We awoke this morning to the awful droning hum of swarms of hungry insects hovering outside our tent. We were in a cloud of blood-thirsty mosquitoes. Leaving camp, hunkered down in our heaviest long sleeves, rain gear, head nets, mittens, the works, we set out miserably to face the day.
Before too long -- maybe three hours or so -- we had left the majority of the skeeters behind. We sat silently on an outcropping beside the trail, chewing on handfuls of nuts, breathing heavily as if we had just returned from battle. I peeled off my clothes and sat drying on a boulder facing the big rolling evergreen woods, the grey spackled lakes, the loose, hazy sky.
Overcast, breezy weather brought more relief throughout the day. The bugs were kept at bay almost entirely.
Eliza and I have spoken very little while hiking recently. We hike fast, keeping a two-and-a-half to three mph pace pretty consistently. We do take a great number of rest breaks.
We may be burning ourselves out. The mosquitoes certainly don't help. It's been twelve full days now that we've hiked without a substantial break. The little resort stops, cups of coffee, spontaneous dips in the lakes have been a great relief, but perhaps fall short of providing any genuine, restorative rest.
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