So far, we haven’t really had to pull out the bug screens since leaving Virginia. Sure, we’ve had the occasional mosquito and been pretty happy with our mosquito coil solution, but mostly we’ve been on the move or anchored in bug-less spots.

The flies, since leaving Bridgeport, CT, have been atrocious. Both the common house flies and the smaller, more agile, biting flies. Between Charles Island and the Thimbles, a distance of 15 miles, we must have killed a hundred or more. And we’ve taken to leaving a fly swatter in the dinghy so we can whack as we explore.

They’re thickest in the early morning and later afternoon, seeming to prefer the dark stripe on the side of the hull or the tubes of the dinghy as a gathering spot. They land in inaccessible spots on lines or on corners and are adept at making themselves scarce when the swatter swooshes through the air. Between their preference of landing spots and their appreciation for ankle biting, it can be challenging to actually land a killing blow. But persevere. There’s some grim satisfaction in seeing those black bodies lying still and flat before you gingerly pluck them up and fling them into the water.

A fly swatter. Don’t leave home without one. Or maybe a dozen.