We pulled into the campsite

On a far northern lake

The turquoise blue waters

Of Martha Lake, Algoma

Shimmering around us

 

As expected our northern hosts

Were greedily awaiting our arrival

The blood thirsty mosquitoes

They are not called

The northern scourges for nothing

Blood is what they want

 

The first order of business

To set up the screen tent

This to be our place of peace

From the waiting mosquitoes

The mosquitoes are lining up

Waiting for their next victim

You

 

The next order of business

To erect the tent

With practiced precision

The tent is erected

The sleeping cots in place

Bedding is laid out

The bug coils are lit

To be placed in our shelters

 

I don my bug jacket

The barbeque and stove

Are now set up

The cooler of food

Locked in the vehicle

No need inviting unwanted guests

For an overnight feast

Namely the bloody bears

 

Peace and solitude reigns supreme

Not a soul in sight

It is nearing dust

The wind dying down

The lake becoming calm

The moon edging up

Casting a silvery path

On the lake surface

 

Darkness is at hand

Time to hit the sack

A small lantern hangs

From the tent ceiling

Revealing the mosquito hordes

Lined up on the tent screen

Crawling into my sleeping bag

The light now off

I lie there with eyes closed

Listen to the drone

Of the ever gathering swarm

I had the feeling

Of being the only victim

Within a hundred miles

I guess in the turn of things

We all have to survive

Thus I fell asleep

To the humming sound

Of the north woods mosquitoes

I must be a northerner