I'm typing this with one hand, as the left hand is occupied holding an ice pack to my left ankle.
Rocko and I went down to Camp Hope this evening for a hike in the woods down by the river. It was a beautiful day and the water is quite low, so I did a lot of rock-hopping. It was a good time.
As we reached about the halfway point, I told Rocko which trail we were taking and he headed that way. I hadn't gone too far when Rocko came running back. "No," I said, "Keep going." He turned around and headed down the trail again. A few steps later, my ankle started screaming in pain. It felt like a hornet, and indeed it was. I swatted it away (or so I thought), picked up my walking stick and water bottle that had been thrown when I was stung, and I quickly hobbled back to a place to sit.
Taking off my hiking boot, I saw a small hornet - about the size of a yellow jacket, but white and black - vigorously stinging the tongue of my boot. I knocked it off with a stick and stepped on it.
(A yellow jacket sting hurts like the devil for 15 minutes or so, then the pain eases gradually. This sonofabitch still hurts like the devil an hour later.)
Rocko and I took the short way back to the car from that point, but not until I sat down and waited for the pain to let up. When it didn't, I was thankful for my adjustable-length walking stick. I shortened it to a good length for leaning heavily on it, and slowly made my way back to the car. There are teenage campers there this year, and I had to literally bite my lip to avoid grunting and swearing every couple of steps.
Every once in a while, even now, the sting will suddenly throb once and make me curse or grunt. Like just now. Nggggghhh. Gah!
About Last Night
2 minutes ago