Flintstones? Or Rubbles?

Recently we went on a ride to visit the "Flintstone House." Our first attempt to reach it was blocked by a rock wall so steep, we chose not to try climbing it.

The "back door" approach took us up a sand dune hill that stopped our tires, so we let gravity help us back up to turn around, but stopping only made us get so stuck that our tires spun sand up into the air... 

...until they were half buried!

Bob was prepared with a winch, and pulled it toward some handy bushes to tie it around to help pull ourselves out.

But before we got the winch cable anchored on anything, a bunch of people stopped to help pull and push us out of the sand. 
I thought they'd saved our lives, but Bob said that even if they hadn't come along, the winch would have probably pulled the bush out of the ground, and then we could have dug sand out from beside the tires and put the bush there for traction and gotten ourselves out.
(Sounds so hot and sweaty, I'm extra glad the people stopped to help us!)

One of them even took Bob to an overlook to see where the Flintstone House was.

"Just over there."

(Ack! The sand tried to eat our ride, and now it's eating Bob!)

It didn't take much thought for us to decide that we appreciated where we were, with medium solid ground beneath our tires on the edge of the sand dunes.

The rock formations where we ended up still looked like a house...kind of.

So if we couldn't get to the Flintstone House safely, then we'd just explore their neighbors, the Rubble's, house!

We decided this must be their kitchen, with all the little shelves and cupboards in the wall.

Carolyn's ready to stay awhile!

So I'm curious to know...if you got stuck in the sand on a journey to a particular destination, would you stop where you were to enjoy what was around you?

Or would you take getting stuck as in lesson in how not to get stuck, and persevere in your travels until you reached your original goal?