We had already been through 13 water crossings on the ride, each of them a little deeper and a little colder, as we went. Bill had assured us the trail was rideable, and we had scheduled it as a club ride, open to all levels. For the most part, everyone had given up on staying dry, and we all just waded through the knee deep, then thigh deep, then waist deep water of the crossings.
We finally came to what Bill swore was the last water crossing. The only problem was that the crossing was about 10 yards wide, and we couldn't see the bottom. Plus, the water was flowing out from under a snow shelf, so we knew it was going to be extra freaking cold.
"Let's just turn around," someone said.
"No, no," Bill said. "It's rideable. I've ridden it, before."
Since Bill was going to ride it, I decided I would give it a shot, as well. So, the two of us rode into the water. Halfway across, the water was up to the top tube of my bike, and I was struggling to maintain momentum. Suddenly, Bill hit something underwater, with his front wheel, and went over the bars into the water.
I swear that I saw his feet come up out of the water as he went over. Yet, somehow, when it was all over, he had managed to keep his head out of the frigid water, and his hair was still dry!
He waded back to the side of the creek, and conceded that we should turn around. Of course, that meant I had to ride back through the freezing cold water, again.
Oh, well. Once you're wet, you're wet...