You know what’s going to happen, right? We’re going to go out on this beach and immediately sink up to the axles in the sand.”

She innocently responded, “Why?”

By my calculations, the truck and loaded trailer tip the scale somewhere north of 15,000 lbs. Dragging 7.5 tons of junk around a sandy beach seemed more and more like a recipe for disaster. Though the whole trip was my idea, it wasn’t exactly too late to back out yet.

The lady at the gate seemed friendly enough, though I detected the slightest hint of a smirk on her face when we started talking.

“So, is this your first time here?”

“Yep.”

Her smirk grew, then she suddenly displayed a face that I can only be described as being shocked with electricity. I’m sure she’s seen this routine play out a time or two.

“Ohhh… well…. do you want to… ummm.. maybe go down to the beach and… uhhhh… see what you might be in for? There aren’t many people camping on the beach today.”

Fiona answered this one before I had a chance to speak. “No, that’s all right. We drove all the way here, and we ARE camping on the beach tonight and tomorrow night!”

I love that girl.

The gate lady’s face went from electro-shock therapy to a look of pity. With a slight shrug she said, “Suit yourselves. It’ll be $20 for two nights camping. You can camp anywhere you like, as long as it is past the Mile Two marker.”

Jokingly, I added, “Two miles? What time do the tow trucks come though?”

She didn’t answer.

Great. Only two miles of beach driving before we could camp. With a slight turn we left asphalt for the sand. “We’re in it now!” I exclaimed. Then I thought, “Shit. Is this really going to work?”

As the sun slowly started to set, we crept out onto the beach, sticking close to the water where I assumed the sand would be more compact. To my amazement, we did not sink in the sand; all 7.5 tons just glided right over it. We passed Mile Marker One without incident. What was I so worried about?

Just before passing Mile Marker Two we splashed through a water crossing, and suddenly we were in the clear. Camp anywhere you like! Woo Hoo! The beach was nearly deserted, with only a few trailers spotting the beach here and there. I found a nice looking space, and turned from the hard packed surface into the much softer sand. Within seconds we were no longer moving forward. Every touch of the accelerator pedal just made us sink lower and lower, shooting sand onto the roof of the trailer.

Oh yeah, we were stuck, and stuck good.

Within minutes, a ranger pulled up to our forward-momentum-challenged vehicle. Rolling down his window he said, “First time on the beach, eh?”

I fought the urge to call him a dipshit, nodding quietly instead.

Looking our ruts over, he said, “Well, it’s not too bad. You can probably get out of this. I’ll tell you what. You can borrow my shovel to dig your wheels out. Just stick it in the sand when you are done, OK?”

“Thanks!” Every problem has a solution.

Turning around to grab his shovel, he stopped then said, “Oh. Well. I guess this isn’t your lucky day. My shovel isn’t here. Where were you trying to get to anyway?”

“Just out of this hole I guess. We’re camping on the beach tonight.”

“Well, looks like you’re home then. Good luck!”

With that he drove off.

I did call him a dipshit, only after he was out of earshot.

Fiona looked at me, laughing. “What now, dear?” It’s amazing how much ‘dear’ sounds like ‘dipshit’ in the right context.

“I don’t know. I guess we start digging.”

Before we could start the un-sanding process, a guy in a clunking and clanking Toyota 4×4 pickup approached.

I noticed his rear wheels weren’t turning much until he nailed his accelerator. Suddenly we heard a loud BANG! His rear wheels started moving again, though out of sync with each other. I heard him laughing as he stopped.

“You stuck?”

What is this, National Dumbass Day?

“Yup.”

“Did you air down yet?”

“Did I what?”

“Air down! You know! Let some air out of your tires! Ha! You have to let the air out in the soft sand!”

It’s National Dumbass Day, all right, and evidently I am the president.

He jumped out of his Toyota, a small wisp of smoke coming from underneath. “Ha! Look at that! I thought it’d be funny to tow a Ford with a Toyota! Looks like that won’t be happening today! Ha! Well, awesome! I was waiting for more stuff to break so I would have an excuse to fix this thing! Now I do! Ha! First, let’s get you out of here!”

In his hand he had a tire pressure gauge and a valve stem remover. Within minutes my tires went from firm to nearly flat.

“There. Try that.”

The Mobile Desert Assault Vehicle was once again mobile, crawling right out of the sand holes that held us so firmly moments before. Simple! Air down! Ha!

Learn something new every day.

I turned us around on the beach so our door faced the ocean, which was all I’d been trying to accomplish anyway. Settled in our home for the next two days, I cracked open a brand new bottle of The Macallan, raising a toast to the beach, to my best friend sitting right next to me, and of course, to the Best Day Ever.

I went to sleep knowing that even though I’d quickly mastered the art of driving in the sand, riding in the man-eating dunes would be another story all together.

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Author: frenchy