Bugs and Bats

It has finally happened. After a half century of tromping and paddling throughout the vast recesses of the Adirondacks, I was finally forced to throw in the towel. I felt like a battered boxer, but I probably looked more like a puffy, cranberry muffin.

It happened just last weekend, while I was fishing on the small ponds near Lake Clear. With a blizzard of buzzing of mosquitoes in hot pursuit, I was actually chased from the woods.

Never before have I experienced bugs so thick, so ravenous and in such abundance. The buzzing was incessant and there was no escape. I was forced to give up.

Mind you, I was prepared, sporting a full arsenal of bug dopes, sprays and other concoctions. I wore long pants, which were tucked into tall, rubber boots and my head net was covered by the tight collar of a turtleneck shirt.

I had taken proper precautions to insure that no patch of skin was available, beyond the fingers I had cut from cotton gloves to allow me to fish. I sprayed on plenty of bug dope, swatted when I could and even considered drinking a bit at the height of the battle. I knew whiskey wouldn't help, but I figured it couldn't hurt either as I already had a buzz going on.

After absorbing as much torment as one could possibly bear, I decided to call it a day. With the cloud of mosquitoes in hot pursuit, I stashed my canoe along the shoreline and turned tail for the trailhead, about a twenty-minute hike.

A buzzing grey cloud accompanied me on the frenetic foray that followed. Mosquitoes filled the car as I quickly slid in through a small crack in the door.

Although fully encapsulated by glass and metal, I was still under fire. There were nearly as many mosquitoes on the inside of the windshield as there were on the outside.

Vote on this Story by clicking on the Icon


Use the comment form below to begin a discussion about this content.

Sign in to comment