The mosquitoes attacked me by the thousands. The man who does not believe in bug spray finally met his match. The Siberian heat left me moist and sweaty, while my diet of pancakes, cherries, plums, dates and nuts left my blood sweeter than a grandmother at the first sight of her newborn grandchild. In other words, I was ripe and ready to be eaten raw, one bite at a time.

Thoughts ran wild in my head. How would my $20 Namibian-made piece of plastic ever protect me from the wrath of thousands of mosquitoes? My tent has been with me for six long years and experienced plenty of wear and tear from its days in South Korean mountain ranges and previous tour cycling expeditions. It serves as my primary source of shelter while being my loyal sidekick while on the road. However, due to its experiences, it has accumulated several holes and a broken front door zipper, which means there are many gaps in the protective lining, more than big enough for mosquitoes to enter and feast on me for the night.

The first task was to set up my tent. Even though the sun was still blazing hot at 9PM, winter hat and gloves included, I covered myself from head to toe with layers of clothing I anticipated using during frosty Mongolian evenings. Now they served as mosquito protection. I chose to let the sweat drip rather than allowing the mosquitoes turn me into a corpse of rotten flesh. The tent went up successfully and the door zipped halfway shut. One by one, the sneaky little pests found all of the gaps in my tent and continued to wreak havoc. I suddenly lost control of my emotions and swatted away furiously at my unwelcome guests.  “Die! Take that! I’ll show you who belongs here!” I shouted out loud as I swatted away like Jackie Chan in a one on one hundred battle. “If they see all of their friends dying one at a time they will get scared and leave me alone,” I reasoned. Unfortunately, my logic was greatly flawed and they continued to enter my sleeping quarters uninhibitedly.

I quickly realized this was a battle I simply could not win. Although minuscule in size, the pests outnumbered me by a factor of several billion. There was only one other option left- to let them enter freely and share my space with them. I would never make it to sleep if I continued karate chopping the small earthlings with reckless abandon. I calmed myself down and took refuge in my sleeping bag. While making sure to cover myself from head to toe with the sleeping bag, I closed my eyes and practiced several breathing techniques designed to slow down my heart rate. Normally, I fall asleep within minutes of this activity, but that evening I was much more wound up than usual. I slowed down my breath as much as possible and finally dozed off to the sounds of buzzing several centimeters distance from my ear lobe.

My eyes suddenly opened as the sunlight infiltrated my tent. “Morning! It is morning!” I screamed in delight. I survived the horror movie! It was five in the morning but I was anxious to get on the road. I was happy to have nature as my alarm clock. The mosquitoes had dissipated to a tolerable quantity and I hopped up on my feet faster than a cheetah who just spotted its prey. I covered myself from head to toe once again and packed up my bike at record speed.

It was 160 kilometers to the Altai mountains where rumor has it I would be able to sleep mosquito free. That day I cycled faster than “el chapo” Guzman fleeing from the CIA back to the Mexico border. I was simply too fast for the mosquitoes and left them in the dust. I set a new Russian cycling record of 160 kilometers on the day and made it to the pest free mountain range where the cool air enabled me to sleep like a college student the day after final exams finished.