Well -- I am reading, as is my wont, another book about a an epic journey, and have to admit, I am quite enjoying myself. I feel a bit self-absorbed. Injured foot. Good book. Nothing better to do really. Great weather. It's Bill Bryson's book A Walk in the Woods, which chronicles his effort to hike the Appalachian Trail. It's quite funny and entertaining.
... It was only nine miles over easy terrain, but the black fly made it a torment. I have never seen a scientific name for these vile, winged specks, so I don't know what they are but a hovering mass that goes with you wherever you go and are forever in your ears, mouth and nostrils. Human sweat transports them to orgasmic ecstasy. They are particularly relentless when you stop to rest, or take a drink -- so relentless that eventually you don't stop to rest and you drink while moving, and then spit out a tongueful of them. It's kind of a living hell. ...
Reading this I burst into laughter and remember sitting in a classroom when the conversation somehow turns to the subject of blackflies biting ... someone or something of that nature. One of my fellow students starts to laugh because she is remembering something funny and I, of course am laughing now because I remember the same thing.
You see we, her and I, had recently been camping together in the Ventana Wilderness on an exceptionally hot summer day. We found this incredible rock bowl just a few yards or so from our camp. It was about 15 yards deep and 20 yards in diameter, just high enough to hide us from any passers by, shady and small enough so we could feel intimate. We spontaneously decided to take off our clothes and play in that rock bowl for a while. Quickly stripping our clothes off and throwing them into a pile, we scaled the side of the bowl. naked, and danced down into the center of the bowl, absolutely prepared for our own orgasmic ecstasy.
Hordes of blackflies immediately descended on us, drinking our sweat and biting the most delicate parts of our bodies repeatedly. We tried desperately to ignore them. They were relentless. Despite our delight, we were immediately compelled to return to our clothes.
Which, we had piled on an anthill.