I’ve never before met such friendly skeeters. They flock to you by the dozens, but only bite once landing for 5+ seconds, and oftentimes never land. I’ve begun to suspect a governmental operation behind these strange behaviors, as the incessant swarms are enough to drive one batty. Head nets are a necessity (or Usain Bolt speed) to maintain some degree of sanity. Hikers greet one another with reports of the mosquitoes up ahead, most often denoting the use of a head net as a scale of the swarminess. We look at the map for high points, hopeful that the ridge will provide a breeze strong enough to blow the blood suckers askew. NOBO hikers scoff at SOBO hikers’ reports of “bad” mosquitoes after their encounters with the Mozzies of Christi’s Spring. Nighttime rituals are limited to within tent walls, and each entry/exit is as rapid as possible, followed by a mosquito slaying inside the tent. Bethani and I shake out the tent every other day just to clear the tent floor of dozens of vampire carcasses.
At least they don’t bite too hard… they love chewing on my wrists, and I think I’ve been indoctrinated into a forest gang of some sort, as the bites make all sorts of strange polygonal patterns on my hands. As an individual sensitive to insect venom, I’m especially thankful that these friendly fliers leave welts that last less than an hour, and little to no itching. But I do fear that high-pitched whining will continue to wake me in a cold sweat for many months to come…