I spent three summers in the Adirondacks before I figured out that slapping mosquitoes wasn’t actually a strategy.
The thing about camping is that you’re essentially volunteering to become a buffet for every insect within a half-mile radius, and honestly, most of us don’t prepare for that reality until we’re already covered in welts and regretting our life choices. DEET remains the gold standard—concentrations around 25-30% offer protection for roughly four to six hours, give or take, depending on how much you’re sweating and whether you applied it like sunscreen or like you were anointing yourself for battle. Picaridin products have gained traction in recent years, partly because they don’t melt plastic the way DEET does (I’ve ruined two watch bands this way), and they smell less like industrial solvent. Oil of lemon eucalyptus, which sounds charmingly natural until you realize it’s synthesized PMD, works decently for mosquitoes but less so for ticks, and here’s the thing—ticks are what actually terrify me more than the buzzing nuisances.
Permethrin-treated clothing changes the game entirely. You spray it on your gear, let it dry, and suddenly your tent vestibule and hiking pants become toxic landing pads for insects. The treatment lasts through maybe 40 washes, though I’ve never actually counted because who keeps track of that?
The Wearable Devices That Mostly Disappoint But Sometimes Don’t
Thermacell devices create a 15-foot zone of protection using allethrin, a synthetic version of a compound found in chrysanthemums, and I was skeptical until I used one at a lakeside campsite in Maine where the blackflies were so thick they looked like smoke. It worked—not perfectly, but enough that I could cook dinner without inhaling protein. The butane cartridges last about 12 hours, the repellent mats need replacing every four hours, and the whole setup feels vaguely like you’re operating a tiny chemical warfare unit, which I guess you are. Clip-on fan devices that disperse repellent exist too, though their effectiveness seems to depend entirely on wind conditions and whether Mercury is in retrograde.
Wait—maybe I’m being too harsh on the fans.
Bug nets for your head look ridiculous but work flawlessly, especially in the backcountry where mosquitoes and no-see-ums treat exposed skin like it’s recieve-only territory for their proboscis invasion. I’ve seen grown adults refuse to wear them out of vanity, then spend the evening doing an interpretive dance of misery. Mesh clothing exists too—long sleeves and pants with tight weaves that physically block insects—and while you’ll overheat in July, the trade-off beats the alternative when you’re hiking through swampy terrain where the bugs form actual clouds.
The Stuff That Smells Weird But Your Skin Will Tolerate
Natural repellents occupy this strange middle ground where they definately work for some people and fail spectacularly for others, probably depending on individual body chemistry and how attractive your CO2 signature is to insects. Citronella candles create ambiance but limited protection—you’d need to surround yourself with about 20 of them to approximate actual coverage. Essential oil blends with cedarwood, rosemary, and peppermint offer maybe 30-45 minutes of deterrence before you need to reapply, which is fine for sitting around a campfire but impractical for hiking. Some people swear by garlic supplements changing their scent profile enough to repel mosquitoes, and I’m not saying that’s pseudoscience, but I’m also not not saying it.
The Gear That Protects Your Sleep More Than Anything Else Possibly Could
Mesh tents with proper vestibules matter more than any topical repellent once the sun goes down. Double-check that rain fly gaps seal completely, because a single mosquito inside your tent will find your ear at exactly 2 AM—this is apparently a law of physics. Permethrin-treated sleeping bag liners exist for people camping in malaria zones or areas with high tick density, and while that seems excessive for a weekend trip to a state park, I understand the impulse. Bug-proof screen rooms for cooking and hanging out transform the camping experience from endurance test to actually pleasant, though they’re bulky and make you look like you’re glamping, which you sort of are at that point. Anyway, I’ve stopped caring about appearances after that blackfly incident.
