were some sort of horsefly or beetle. But I quickly realized they were mosquitoes the likes of which we’d never seen before, and after making their acquaintance, I hoped we’d never see again. And I’d say, judging from the voracity with which they attacked, it must have been quite some time since they’d tasted human blood around these parts. Being the nasty little vampires that they were, and thirsting for our succulent, plasma-engorged flesh, they attacked us with the intensity of a hungry lion and with a swirling tornado-like force. They whipped around us, biting us, getting into our eyes, our ears, our noses, our mouths. It was almost impossible to see or to breathe or to think or to do anything other than run for the safety of our vehicle.
We dropped everything. I grabbed Cashmere. Claire grabbed Jason. And we all dove back into the SUV, slamming doors, rolling up windows, and spending the rest of the night sweating, scratching, and continuing to kill the tiny tormentors that had managed to sneak their way inside with us during our retreat.
The process of trying to get any sort of decent sleep was nearly impossible because just as one of us began to drift off, someone else would cough or slap at a mosquito or start scratching. Poor little Jason had gotten it particularly bad. He had little raised and itchy bumps all over his face, and he slept fitfully throughout the night, often crying out and then scratching himself until his skin bled. We’d have to hold him tight to keep him from scratching, which made it even more tortuous, and then he’d scream and cry and struggle and wake the rest of the group up if they weren’t awake already dealing with problems of their own.
The next morning, Will and I left the others in the car while we covered up as much exposed skin as possible, rushed outside the safety of the SUV, collected our camping supplies, tied them as best we could to the luggage rack, and beat it the heck out of there. We drove slowly on for the rest of the morning and pulled over at around noon to have lunch and take a short nap since everyone was still exhausted from their sleepless night.
It had been extremely slow going since we’d made it around the lake. Being low on fuel, we were doing our best to conserve at all costs. At times, the road was so flat that I’d take my foot off the accelerator and simply let the vehicle roll along at its idle speed to reduce fuel consumption. If our speed fell below walking pace or we came to a slight incline, I’d touch the accelerator as gently as I could until I could get us rolling again without my additional accelerator input. We were in no rush, so our snail’s pace really didn’t matter too much.
We couldn’t keep the vehicle’s windows open, since even during the day, the swarms of insects were overwhelming. They’d ram themselves against our windows in failed attempts to get at the tasty morsels within. About every 10 or 15 minutes – or however long it took before we could no longer bear the sweltering heat – I’d turn the air conditioner on for a minute, maybe two, getting it just cool enough inside so that it wasn’t stifling. Still, with all of us jammed into the tiny space, and with none of us having been able to shower in the past few days, the heat combined with the smell made it almost intolerable. Tempers were short to say the least, and tensions ran high.
We made it to just north of the Everglades Parkway before we ran out of gas. This left us with around 20 miles ahead of us to reach our destination – the sandy shores of Miami. 20 miles when we were back in southern Illinois or Tennessee might not have seemed all that bad. In fact, we might actually have enjoyed such a hike, but not here, not in the swamps of Florida, and definitely not during the peak of summer.
Having to continue our journey on foot was torturous. We could only travel during the daylight hours from
We dropped everything. I grabbed Cashmere. Claire grabbed Jason. And we all dove back into the SUV, slamming doors, rolling up windows, and spending the rest of the night sweating, scratching, and continuing to kill the tiny tormentors that had managed to sneak their way inside with us during our retreat.
The process of trying to get any sort of decent sleep was nearly impossible because just as one of us began to drift off, someone else would cough or slap at a mosquito or start scratching. Poor little Jason had gotten it particularly bad. He had little raised and itchy bumps all over his face, and he slept fitfully throughout the night, often crying out and then scratching himself until his skin bled. We’d have to hold him tight to keep him from scratching, which made it even more tortuous, and then he’d scream and cry and struggle and wake the rest of the group up if they weren’t awake already dealing with problems of their own.
The next morning, Will and I left the others in the car while we covered up as much exposed skin as possible, rushed outside the safety of the SUV, collected our camping supplies, tied them as best we could to the luggage rack, and beat it the heck out of there. We drove slowly on for the rest of the morning and pulled over at around noon to have lunch and take a short nap since everyone was still exhausted from their sleepless night.
It had been extremely slow going since we’d made it around the lake. Being low on fuel, we were doing our best to conserve at all costs. At times, the road was so flat that I’d take my foot off the accelerator and simply let the vehicle roll along at its idle speed to reduce fuel consumption. If our speed fell below walking pace or we came to a slight incline, I’d touch the accelerator as gently as I could until I could get us rolling again without my additional accelerator input. We were in no rush, so our snail’s pace really didn’t matter too much.
We couldn’t keep the vehicle’s windows open, since even during the day, the swarms of insects were overwhelming. They’d ram themselves against our windows in failed attempts to get at the tasty morsels within. About every 10 or 15 minutes – or however long it took before we could no longer bear the sweltering heat – I’d turn the air conditioner on for a minute, maybe two, getting it just cool enough inside so that it wasn’t stifling. Still, with all of us jammed into the tiny space, and with none of us having been able to shower in the past few days, the heat combined with the smell made it almost intolerable. Tempers were short to say the least, and tensions ran high.
We made it to just north of the Everglades Parkway before we ran out of gas. This left us with around 20 miles ahead of us to reach our destination – the sandy shores of Miami. 20 miles when we were back in southern Illinois or Tennessee might not have seemed all that bad. In fact, we might actually have enjoyed such a hike, but not here, not in the swamps of Florida, and definitely not during the peak of summer.
Having to continue our journey on foot was torturous. We could only travel during the daylight hours from
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