We drove out to UNH so Chris could practice throwing the 16 lb. metal ball 180 ft like normal.Then, we decided to ride our bikes onto a pretty forest bike trail adventure. After about 20 minutes of leisure biking, we got sucked off of the main path and onto a (in my journal I drew a picture of a hilly rocky muddy rooty mosquito-ridden nontrail, but I cannot draw on the computer screen and if I did, you would still not be able to see it and my computer would be damaged.) Anyway, we got sucked off the path. After about 30 miles, we deadended into a rushing river. Chris and I decided that, since twilight was approaching and the temperature was bound to drop to 30, we would have to cross. So with the power of Hercules, Chris stacked both bikes and his weary wife on his shoulders and waded into the waist-deep white water. His feet stayed steady and we talked about spices and youtube videos as we went. We emerged safely on the other side with out noses to a 30-foot wall of granite! Chris ascended it as easily as Andre the giant did the cliffs of insanity in the Princess Bride and unloaded me and the bikes from his back at the top. To our surprise, there was a skilled Spanish swordsman waiting for us there. Chris was quite tired but he broke off the high bar from his bike and assumed battle position. The swordsman asked Chris, “What is your name?” “Christopher .” “What is your quest?” “To take my damsel safely from Mirkwood.” “What is the airspeed velocity of an unladen swallow?” Naturally, Chris asked it the swallow was African or European. As soon as Chris asked this, the Spaniard was supernaturally flung from the cliff. So Chris resautered his high bar and we rode home for dinner.
Okay so maybe the nonpath hit a stagnant, mosquito-ridden stream AND Chris carried the bikes and me across individually AND we ascended a slippery mud slope then hopped our bikes and rode home. But which story would you tell?