Somone's Not Chewing His Food Properly

Short Version:
Birds, beasts, trailer parks, a candidate for "World's Best Uphill Trail," and a toilet accident

Long Version:
Morning at Forest Lake started in bright sunshine, but clouds soon rolled in and the temerature plummeted. A flock of 30+ tiny waterfowl were floating, clustered together in front of our campsite, and mad/hungry/terrified fish continued to hurl themselves out of the water to significant heights. The sun reaeared at intervals throughout the morning, which we spent in camp, reading and writing, before heading in to town for a ride which started with a not-on-the-map haul up a hill through a trailer park.

We saw many trailer parks at Williams Lake, with huge variation in appearance between them. This one was by far the nicest, and it's entirely probable that if not for the sign saying "Trailer Park," we would have thought it a pleasant community of small but well-cared for homes with well-maintained gardens. Some of the others were not so nicely turned-out, and we were pleased to be viewing them from the highway rather than at close quarters, from our bikes.

Once through the trailer park and the neighboring construction zone, we found ourselves at a an intersection where several trails met. Unfortunately, it was the intersection at the bottom rather than at the top, so we turned left and rode along the powerlines access road, for a long time. In actual fact, the steep grovelly climbs and banal uncomfortable flat sections of this gravelly roadway were interspersed with some pretty excellent traverses and downhill sections on bike-specific trails - including the first few instances of what was to become a familiar happenstance for both of us on this ride: flying off jumps at speed to find ourselves very near direct-line trees to be struck or near-missed. At the northern edge of town the trail turned east and started to climb. Best uphill trail we've struck so far on the trip, and I can't for the life of me think of a better one in NZ either. Switchbacks, ramps, logs, roots - everything was there, and everything was rideable. It had great flow to it, which is mighty unusual in an up, and which when it does apear is usually killed off pretty quickly by shortcutters (the "Upland" trail at Woodhill is a prime example). Once at the top we had a rollicking good time blasting along an undulating ridgeline, with occasional views out over town and lake, and then a really sweet downhill run with a bit of everything thrown into the mix - including more mid-air "Surprise!" trees - back to the construction site.

A quick stop at the bike shop to check a modern map (we'd been riding using an old one, dished out as "current" by the Information Centre), then hauled back out to Forest Lake, where we saw deer at roadside on the way in. Back at the same campsite, the leaping fish continued to amaze and delight, but the real treat came when we heard a non-standard splashing, and found a young bear swimming not far from our spot. He walked out of the lake, shook himself vigorously, and then proceeded to tussle with another bear about his size; siblings, we surmised. The two of them wandered off into the woods, and we went back to reading, but it wasn't long afterwards that a chance glance along the shoreline showed one of them only 5m away and getting closer at a fair clip. Using my best Gandalf voice, I told her she would not be passing, and should go back. She did. Fast. Once again Nene's after-the-fact clap incurred both a speed increase and some reproachful backwards looks, and the closeness of the encounter had both of us hyper-aware of noises from the woods for the rest of the evening.

Next morning Janine attempted to ride her bike to the toilet, but fell off and scraped her knuckles. Staring fixedly at the mist on the lake surface, the jumping fish, and the proliferation of tiny birdies was great cover for stifled laughter, as was a scientific analysis of the bear poop on the edge of our camp: Judging from the presence of large quantities of whole berries, we hypothesise that someone's not chewing their food properly. And is, therefore, probably male.