Good morning and welcome to Summit Up, the world’s only daily column with more blisters than an overcooked campfire marshmallow.
Yes, we did it again. We gathered up some field agents and took a harrowing journey into the wilderness. Except this time, instead of tromping through the jungle, or fighting alongside Marxist guerrillas in South America or seeking the trickling source of springs in the Utah desert, we just wandered out our back door for a few days.
We saw some lakes. We hiked some hills. We ate some horribly salty dehydrated food and beat our bodies into submission carrying unbalanced packs. Ahhhhhh, nothing beats camping.
So now, as we mentioned, we’re dealing with the after-effects of a backcountry trek. There are blisters to bandage (about six on the feet at last count). There’s plenty of laundry to do. And, there’s the waiting and waiting to see if your water filter worked or if you’ll end up writhing under the influence of girardia in a few weeks.
The most amazing – and the most painful – part of this whole trip was not the scenery. It was not the grueling uphill trails. It was the mosquitoes. That’s right. In case you’d forgotten about them, they do exist here in Colorado. We know, hard to believe, right?
Living here, lo, these many years, we’d begun to take for granted how nice an insect-free life is. Those of us who hail from more humid parts can recall summers of houseflies, moths batting themselves silly against the porch light and how Fourth of July fireworks pale in comparison to a tree branch-slung bug zapper. The absence of creepy-crawlers, buzzy biters and possible inhaled protein is one of the reasons we love Summit Up Land.
However, if you happen to be in the vicinity of the lakes you find along the Gore Range, take some insect repellant. In fact, take a lot of it. Better yet, now that we think of it, just stay home. That is, unless you can convince the skeeters to suck the fluid out of your blisters and lay off the blood. Wouldn’t that be perfect?
We don’t know about you, but we’re relaxing this fine Sunday. Seems like a porch-swing day, at least till the rain comes. Any inspiration you happen to find, pass some our way at firstname.lastname@example.org, fax at (970) 668-0755 or just make buzzing noises on the voicemail at (970) 668-3998, ext. 237.
We’re out recuperating …
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