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Guest
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Let’s hear ‘em.
Despite the blackflies, mosquitoes, greenflies, sand flies, ticks, chiggers (I really hate chiggers) and the like, the most memorable bug episodes have had little to do with the usual backcountry challenges. I already offered this
There is a lot more to that tale. There was a single (sizable) bug sharing the truck cap with me as I sat reading, flying annoying noisy circles around my head but never actually landing, so I let him live. When I was ready to turn off the reading light I told him “Welp, time to kill your arse” and prepared to swat him. I had no sooner gotten out the last “ss” than he flew on a bee line (but more beetle shaped), and with seeming intent, straight into my ear canal.
I was 20 miles of dirt road from pavement, 30 miles of pavement from any help, and a little freaked out. Being dark out I never actually saw if I flushed out the carcass, which was also disconcerting for a few days, especially thinking I might begin to hear mubzzuubbb, mubzzuubbb in my other ear.
And this
The tailgate tent failure reminded me of one more. The worst night’s sleep ever in the Taco. Or any earlier capped truck bed.
Soon after I had done the initial outfitting on the tripping truck, including bugproofing the cap door and tailgate with puzzle pieces of foam weather stripping and minicel until it was light tight, I headed north on a multi-week trip.
That trip included a stopover at DougD’s place, where we spent an enjoyable day sitting by the truck, drinking considerable beer and playing show and tell with boats and gear. I was in and out of the truck bed so often I sometimes neglected to close the cap door. Meh, I’m coming back in just a minute.
It did not seem at all buggy as we sat and shot several bulls, and I told Doug that I would probably leave pre-dawn and head for Maine. It was, at first, a fine night’s sleep.
But around 3am I awoke to a distinct zzzzzz and the occasional pesky mosquito bite. The zzzzzz was weirdly focused, so I turned on a flashlight and found the source; a small but dense swarm of 50 mosquitoes piled into each corner of the cap roof over my head.
After some minutes of trying to swat that mass the effort was proving comically futile. I’m not getting any sleep back here and 3am is pre-dawn. Time to hit the road. Bless his heart Doug came out with a cup of coffee for me at 5am only to find me gone.
I have ever since become far more conscious to close the cap door every time, and even limit repeat access when it is buggy out. Kinda like keeping the screen on the tent doors zipped closed. Well duh, whoulda thunk it.
Got bug tales?
Despite the blackflies, mosquitoes, greenflies, sand flies, ticks, chiggers (I really hate chiggers) and the like, the most memorable bug episodes have had little to do with the usual backcountry challenges. I already offered this
I won’t freak you out with the sizable bug that flew into my ear. The bug that I reflexively, and unwisely, pushed further in with the tip of my pinky. Or the ever-more-faint mubzzuubbb, mubzzuubbb sound it made. Or, that it seemed worse when it stopped going mubzzuubbb, mubzzuubbb deep inside my head some minutes later.
There is a lot more to that tale. There was a single (sizable) bug sharing the truck cap with me as I sat reading, flying annoying noisy circles around my head but never actually landing, so I let him live. When I was ready to turn off the reading light I told him “Welp, time to kill your arse” and prepared to swat him. I had no sooner gotten out the last “ss” than he flew on a bee line (but more beetle shaped), and with seeming intent, straight into my ear canal.
I was 20 miles of dirt road from pavement, 30 miles of pavement from any help, and a little freaked out. Being dark out I never actually saw if I flushed out the carcass, which was also disconcerting for a few days, especially thinking I might begin to hear mubzzuubbb, mubzzuubbb in my other ear.
And this
Also excellent for a mayfly hatch, the likes of which I have never seen. For several miles it was like driving in a heavy snowstorm with limited visibility, in part because the air was clouded with wings, in larger part because every snowflake” went SPLAT against the windshield.
That built up to a thick bugsludge the consistency of creamy peanut butter pushed aside the smeary windshield before I exited the cloud.
I should say “we” exited the sludge. Every single westbound car exited at Lordsburg and lined up at the then one lonely gas station. In a line. To use the squeegee.
The tailgate tent failure reminded me of one more. The worst night’s sleep ever in the Taco. Or any earlier capped truck bed.
Soon after I had done the initial outfitting on the tripping truck, including bugproofing the cap door and tailgate with puzzle pieces of foam weather stripping and minicel until it was light tight, I headed north on a multi-week trip.
That trip included a stopover at DougD’s place, where we spent an enjoyable day sitting by the truck, drinking considerable beer and playing show and tell with boats and gear. I was in and out of the truck bed so often I sometimes neglected to close the cap door. Meh, I’m coming back in just a minute.
It did not seem at all buggy as we sat and shot several bulls, and I told Doug that I would probably leave pre-dawn and head for Maine. It was, at first, a fine night’s sleep.
But around 3am I awoke to a distinct zzzzzz and the occasional pesky mosquito bite. The zzzzzz was weirdly focused, so I turned on a flashlight and found the source; a small but dense swarm of 50 mosquitoes piled into each corner of the cap roof over my head.
After some minutes of trying to swat that mass the effort was proving comically futile. I’m not getting any sleep back here and 3am is pre-dawn. Time to hit the road. Bless his heart Doug came out with a cup of coffee for me at 5am only to find me gone.
I have ever since become far more conscious to close the cap door every time, and even limit repeat access when it is buggy out. Kinda like keeping the screen on the tent doors zipped closed. Well duh, whoulda thunk it.
Got bug tales?