July 26: Blasted bugs

Eliza's poor feet have reached their limit today. Her sneakers, having thus far carried her over 900 miles along this rough and rocky trail, henceforth shall carry her no further. Tomorrow, as a minor detour and change of plans, we are going to hitch, first thing, into Sisters, OR, 15 miles east at Santiam Pass, and try to find her dogs a new home.

Hiking felt long today; the scenery, beautiful and varied. The summer sun, the heat, the wind, the cool alpine lakes -- it can seem so blessed out here. It can also, however, at a bend in the trail tread, turn into a living hell. The mosquitoes have gotten to be more than just a nuisance. They are a bane, a merciless predator, an unstopable foe. The villainous beasts have a method of madness. Their tenacity is unmatched; their style, unpredictable; their blood thirst, insatiable. I hate the damn things, passionately. And I fear for the future, that they will only get worse over the course of the next few weeks. Why is it that at one turn a flock of neck biters reside? What makes the relentless ear buzzers stay near the ear? What makes the back of a man's arm so damn desirable to the shoulder floaters? And why don't any of these madenning insect sub-groups ever seem to intermingle? It's always one or the other -- legs or arms, face or neck.

But again, I fear the future. One day, on the eve of their seasonal passing, perhaps, they will surely come together, posse by vile posse, to form the ultimate deadly man-eating swarm. I fear the day. May the snows finally melt away and the mosquitoes make their last lunch on human flesh. What do they eat other than people anyway? Do they suck on deer ears? Could they ever penetrate a bear's matted hair?

***

We wave goodbye to the beautiful peaks of northern Oregon today, and welcome the dry, arid soils of the central highlands. Mt. Washington and the Three Sisters have shown themselves this afternoon and we've come around the craggy cliffs of Three-Fingered Jack.

We are camped at an unpleasant angle here tonight. We're excited for the unexpected town stop tomorrow.

We saw two fawns again today. Startled by our passing, they bounded one by one from their trailside hideaway under a fallen tree trunk. I wonder how long a doe will suckle her fawns before leaving them to their own designs.

***

I've started shooting little movie clips with my digital camera. Tomorrow I'll send a memory chip back to my mother and hopefully she'll be able to view them.