One slight flaw with New Zealand

We had heard about sandflies before we got here.  They are insidious little bastards (pardon my French).  We first encountered them on the Milford Track as we shed our packs at the Clinton Hut.  They seem to favor wet locales like Fiordland on clear calm days.  They are big enough to see and easy enough to kill, but there is no shortage of them.  Walter asked the ranger at the Dumpling Hut if this was an average sandfly year.  He said every year seems about the same - give or take a few billion sandflies.

I would rate them as comparable to the Alaskan "no see um" and above your standard mosquito on the annoyance spectrum.  They seem to relish a little 100% DEET as an accompanying sauce to human flesh.  In the early part of the trip, Margaret and Walter were more delectable to them than Lucas and me.  That has changed.  My flesh has been confirmed as equally tasty.