This campground had sites across a wide shallow stream, with a line of stepping stones as the only manner of ingress. We began clambering across, gripping tent, sleeping bags, stove, golfbag of aluminum tubes, and victuals and had made it about halfway when the mosquitos found us. Mosquitos like I'd never experienced before. Lots of 'em. XXL. Possessed of a mad hunger. We briskly about-faced on the stones and retreated with shouts and imprecations. We hurriedly tumbled everything into the jeep and slammed the doors, frantically killing the many bugs that had followed us in. Then we marveled at the hundreds (OK, less than a hundred) that still beat against the windows in a mad attempt to get at us. Thoroughly creeped out, and already swelling from many bites, we drove on.
We decided to drive all night as I remember, intent on putting as many miles as possible between us and the winged vampiric horror. But we had to stop for gas in a few hours, and even there, fear lay heavy upon the land. We jumped out of the car and pushed open the screen door of a two-pump gas station and tiny store — into a choking cloud of bug spray! It seems one employee's sole job at this establishment was to sit on a stool just inside and fog the doorway with Raid whenever anyone entered or left. I got some coins from the cashier and ran out to a phone booth, closing myself inside and spending a couple of minutes killing mosquitos, before calling my friend Pamela in KY.
Minutes later we were on the road again, and didn't stop for a long time.
2 comments:
Now that's a memory that didn't even need to be stimulated. I remember this quite clearly . . . particularly the size of these mosquitos. And I had no idea that such insects lived in that part of the world!
boy oh boy do i remember that. i can still see me slapping at the damn bugs inside the jeep. that was just horrible. i know it happend somewhere between spokane and denver, but i'm fuzzy as to the exact whereabout..
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