In which I get more evidence that sand is The Worst, and maybe meet my first supernatural creatures of this trip.

Leg 1 of multi-day trip: SF to Sand Mountain, Nevada

There’s a big sand mountain! It’s like 6 stories tall. It’s right off Highway 50, the “loneliest road in the US”, just past Fallon, Nevada. And you can camp by it I guess. So I set sights for that and headed off.

When I got there, I noted that indeed it was a lonely road. I saw no people for a long time. At the Great Sand Mountain, I saw a couple of RVs in the distance, and a few people off-roading on dirt bikes and ATVs. I drove past the end of the asphalt road, onto the dirt road, and then I had to turn around so I pulled over to do a 3-point turn and – the sand is much softer here! and my lil Toyota Yaris isn’t moving! Huh.

Forward, reverse, forward, reverse, nope, hmm. Well. I walked over to the RVs and three ladies were standing there, having just finished a ride. I asked if they had any ideas. “Maybe put some wood under your tires?” They had some campfire wood and gave me a couple. I went back and tried it, and maybe made things worse.

I came back to give them their wood back and maybe call a tow truck. This time I met a guy who just hopped off a dirt bike. He’s all smiles, “How you doing?” I told him, “well… good, until I got my car stuck.” “No! You didn’t!” “Yep, I, uh, I’m kinda a dumbass.” “Well, no problem, let’s get you out!”

So he and his friend come over in some kind of Jeep. They’re mid-40s probably, we get talking, they’re from northern CA and do some kind of software thing too, we’re talking about work. Their sons are each there too. They try to latch a strap onto a tiny hook under the Yaris and drag it out, and the strap breaks. Eventually one of them suggests pushing it - hmm! I gun it, they push it, and sure enough I get it back on the road! Whew.

They’re talking about this big sand dune is a great spot for off-roading. “But you don’t want to be here at night, some of the locals come down - did you come from Fallon? It’s a different breed, I’ll tell you.” (editor’s note: huh? besides a note on the jukebox in the bar that said “no rap, R&B, hip-hop, screamo, or heavy metal”, I have no qualms with Falloners.) They recommend I go to a couple campsites up by Fallon. I ask, “But you can camp here, right?” They: “Yeah, but it gets so windy, it’s not great for tent camping.” I: eh, I’ll be OK. They raise an eyebrow.

I sit in my car for maybe 15 minutes trying to figure out what campsites they’re talking about, and I can’t. So I figure, ok, I’ll stay here. I get out to use the restroom and on my way back, they drive up in an ATV. I say, “I think I’ll stay here, it’s getting late and all.”

And the one guy gives me this intense, dire look that I’ve only seen in movies, and goes “Look. I’m gonna be straight with you, Dan. If I were you… get in your car, and drive that way, or that way.”

Side note: my friend Aaron tells this story about how he met The Colonel, a character in Squirrel Hill, while out walking at night; Colonel sees Aaron and yells “STOP!” And Aaron does the only reasonable thing to do when a stranger yells stop, and keeps walking. Then the Colonel yells “STOP!” again, and Aaron does the only reasonable thing to do when a stranger yells stop twice, and he stops.

Similarly, when someone warns me about camping for some vague undiscussed reason (in a place that they too are camping) once, I’ll blow it off. When he warned me that second time, I noped the hell out of there.

I still don’t even know what was going on! For now, I’m going with “they didn’t want me to know they were actually werewolves.”


Abel Tasman -

Yaaaa. Crossing Fallon off of my vacation list.

Daniel -

This is an excellent story! Sounds like the trip is working out well :)

Dan -

Haha. I don’t think there’s any problem with Fallon, really! I just don’t know what these guys' deal was.

Dan -

Yeah, I mean, that’s kinda always my goal, isn’t it? :)

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