Memorable moments: The winged guerillas

They say if you think you’re too small to make a difference, try spending a night with a mosquito. Personally, I’m not a fan of blood-sucking creatures, and I’ve had two particularly memorable encounters that prove exactly how much of a "difference" a tiny insect can make to your dignity.

The first was in 2002, while I was working as a tour leader in the Middle East. We’d organized a punch party deep in the desert, and I—perhaps over-enthusiastically—consumed a heroic amount of the local brew. I eventually collapsed exactly where I stood and spent the night sleeping in the desert sand.

I woke up the next morning completely blind.

While I was unconscious, the local mosquito population had treated my face like an all-you-can-eat buffet. My eyes were literally swollen into tiny, indistinguishable slits. I looked like a different species entirely. It took days for the swelling to subside enough for me to actually see the world again, let alone lead a tour.

Fast forward to 2006, when I was backpacking through South America for six months. I’d hired a guide for a five-day trek deep into the Amazon jungle. This time, I was prepared. Despite the stifling humidity, I was a fortress of discipline: long trousers, long-sleeved shirts, and a thick, chemical layer of insect repellent.

After five days of perfect defense, we finally emerged at the Amazon River to wait for the boat back to town. Sweltering and triumphant, I decided to reward myself with a celebratory swim. I was only in the water for five minutes—exposed, free, and seeing absolutely no sign of mosquitoes.

What I hadn't accounted for were the sandflies.

They are almost too small to see, and they feasted on me in a silent, invisible frenzy. I didn't feel a thing until I climbed out of the water, and then, all at once, an insane, full-body itch set in. By then, it was too late. There was almost no part of my body that wasn't covered in bites. It took weeks for the welts to go down.

Between the desert "blindness" and the Amazonian itch, I've learned that nature has a very dark sense of humor. You can plan for the big predators, but it’s the ones you can’t see—or the ones that catch you after a heroic amount of punch—that really leave a mark.