Piles of silver driftwood line the back of this beach -- more open to the sea than the others. On the way back I wish we could dawdle; I could spend a day exploring each of the chain of beaches, but we are now "on a mission" to get back to Full Moon before the blackflies come out to play. We experienced them last night, and that was quite enough. Blackflies are a particular curse of the Northwest. They are small and silent and you don't feel the initial bite; but a little while later, a powerfully, maddeningly itchy welt appears. It stays itchy for days. I've been bitten by various kinds of mosquitoes and fleas, plus a couple of spiders; and I've been exposed to poison oak; but I've never experienced an itch like blackfly bites. Therefore, with many a wistful glance aside and astern, we hasten over the series of ridges and back to the anchorage.
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