When RV life meets Murphy’s Law at North America’s tallest sand dunes
Night One: Setting Up Camp (And Our Lives)
There’s something magical about arriving at a new campsite and finally being able to *breathe*. After days of living like nomads in our trusty RV Reba, we had three whole nights to spread out, organize, and actually remember where we put the s’more sticks (spoiler alert: they’d be crucial later).
We even went full glamping mode and set up a little playpen for our pups, Aspen and Willow, creating the perfect makeshift patio under our awning. Picture this: two dogs living their best off-leash life while their humans sit back and watch nature’s own light show unfold.
And what a show it was! First came the mountain sunset – the kind that makes you question why you ever lived anywhere else. Then, as if the universe wanted to one-up itself, lightning began dancing across the clouds above the mountain tops. No fireworks needed when Mother Nature is putting on her own spectacular.
We capped off the evening with “Meet the Millers” – because nothing says “wilderness adventure” like watching a dysfunctional RV family on screen while living your own RV adventure. Meta? Maybe. Entertaining? Absolutely.
Day Two: The Great Battery Betrayal
Morning arrived with full sunshine and that crisp mountain air that makes you want to sleep with windows open forever. Todd dove into the park brochure (because someone has to be the responsible one), while I whipped up breakfast and we prepped our gear for the main event.
The Great Sand Dunes aren’t just impressive – they’re *intimidating*. We’re talking about the highest dunes in North America, some towering more than twice the height of the Statue of Liberty. Armed with our CamelBak backpacks and e-bikes, we embarked on the scenic 3-mile ride to these geological giants.
Those first couple hours of riding and hiking were pure magic. Aspen and Willow got to enjoy the air-conditioned luxury of Reba while we worked up a sweat exploring these massive sand sculptures.
But then… *the betrayal*. Todd’s bike battery decided it had had enough adventure for one day. No worries, we thought – we’ll just head back for lunch during peak heat anyway and pop that battery on the charger.
Plot twist: The chargers didn’t make the trip.
Cue the frantic searching. High and low, every nook and cranny of Reba got inspected. Nothing. Nada. Zilch.
The Great Charger Hunt of 2025
What followed was an epic quest worthy of its own documentary. Three different stores. Three different disappointments. Because apparently, in the wonderful world of modern technology, every battery needs its own special, proprietary charger that exists nowhere else in the universe.
The tech folks have really outdone themselves with this one – it’s like they sat around a conference table and said, “You know what would be fun? Making it impossible to find replacement chargers anywhere!” Mission accomplished, tech people. Mission accomplished.
As stores began closing their doors on our dreams, we retreated to camp, defeated but not broken.
Day Three: The Pup Cart Solution
The next morning brought a moment of brilliant problem-solving. Why stress about the battery situation when we could test just how far two bars of power could take us? Enter the pup cart – our secret weapon for transporting two very spoiled puppies who were about to experience the ride of their lives.
The good news: We made it to the visitor center! The hiking was lovely, the dogs were thrilled with their chariot, and for a moment, all was right with the world.
The bad news: Physics is a cruel mistress. Just as I was conquering the last hill before our campsite, my bike battery decided to go into early retirement. What followed was a heroic display of determination, featuring yours truly heaving, pedaling, and praying my way up that incline.
I may have parked right beside Reba, but I also parked myself in a reclining chair with an ice pack and a good book for the next hour. Some victories come with a price, and apparently, mine was a very achy back.
Tina to the Rescue (Sort Of)
Enter our hero, Tina, who volunteered to drive back to the abandoned homestead where we’d stayed previously – surely we’d left the chargers there! She was joined by our neighbor Anne in what was shaping up to be the adventure movie none of us signed up for.
For thirty minutes, they searched with the dedication of archaeological explorers. Videos were sent. Pictures were analyzed. Hope was maintained.
Then Anne, bless her logical soul, suggested checking places Todd might have actually stashed the chargers. You know, like a glove compartment or… *the tiny cubby above the door that neither Todd nor I had thought to check*.
There they were. Just sitting there. Judging us.
Celebration and Mysteries
Todd’s suggestion for a flashlight disco party was temporarily postponed by the discovery that we had no hot water. But our man is becoming quite the RV whisperer, and soon we were back in business.
Our final evening at Great Sand Dunes featured the perfect combination of pulled BBQ chicken sandwiches, aggressive biting flies, and a crackling bonfire. Thankfully, the cool mountain air eventually sent those pesky bugs packing – small mercies!
Onward to Mesa Verde
Tomorrow brings a four-hour mountain drive to Mesa Verde National Park. Will we remember all our chargers? Will the bikes behave? Will we discover new and creative ways to complicate simple tasks?
Stay tuned for the next chapter of our continuing education in “How to Turn a Relaxing RV Trip into an Adventure Series.”
*P.S. - The sand dunes really are spectacular. Just maybe bring backup chargers. And check all the cubbies. Trust me on this one.*
*Follow our adventures as we learn that the best stories come from the moments when everything goes just a little bit wrong.*
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