Dried Sweat and Butteryflies

I ran into this little guy on the Monarch Crest Trail back in July. He stopped by to have a taste of some dried sweat on my pack.

That map, in the picture above, was one of the best trail maps I've ever used except for one small problem. It Stunk! Bad!! It stunk so bad that I can still smell the funk in that pocket 3 months later. It was like the Seinfeld episode where the B.O. smell wouldn't leave Jerry's car. When we first looked at the map on top of a picnic table I thought that someone had urinated all over the table so we moved to another table, but it the smell didn't go away. As we left on our ride I felt like the smell was following me, almost as if it had come alive and jumped onto my back (where the map was stored). It took me about an hour of frantic paranoid sniffing to pin point the funk to the map. For the rest of the ride whenever we came to an intersection I would want to guess which way to go just so I didn't have to smell the map funk. This, like car doors and refrigerators, is one instance where having an extremely large nose just doesn't pay off.