We set out to fulfill our late father’s wish to visit Black Canyon of the Gunnison National Park, the place where he had his first heart problems. With the spirit of adventure, we left Denver on a sunny summer afternoon, driving through beautiful, windy roads towards Gunnison. After four hours on the road, we arrived late at night, eager to start our journey the next morning.

At the hotel, we asked the front desk about getting to the park, only to learn that Interstate 50 was closed due to a bridge inspection failure. Our only option was a detour via Crested Butte, Kebler Pass, and the town of Crawford to reach the north rim. The front desk man assured us it was prettier than the south rim, though much less frequented.

First off, Kebler Pass was a nightmare with drop-offs on either side of the narrow road. The conditions were so bad, our car was practically begging us to turn back. But no, we pressed on, driving 30 miles without seeing a single sign of civilization. We had a hunch we were in for trouble.

After escaping the treacherous Kebler Pass, we hoped to make up for lost time. We arrived at a town and asked for directions again, only to find our GPS and phones were practically useless. We missed a crucial turn and went 10 miles out of our way before our GPS came to life, screaming at us to turn around. My wife, the human GPS, confirmed we were indeed heading the wrong way. We drove back and finally reached Crawford.

In Crawford, we asked locals for directions to the park, each giving us a different route. We eventually chose one and drove towards Black Canyon, arriving around noon. Just a mile away from the park, disaster struck: our back tire started leaking air from a big hole. The ranger station was closed, no help in sight, and our phones were dead.

There was no time to visit the park. We had to fix the tire. Lacking a spare, we quickly got back in the car and drove away, hoping to reach Crawford before the tire went completely flat. Miraculously, the tire held its pressure for the 10-mile drive back. We found a gas station that sold patches, but my attempts to fix the tire were comically futile. After much pushing and shoving, the patch stuck, and we managed to drive another 15 miles to a garage.

The mechanics were amazed we made it so far with a leaky tire. They fixed it for $20, just before their lunch break. By 2 PM, we were back on the road, heading to our next destination, Mesa Verde National Park.

We couldn’t help but feel that dad was sending us a sign to skip Black Canyon this time. Despite our disappointment, we were thankful for making it through the ordeal safely. With a mix of sadness and excitement, we headed to Cortez, Colorado, for our next adventure, promising ourselves to return to Gunnison another day.

And that’s how we hilariously missed Gunnison National Park. Despite the setbacks, we remained hopeful for our journey ahead.