The plan was to fish the Coho opener but the sea was choppy, and the reports spotty, so we didn’t launch. Instead we knocked around town like coffee and scone fueled castaways, visiting friends and investigating crimes.
For a while we watched tourists get stuck in the sand. Down the ramp they would come but at the end of the concrete they would suddenly stop as the realization minivans aren’t made for sand suddenly dawned. But it was too late, on the single lane ramp behind them were five more vehicles close behind. No turning back, no escape.
Sometimes they’d make it 20′ before getting stuck and others, the timid ones, would sink right off the end of the ramp. But the crowd on the beach was good natured and it wasn’t long before the ramp would clear and helpful hands would push and heave the cars back onto the concrete and on their way to freedom.
Me, I avoid driving on sand but here are some helpful hints. Lots of power, four wheel drive, and for serious loose sand, under-inflated tires. Seriously. Maybe run 10-15 pounds. Keep moving and stay on the gas or you will sink. Don’t stop until you’re on firm sand.
But the best way to avoid getting stuck in the sand is not to drive on it at all.
My fellow castaways “left for the valley” Sunday at noon but I decided to stay over and leave the following day. Feeling “artsy” and creative I spent Sunday afternoon in aimless, blissful wandering, eventually finding myself on an isolated section of beach late in the day.
Beach. Cape in the distance.
On the way home Monday morning the old Ford started running rough as soon as I hit the highway. Judging from the tach the ignition was cutting out so I pulled over. Eventually I decided the drive over on Friday in the 100 degree heat must have cooked the Dura-spark ignition module. Fortunately though I had a spare “spark box” and it wasn’t long before it was swapped out and I was on my way again.
Note to self, pick up another ignition module.