Noon-day sun burns bright upon a scorched Earth that cries for relief. A blessed breeze ruffles the treetops and carries the scent of toasting pine needles and dry dust. Brown leaves rustle as they flip over in the wind while rocks grind underfoot and roots stand their silent watch. Cool mountain stream pours from the ground to give sweet relief to sore and aching feet.

And then there are those blasted bugs. Little bugs, big bugs, bugs that bite, bugs that clearly haven't taken flying lessons, bugs that sting, bugs that hum in your ears, bugs that fly straight into your eye, and bugs that crawl into your food bag just to surprise you later on. We don't like bugs. Plus, I'm pretty sure none of them registered for a thru-hike.