Bee trouble at Magpie Creek

Friday night: we beached the boats at Magpie Creek on the left side of the river, mile 29.5. Our camp was a big beach, some 15 feet higher than the river. It felt good to release the Velcro straps of my sandals and to walk barefoot in the sand. I found a secluded spot where I sat on a log and made entries in my journal. My arms and upper body were sore from hours of rowing. Our cooks prepared spaghetti and garlic bread that was rib-sticking and tasty. Rattlesnake Creek wound its way up the canyon. I traced it for some distance, treated to the sounds of rushing water, the smells of plant life--ferns and other Alpine flora more typical of the Pacific NW.
Back at camp the bees were ferocious, mainly in the kitchen area. Hundreds were captured in our hanging bee traps, but ten times as many pestered us until we went to bed. Tents were mandatory tonight. We made a fire and roasted marshmallows. Some of us made Smores.
"The problem is all the people," my sister-in-law said. "It's a nice shady beach and big groups camp here every night in summer." Just a little bit of drink spilled or the tiniest bit of food dropped give the bees plenty of reasons to homestead.
"Too bad, because it's such a nice beach," she said.
I nodded.