Organic hairly and fairly harvested perspiration

welcome to the drippy valley sweat ranch

I imagine that every ranch is hot.

Hot and sweaty.

And most ranch people are like their dressing.

Pungent and likely delicious.

Delicious like salty work-sweat.

Work sweat from the sweat ranch!

mmmmmmm.

work-sweat

You’ve done it.

You’ve enjoyed the taste of sweat.

At least once.

C’mon.

Admit it.

Delicious.

On the last ride

It was hot.

Really hot for here.

I soaked through a shirt taking the bikes out of the car. My pits were not pits. They were ponds. Ponds at the bottoms of a drippy valley.

We rode up dusty roads in a thousand hectare parcel owned by the province.

We pedaled up massive fiberglass or epoxy or something pipes. There were dams and signs warning that proceeding past this point may result in death by drowning.

I was already drowning. I was drowning in the sweat that was dripping from my helmet. The water in the lake looked appealing. I hoped we might find a distant shore where I could jump in and rinse some of the dust off. Apparently this wasn’t allowed. Apparently this was some sort of …