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| Moonrise on the Pungo |
We spent a fitful night slapping at our ears and sweating
under the sheet. Killed dozens of
skeeters in the cabin, smearing our own blood on the bulkheads while consuming
much Benedryl in an effort to subdue the relentless itching.
It was a perfect sail in to the Pungo River, a nice easy
reach going a comfortable two knots and then wing-on-wing downwind into
Fortescue Creek. Then the skeeters
descended. Eric put on his
bug-proof shirt with hood and face screen and managed to single-handedly get
the anchor down while I slaughtered skeeters in the cabin.
We slept and woke several times, turning on the cabin lights
to try to kill the whiny little buggers.
At dawn I gave up and got dressed, killed a half dozen more while Eric
did the same in the V-berth.
Eric says as long as I’m on the water, I’m happy. He’s totally right. Even with the skeeter nightmare, it’s
worth it to be on the water.
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