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Answer:Cloud was drifting in from the east, i decided to move on. camp was still three kilometers down the hill. it has been eighteen years since i had first come to this vast untamed wilderness. still there was the lure of the place, the chance to live more and breathe. settled in ambler, a small village in the kobuk valley, i'd found life among the inupiat eskimos as rich and textured as the arctic landscape around us. however, even a bright summer day could mean trouble. as i slung my pack on my shoulders, a big arctic mosquito thudded against my cheek. there had been a few of them through the day, but it was early in the season the ice had melted just two weeks before and i'd scarcely noticed the mosquitoes. now as i wound down the ridge, the last breeze faded and they pelted against my face. i looked for the repellent in my pack, but in vain. i was flailing away, nailing five or six at a whack, but there were thousands mobbing me now. they were diving in nose-first, piercing me right through my clothes, dozens at a time. four hands wouldn't have been enough. years of alaskan experience had taught me what to do in a situation like this. i turned up my collar, clinched my pack straps tight and sprinted. when i saw my tent, i was still going strong, so were the mosquitoes. they trailed me in a whining veil. each time i slowed down, the attack resumed. pausing just long enough to unzip the screen door, i dived through to safety, it took me fifteen minutes to hunt down the hundred or so that entered the tent with me. after i'd cornered the last one, i took stock and tried to relax. my hands and neck were smeared with blood, and every centimeter of the exposed skin was punctured. outside, the insistent wail was nearly deafening mosquitoes settled over the tent, making a strange pattern on the nylon mesh. not until later that night, when the cold rain swept in and scattered the mob, did i stick my own itching nose outside again. local legend has it that an animal, or human being for that matter, caught in one of these mosquito attacks, can be sucked dry. blood thirsty though they are, the big arctic mosquitoes are frail creatures. these infamous 'alaska state bird', averaging a little over half a centimeter in length, can't even withstand a substantial breeze. they'd wither under bright sunlight. too hot or too cold, too much or too little rain, they run for cover. they spend most of their brief lives hiding under leaves, waiting for the right feeding conditions.
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