Gregory Goes There

I wish.

But, if you can’t have a pack that instantly kills those pesky winged devils once they penetrate your personal space, then you might as well have a pack that’s ergonomically comfy and stays on your back when you’re swinging for the fences trying to escape from the torture of those worthless winged things. Since it covered my entire back, my Gregory Triconi 60 probably did save me from a few more dozen bites.

I should have known better though. Taking a four-day backpacking trip into Wyoming’s Wind River mountains in the beginning of July after a huge snow year is like going to your local blood drive - except you come away with 46 swelling bumps instead of feeling warm inside that you might have helped save someones life. The Winds in July equals Mosquitoville and my girlfriend, Genevieve, and I were held hostage.

Yes, our friends, sisters, brother-in-laws, crusty old retail gear shop guys and co-workers all told us the bugs were going to be bad. But really, how bad can it be, I thought? Bad enough that after every mosquito bite you got you wanted to name it after someone who told you not to go?

It was bad. Unbearable at times. And dousing yourself in DEET didn’t seem to do the trick. 

After about four miles the bite count was: Genevieve 25, Me 14. She was getting worked, while I cruised with my Triconi trying not to let all the buzzing around my ears bother me. At the six-mile mark (and our initial halfway point of the day’s objective) we both couldn’t take it anymore. Call us soft, but the packs were immediately dropped and the tent was set-up.

After drinking a bottle of wine and counting our bites - Genevieve 38, Me 28 - we decided that our ambitions of completing a three-night, 26-mile loop was going to be reduced to a one-night 12-mile roundtrip excursion. Sadly, and scornfully, defeated by winged things the size of your nose hair, we fished (while getting chomped) and drank all the booze that we had carried for our three night getaway. The good thing: the more we seemed to drink, the less the bugs seemed to bother us - well, at least me.

Along the trail home, I thought about cheeseburgers and how the trip would have been more of a bust if my pack wasn’t light and comfortable. I couldn’t imagine trying to deal with bugs in your face while having to deal with an uncomfortable pack.

Final total: Genevieve 46, Me 34.