We made it to where the real adventure was to begin. As a kid I read "Where the Sidewalk Ends." It made an impression. And in adulthood I find myself not-coincidentally drawn to roads like this:
Doing shit like this:
And this (throwing boulders off of cliffs. Take that Sisyphus!)
And drinking tequila. It was Cinco de Mayo after all.
Oh yeah, and most of the above happened after we had blown out a tire on a stiletto rock that had been strategically placed by the inimical hands of fate. We fucked around after plugging it with three patches, waiting for a compressor that was about 5hp short of having 5hp to fill the 265/70-17 Terra Grappler to 30psi.