That night at Benson Lake i thought i had bad mosquitoes. The trails before and after it i had the same thought. The trail after Wilma Lake taught me otherwise.
The air was thick with insect. Any exposed flesh that remained stationary for even one moment had multiple bugs probing for blood. Any meat in motion would come under assault in mere seconds. With a cloth in one hand and a handkerchief in the other i whirled, putting up a swirling fabric shield that was mostly functional at keeping them at bay.
It was not enough. The cunning bugs found cracks in my defenses and i am covered in their bites. They dove in through the fabric on my shoulders. A bold one tried to bite my eyelid. Some of the more frisky ones found their way up my skirt.
Every couple of steps i had to land a targeted strike on one that found purchase. I stopped wiping away the bodies. Were they trophies? Signs of warning in an attempt to scare them away? Maybe i was hoping to cover my skin with their essence and pass through unnoticed.
I started to question my place on the food chain. Can one die from too many mosquito bites? I felt powerless, like i was trying to fight the wind. The relentless insect gale buzzed on endlessly.
I have three scabs on the front of my right leg. One on the side. One on my left knee. Any other blemish was immediately vilified and struck down. Was it bug or was it just mud? They both squish on contact. The strikes flew freely.
When it came time to stop i threw up my tent and dove inside. Nine of them made it inside with me. The first eight went down easy. The ninth i struggled to defeat. After about a minute of the hunt i cornered it and smeared it along the mesh exterior of my tent. I left the body hanging where i struck it down.
My tent was overrun on the outside. I stopped counting at 75.
The next morning i dove into battle once more, mere miles away from the Yosemite border. As i left that godforsaken land i contemplated how every bite they successfully landed meant the birth of a multitude of bugs in the future.
Thankfully the trail got real cool real quick, way cooler than Yosemite was. I made it to Bridgeport this morning, officially out of scary bear country. I would send home my bear can here but my backpack is falling apart so i’m gonna play the field a bit in Tahoe. My current pack weighs almost 5 pounds so it’s easy weight to drop, but I wouldn’t be surprised if i got the same backpack but one size bigger on the torso. yay gear talk!
this past gadget, he doesn’t know how poor a backpack can treat him. the red menace was also not sized right, but at least it regularly treated the body okay.
love the name of this one. content too, good show past me.
i hiked with the starship troopers book near the end of my AT but i didn’t read it.
i didn’t mention how i had to pee in the middle of the night. the assault was still active. it was not a peaceful experience.
pee-ceful
man i dunno 