Barry contemplates jumping off the bridge to certain death in order to end the unbearable mosquito blood-sucking fest, while Scott tries to talk him out of it. It has truly been a living hell since we descended into Tully Hole and the Cascade Valley- the mosquitos are everywhere and seem to be largely impervious to the otherwise trusty Jungle Juice DEET mosquito repellent. They are by far worse than on any other trip with only the Florence Lake trip approaching this, and they were only bad there in a few spots. We apply DEET about every 10 minutes, generally while still walking to minimize our vulnerability. Still, it is common to take a swat sight unseen at some part of the body after feeling a slight prick, and to come up with a red palm as the blood-gorged belly of one of the bitches explodes. Phil insists on calling them laquitas(unsure of the spelling), which I imagine is some mangled form of the spanish name for them.

Logic prevails and Scott and Barry gather on the far side of the bridge to survey the topo maps and plan out the next few miles. Curiously, the mosquitos have appeared to have taken a brief hiatus, allowing us devise our plan in comfort. The backdrop of broken granite here is very interesting and reminds me alternatively of a boot, a cruise ship, and a military tank.