Yesterday, I went out to the secret trails in Manchester. It was transcendent. Everything was flowing right, I saw several otters swimming in the Hockanum and solitude abounded. Today, I rode down to the Blow Hole and there are all sorts of people where there usually aren't and they were peeing. Also, I fell down an escarpment when my bike ghost shifted going up a steep thing. Then, I got into an altercation with some miserable middle-aged woman (damn, couldn't complete the alliteration) in Wethersfield. Originally, I had all this deep and philosophical stuff to say about the ride along the Hockanum, but today ruined that.