Lair of the Erymanthian Boar
There isn’t much on outskirts of this little ski town nestled in the mountains on New Mexico, except for the largest pig I’ve ever seen. At ten metres high, with a snotty pink snout and tusks the size of canoes, it is wild and scary. But according to my Sartyr friend Grover, it’s a blessing of the wild. So I road it. Imagine riding a giant steel brush over a bed of gravel all day. That’s about how comfortable boar-riding is.