Moving On Day 3-The Stinging Beach

After Kitty Hawk, the girls and I met J for our second night of camping.  He had picked out a gorgeous spot right on the beach of the Outer Banks.  He had picked up fresh local fish to grill.  We were excited!
But it did not go as planned.
J forgot the tent poles in my car, so camp was not set up when we got there.  He had been waiting for us outside. When we pulled up to this man- on the beach in lovely weather, sunset just beginning- you'd think we'd find a relaxed, happy sort of fellow, despite the lack of tent poles.  Right?
Uh, nope.  He did NOT look happy.  He looked....bumpy.
And he was.  Because it turns out that this particular beach had mosquitoes.  THOUSANDS of them.  They had to compete with biting sand flies for your flesh, but they seemed to be winning out, overall.  There were thick clouds of them.  They were everywhere.  They were hungry.
So were we, but there was no way we could let the babies be devoured while we cooked.  So I took them out to the water while J got those blasted tent poles out and made a refuge.  The water was just a quick walk across the dunes.  Just a hot, sweaty, mine-field of CACTUS, carrying two unhappy children while trudging through sand up and down hills and being EATEN ALIVE along the way, stroll to the water.
Once we got there, the ocean breeze blew away the clouds of biting bugs and Miss gasped and giggled in the salty wind.  Little One splashed into the surf in Her sun dress screaming "This is so much fun! This is so so FUN!"  She got soaked, I cooled my bites in the water, we watched the sky get pink.  It was the eye in the histamine hurricane. Then we headed back. 
This beach hates people.  It must. There were:

mosquitoes
biting sand flies
stinging nettles
cactus all over
Stickers and goat-head thorns

Our idyllic spot wasn't working out.
The kids were miserable; little cacti and stickers kept getting lodged in toes, and the welts on both girls were swollen and angry looking.
The dogs were miserable- their freshly-shaved coats did little to protect them, and they were rolling and scratching as they were covered in bites too. They ran away and came back limping, with cactus chunks in their paws.
We were miserable.  Because all our babies were miserable. 
It had been a hot, sticky day, so we decided to brave the "rustic" showers, even though the mosquitoes were worst there, with all the water pooling on the ground.
It was a special shower.  A wooden stall on a little hill, with a spigot at the top. You had to hold this metal bar above your head to keep the water on.  The cold water.  Which gave you one hand for washing and swatting mosquitoes.  There were no lights.  Which meant you had to do it more or less in the dark, which was just as well.  That way I didn't realize until I opened the door and the moonlight came in that I had been showering all cozy-like with an enormous spider.  TMI alert.  But please imagine- not in too much detail- but for your amusement, the idea of standing starkers in a wooden shack, in the dark, with one hand stuck above your head, soap in your eyes, hopping around like a complete loon because you are a a slicked-up smorgasbord for dozens of biting insects.  Hopping around in the icy water slapping yourself all over and laughing like a nut because seriously. Is this really happening.
Now.  Imagine jumping wet into your PJs and tearing down the hill holding your pants up with one hand and flying back to your campsite, followed by a cloud of demonic insects.  Imagine us all- dogs included because we couldn't leave them out in that mess- fleeing into the safety of the tent in the early darkness.
Whew.  Safe.
And then. Flicking on the lantern.  Looking up.  At the ceiling of the tent.  Black. Moving. 
Realizing that in the moments it took to open the door and go in, DOZENS of mosquitoes had swarmed in with us.  How cozy!  Forget bedbugs, people.  Can you imagine sleeping like a sitting target with dozens of mosquitoes in close quarters?  We'd be sucked dry by morning!
So now picture J and I.  Again, like total lunatics, hopping around.  With flapping, flailing arms.  Swatting at tiny black flying flecks in the shadowy lantern light until we had smashed every. last. one.   I'm telling you- many dozens and we squashed them one. by. one.  It was disgusting. Our babies and dogs watched us with awe, unsure whether to be impressed, amused, or concerned.
After the swatting frenzy J and I settled in, worn out, and finally went to sleep in the hot, thick air.
J pulled up the blanket. "This is sooo fun."