Fifteen minutes later, you wish you would have gone back to get the bug cap. As you suspected, the flies don't mind the bug spray. In fact, their numbers seem to grow steadily and some of them even bite you. They seem to enjoy your sweat, and the feel of them crawling on your neck begins to drive you crazy. They're fairly easy to swat and kill, but their numbers never decrease. In addition, the occasional mosquito still hovers near your ear, making an incessant whine. When it's time to stop and dig your first soil pit, you soon give up. A sound escapes your mouth, something between a frustrated shout and a plea for help. Defeated and slightly embarrassed, you run through the forest, make it to the Nooksack River, collapse on the shady rocks, and hide under the cover of several layers of clothes.
When boredom finally gets the better of you, you rise and continue, forced to somehow get used to the bugs that won't leave you alone. For the first time, you notice that there are some interesting rocks along the riverbed. Do you:
or
Lay out in the sunshine on a big flat rock