The morning followed it’s normal flow. Pack up and get going before the mosquitoes stirred for breakfast. Because that’s what we were. As we had camped in an unusual bend in the river I had to walk far for my morning constitution. This I did. I found a nice isolated spot, And in the midst of my business a hiker walked by. Apparently my wanderings had drawn me back to the PCT like blood to an artery. I rushed to maintain the shreds of my dignity.

A heatwave was in the air and the mercury raced upward as the morning wore on. Thus I was happy to enter a flat forest of crowded pine. The shade was magical and the quiet immense. I stopped and listened. Nothing. Even the nearby stream was a silent float. Slowly the birdcalls and insect buzz entered the audio picture. I just stood there and took it all in. My forest of Zen. I tried to keep my focus on the quiet as I followed the trail but as always my mind revolted and wandered off in its own direction.

Climbed down into a canyon to Virginia Creek. Described as a sometimes dangerous Ford, in this low-water year I didn’t even get my feet wet. Caught up with my friends here for lunch and mosquitoes. Then climbed up and out of the canyon along a creek lined with slabs of granite. Then through a series of undulating mini passes that were just right. There was no stopping as the mosquito nation has declared war. Even on the move they were at you. So much beauty but no ability to stop and stare. Imagine being in the Louvre trying to take all the art in but with hundreds of mosquitoes trying to eat you. You get the picture but really you can’t see it.

Fred 2 graduated from Mosquito Academy in a class of 2,785,000. There he learned to identify blood bags, hunt them, extract life force and survive their aggression. He was tight with Fred one, three, four and seven and they made a pact to drain blood together. On their first day out they hovered in a shaded forest as taught. It wasn’t long before a blood bag approached at an incredible speed. Fred 4 in his high pitched drawl said excitedly “let’s do this.” And in they went. Why Fred two hung back, he will never know, but he did. Fred three went first. His approach was good on the long bottom stick mechanisms of the blood bag, through which blood was coursing, but he got tangled up in the matting and crashed to earth. Fred one landed at direct center of the blood bag where they had been taught the organ that pumps lifeblood is located. Tragically the organ was shielded by protective fabric. As Fred one plunged his extractor hopelessly the five pronged killing web of the blood bag smashed him without mercy. Fred seven flew directly into a hole at the front of the round top part of the blood bag never to be seen again. His scream marked his passage into the darkness. Fred two followed Fred four in. He had an instinct, and was willing to bet his life on it. Fred four landed cleanly on the front, top, flat section of the blood bag and plunged his extractor quickly. Quicker still was the five pronged web that killed him as he drank. Such horror. The sound was sickening, but also Fred twos chance. As the webb rested on Fred four. Fred two lightly touched down on it’s back. The blood bag did not notice. Sliding his Excalibur in, Fred two grinned as the nectar of life engorged him. Later, resting on the bottom of a leaf, Fred two wondered “why me to live and the others to their death?” It was a good forest for thought.

I scratched the bite on my hand as I climbed Benson pass. The goal was Benson lake on the far side. It was a race with the building thunderstorm making its way in the same direction. I crested the pass at the same time Billygoat arrived in the opposite direction. The conversation was short as the mosquitoes controlled the pass in direct violation of the No mosquitoes above 10,000 feet rule. I was happy to put the pass and it’s storm behind me as I have little luck with lightning. I’ve been knocked off my feet by it, had my house struck by it, and had a friend killed by it.

The descent to Benson lake was long and pounding, but also a visual feast. The swamp before the lake was not, but it’s bite toll was worth the sandy beaches and breeze of the lake itself. Had a swim and waited for the others. A ranger showed up and checked my hiking permit, a first on the PCT. The others arrived as Did the mosquitoes en force. Their patient ambush a success. It was a massacre. Soon we were all trapped in our individual cubicles as the murderous hordes circled. The sound of their fabric ramming like raindrops. But soon I was in Italy as a flipped the pages of “the sojourn” oblivious to the wants and needs of my enemy and their blood bag lust.