He Admits Defeat

Some of our favorite family adventures occur in a giant sandbox called The Dunes. We'd never even noticed this part of the Oregon Coast before our friends the Sharps lured us there six years ago, and we've been hooked ever since. Over Memorial Day weekend, we loaded up the trailer and headed out to meet up with our friends for a weekend of fun. Little did we know, we would witness a rarely seen event...the amusing defeat of a Dune Master.

From start to finish, going to the dunes is always an entertaining mix of thrills, spills, and deflated wheels. Towing heavy trailers on windy coastal roads and narrow bridges is always an adventure, but doesn't even come close to the ultimate challenge of towing what's basically a portable garage out into a precariously sandy camp site. To do this you've got to purge the vessel of it's contents, let most of the air out of the tires (Yes, that's right, purposely deflate your tires!) and with full-throttle, hit the sand like you're running from the law (in this case it would be the law of gravity). Although we had a nice wide open campsite, as you see deceptively pictured here, it was anything but easy to get into. In fact, the last time we camped here a few years back, Grampa Bear had a side-view mirror ripped off by a tree, Ken Guerra had his trailer smashed up, and Mark, as always, had to be towed in by Mont Sharp. Damage to your truck or trailer or even both are considered badges of honor out at the Dunes but no one likes to be in the awkward position of needing to be towed at the dunes, it is a great scandal among men, considered to be the ultimate dune disgrace! But, in a miraculous turn of events, this time Mark and the trailer made it through the gauntlet of sand, trees, and steep slopes unscathed and all on his own. Shockingly, it was Mont, a.k.a "The Dune Master" who got stuck. To witness such a spectacle, I must admit, was an awkward but delightful surprise. The great Mont Sharp, the Dune Master himself, the man who is always getting the Skillmans out of trouble, now in need of a tow! We tried our hardest to appear grim-faced at his precarious predicament but inside we relished every bit of it!

Check out this very narrow passage that the trailers have to thread through to get out into the camp site. This is the same tree we now call "The Can Opener" because it peeled back part of the roof of Ken's trailer. If you look close you can see the mark on the tree.



Here's how close Mont came to smashing his poor trailer into this tree.






Luckily for Mont, his troubles only resulted in the loss of a vent cover you see here.It was scraped off by a tree on the other side. A little hot glue and it should be like new, right?




Despite the hardships Mont suffered getting into our campsite, and the miraculous ease at which the Skillmans enjoyed threading though, once we get settled into camp it's time to do what we came for...RIDE! We've got all kinds of rides: family rides, night rides, a ride for just the wives, the ride to the beach ride, and even an "adults ride the little kids quads and hurt themselves ride, but the fiercest of all them is what we call "The Boys Ride". These rides are strictly men-only for good reason. The pace at which they ride is for the mentally insane. When a new male comes to camp who's a first-time rider we warn them that this might not be the best introductory tour of dune riding and caution them against going for this ride. Most men can't summon the courage to suffer the humiliation of admitting their amateur riding status because it would require them to stay back at camp with a bunch of girls. Amidst the intoxicating delirium of testosterone, every new rider will suit up and head out for the boys ride keeping their inexperience to themselves. Unfortunately for them, their little secret isn't kept for long as they all too quickly show back up at camp having gotten lost, scared, or in need of stitches-and sometimes all three.

Sometime during the weekend a couples ride will take place. Here's Deanne and I all ready to go (and yes mom, we wear our helmets). We have become a bit weary about couples rides these days, they sound like a great time to take a leisurely ride out in the sand with your spouse, but this is NOT the case. Deanne and I were a little slow to discover the REAL truth behind the "couples ride". It is actually a conspiracy of the most diabolical kind. We wives mistakenly thought it was a sweet gesture by the husbands to go with their wives on a fun outing without the kids. This is not the case at all. Our discovery came after a particularly grueling ride that seemed treacherously fast and our having to stand on the pegs almost the entire time. When the boys finally let us stop for a little mid-ride breather, I was out of breath as if I'd been sprinting and when I finally caught my breath I said, "Man you guys are going really fast, I can barely keep up!" Out of the corner of my eye I see the husbands hiding devious grins. Deanne and I looked at them, then at each other and wondered what was going on. It was then they admitted the real truth behind their scheme. Apparently, according to Mont himself, the couples ride is designed to "increase the caliber of the wives riding skills". So much for the notion that they simply enjoyed our company!

Thank goodness for the family rides. They're a little less "testosterone induced" although each ride seems to increase in speed as the weekend progresses.




Some hill climbing.







In between rides we often find inventive ways to pass the time. Here's a game of sand baseball. A little caution here, as your glove will never be totally rid of sand once you play on this field, nor will your shoes or ears.



We also like to golf since you only need to bring your nine iron, since it's just one giant sand trap out there...






Next came barrel racing, a new sport brought to the dunes by a few bored racers amongst our group. Of course, you'll notice our version of barrel racing is done around flags and not barrels, but calling it "flag racing" apparently doesn't pass the "testosterone test".



Here's Chloe giving it a try...she actually made better time than her own mother. I'd like to think my eight year old out-raced me because her quad is a lot smaller than mine but I think the real reason is that her quad REALLY IS a lot smaller (it couldn't be that she was actually faster than me, could it?).


Mont gives it a try or two or three...four...five...six times, and still doesn't qualify for the best time! The Dune Master, already humbled by needing a tow now loses to a 16-year old kid. On his first attempt Mitchell came out the clear winner...that is until Mark, determined to outrace his son, repeatedly tried over and over until he made the best time (not bad for a forty-something year old guy on his 12th try).


Once the winner was declared, I captured this amazing footage of Mont the Dune Master (that's like a Jedi Knight of the Dunes)and his ultimate surrender. Be sure to play it over and over like we do, because this is rare footage.


As if things couldn't get more humiliating, Mont also had to be towed back out of the dunes. May I add, victoriously, that this is the first time the Skillmans didn't need a tow at all. (Que the video!)