It was the Water Festival this weekend in the quaint little town of Abita Springs. On this special day, we celebrate the magical healing powers of our water. We also drink lots of beer because it, too, is made from our miraculous water. But before we could partake of the Water Festival jubilations, my husband and I had to get there. We live a few miles away from the town center, you see. Now, normally, we would've just hopped in the truck and journeyed on down to the hoedown, but we didn't want to travel that way. Thus we decided to dust off our bicycles and go on a little adventure. We wanted to take back roads to avoid the highway, but we didn't have a route in mind. Enter: handy dandy GPS on the iphone. Husband and I peddled along happily, enjoying the virtues of modern technology. However, when we arrived at Magnolia Street, there was no Magnolia Street. All that was there was a long, naked expanse of land used to relay gas and power lines from one end of town to the other. "Why not just ride down here - do a little off-roading?" I ask. "Yeah," says husband, "I bet this connects directly to town." "From the looks of this GPS, it sure does!" I say, excitedly. How silly we were, how innocent. The first thing that happened is that I didn't realize how deep the little puddle of water was that we needed to cross. All of a sudden I was up to my mid-calves in muddy water. I could feel the pollywogs slithering around my ankles. I was certainly leaches were attaching themselves to me. Yet, we kept going. As we progressed, the water got deeper, the mud got stickier, and the ravines got higher. At the points we couldn't ride, husband suggested I roll the bike ahead of me, to be sure to get the water moccasins out of my path. Ew. And still, we pushed on. We pushed on until reached a ravine so high, with waters so deep, that there was no way to cross. When we reached this point, we seemed to have frightened an alligator, who slithered back into the muddy waters. "Oh, hell no!" I shuddered. So, we had to re-trace the journey all the way back home. We then loaded the bikes in the back of the truck and drove to the Water Festival, where the magical beer healed us, indeed.