Thursday, August 1, 2013

Backpacking -OR- That time there was an ant in my pants

Ahhhh nature. The trees. The lakes. The fresh mountain air. The ants.

The giant mountain ants.

The giant mountain ants who have no respect for personal space or privacy and decide to take up residence in my underwear, while I'm still wearing it.


It all started with an impromptu backpacking invitation from Sarah. It sounded fun. I said yes.

We packed our bags, got some food, and headed for the mountains.

The views on our hike to camp were spectacular. The kind of beauty that cameras can't capture.

We kept saying, "The higher we go, the better it gets." When we got to camp, it was pretty amazing. The gorgeous lake. The pristine waterfalls. The huge granite edifices.

We decided it was time for a snack, so we sat down and ate.

Then I felt a tickle on my back. The tickle moved into my shorts. I wiggled and slapped frantically, hoping to shake it out. 

Sarah now refers to this move as "The ant dance."

I was fairly certain the ant was gone, or dead.

Not long after, I had to go

It was then that I found the ant, still half alive, its half inch body squirming.

After that, I was careful to make sure that all future Ant Dance situations resulted in complete ant removal.

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