The Hennessy Hammock: A Must-Have for the Adventurous Literary Traveler

By Wes Newbury

The rain came down like lead pellets sprayed from an Uzi. I could hear the river raging just below the bank and the dull thump of our wooden raft against some fallen trees. The wind blew violently but my hammock did not pitch. It had been peaceful a few minutes ago. The only offense of nature was the onslaught of carnivorous insects. But the fine bug netting sewn over the top of my hammock had made them obsolete. I held my book light up to the net and watched as the hungry mass swarmed towards its glow.

When the rain came, the bloodthirsty insects left me to fend for mysel...

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