Mosquitos

I put my battle armor on, knowing I’m going to lose the fight, but hoping for the least impact. Pants, thick socks, long sleeved tee shirt.  I take a deep breath.  Unzip my tent, hop out onto my tevas, rezip, run to pee, run back, fall into the tent as fast as possible.  Kill mosquitos inside tent as fast as possible 1-gotcha-2-3!....12-13-14….37-38-39-40.  Forty mosquitos in my tent.  Again! They’re all smooshed, I can breathe again.  They continue to swarm outside, the battle inside the tent didn’t so much as dent their numbers.  My hands and ankles and bum itch like crazy.  I apply the anti-itch (active ingredient: ammonia) and gladly take the smell of urine over the maddening itch.  

I check in with my back.  Are you well enough to keep going today?  It says…probably. The current of the river flows past as I look outside my tent.  Even if I just hopped in and didn’t paddle, I could make some time.  But that means another battle with the mosquitos.  The one that drives me mad—the one where they bite me mercilessly while I struggle with the neoprene cover for my hatches and can’t swat them away because I have to complete my task before I shove off.  It takes a great deal of mental fortitude and discipline to go knowingly into this losing battle every day. I want to ask the paddlers who have gone before me if the mosquitos get better…but I’m afraid they might say it gets worse…so I haven't asked.