June 2013: Bike Trip 9

I arrived at Cuiver River State Park in the evening, planning to spend two nights there.  The threatening sky had became a downpour before I arrived, so I ate dinner in the campground laundry room, perched on a drier; showered; set up my tent in the rain; read for an hour; and fell asleep. 

The next morning was beautiful -- from inside my tent, I could see the sun rising and a clear sky.  What I didn't see was the biggest challenge of spending a rest day at Cuiver River:  being driven bonkers by clouds of tiny gnats buzzing constantly around my head, flying into my ears, climbing up my nose, adding themselves to my breakfast, and doing what felt like English contradancing around my eyesockets.

After an abbreviated breakfast and a session of one-handed bike maintenance (the other hand being occupied waving, thrashing, rubbing, and slapping in a futile attempt to keep the swarms at bay), I hopped on my bike and did a park tour.  I rode every possible permutation of park roads, stopping only to confirm the distressing news that the gnats were indeed everywhere.  It was only on the downhills at 30 mph that I managed to outrun them.

"Didn't he have insect repellant?" you might be saying to yourself.  YES, I HAD INSECT REPELLANT!  I started my morning with a 40% DEET mixture, advanced to 80% by noon, and was bathing myself in 100% DEET by 2 PM.  The only effect DEET appeared to have on the little shits was to raise the pitch of their little, tinny, scoffing, buzzes.

At 4 PM, the only options were to retreat to my tent or end it all with a tent stake.  I dragged my tent into the shade, climbed into the tent, zipped it quickly behind me, and laid back to experience the forgotten nirvana of a gnat-free world. 

But it was not to be.  The insect scourge from hell had accompanied me through the tent door and into the tent.  I contemplated screaming to drive them away, but couldn't recall if they had eardrums.  Could I ride circles at 30 mph around the park all night long?  What if I stayed in the shower until tomorrow morning? 

Just when I had decided to ride into the next town, book a hotel room and consult a therapist, I realized that upon entering the tent the gnats had abandoned me.  I took a deep breath, using my tongue to test the incoming air, and discovered that the air I was breathing was suddenly gnat free.  Apparently the pleasures of zipping about (and into) my head paled in comparison to the joy of climbing about on the tent roof.  Oh dear lord, thank you.

I have no idea what the buzzing blighters found so attractive up there at the top of the tent.  All I know is that viciously smashing their little bodies against the tent fabric gave me tremendous pleasure.  My intial tentative efforts showed that they were easy to smash.  At first I worked with one thumb, then both, then both hands.  Watching their little speck-like corpses pile up on the tent floor was glorious.  Every ten minutes or so, I swept those little black speck-like bodies into a pile and pinch by pinch deposited their remains outside the tent.  If anyone were to claim that I laughed while I did this, I wouldn't deny it. 

Yes, it was 700 degrees in my tent and the only thing I did for the rest of the evening was read my book and watch the sweat run in rivulets from knee to calf to foot to floor, but the enormous relief and peace I felt at being free from that buzzing, swirling plague made the evening a memorably pleasant one. 

Later, when I had to venture out in the evening, I had the great pleasure of repeating the smashing, sweeping, and disposing process. 

The gentleman works at a golf course in St. Louis.  He built his camper himself -- perhaps you can tell.  This camper replaces one that he purchased.

I was working on it, and it caught fire.  It just caught fire on its own and burnt right up!

I painted it gray so it wouldn't attract so much attention, and because I had some gray paint.

I also met a gentleman in the campground here who does "hot shot" deliveries.  He, his large and cheerful wife, and their pampered dog live in a delivery van that has a cargo area customized with heavy duty tie down points, a fold up bed, and fold down kitchen.  They get calls from a dispatcher to pick up some odd something -- they've carried helicopter parts,  cartons of special zoo food, and waxed skis -- and drive it to a distant place.  They net about 50 cents a mile, so -- he said -- they make $500 a day pretty routinely.  Very often they wait for calls in a Walmart parking lot, but campgrounds are better, if more expensive.

He likes this "hot shot" business better because "there are no logs or regulations.  You can drive as long as you want."

He and his wife have always travelled together, even when he drove a semi. 

We get along mostly real well.  Except when we're fighting.