Love at first sniff

I was crouched behind a fallen pine, watching the boys perform their usual river ritual: strapping on several thousand dollars of specialized equipment so they could intentionally throw themselves into chaotic water.

Then the wind shifted.

And there it was.

An irresistible aroma. Something powerful.

Earthy. Smoky. Slightly skunky. With subtle notes of neoprene, campfire, and what I can only describe as what puts the funk in the river funk.

My nostrils flared.

My primitive wilderness brain immediately reached one conclusion:

I need to bottle that up. For research purposes of course.

I'm going to strike when the timing is right. Meanwhile, I'll be in the bushes...