"Good lord", I think I said to myself, it was the middle of January, it was still hovering at the freezing point at best during the day, and no one really seemed to know what the condition of the road out the south was in, or even if it was open.
I do know a thing or two about motorcycles, and a fun weekend ride like this is going to sort out the serious riders from the less inclined pretty quickly. I wrote back in a thinly veiled attempt to dissuade them from such a harebrained idea, but added that in the off chance her and her friends on their motorbikes actually make it this far, any survivors would be welcome to use the guest cabin.
Can't say I was completely surprised when no one showed up Saturday afternoon. Probably turned around at the first ice patch and warming their hands over a pitcher of beer down at the Sasquatch Inn was my guess. Once the sun went down and ice crystals began to form outside I had almost forgotten about them when I look and see two headlights coming down the driveway. They parked under the light out front and shut down, turned off the satellite navigation gear and unplugged their heated underwear. Turns out it wasn't much of a ride at all for this adventure seeking brother and sister duo.