This thread got me to remembering. When I was a kid prowling around in the woods, fields and ponds, I about got ate up by ticks and chiggers. And not just once, but all the time. I always was kinda slow I suppose. I looked like someone had patterned a load of number 9 shot on me all summer. It's a wonder those little monsters didn't kill me just from the blood loss. My mothers cure was (1) rubbing alcohol as I've mentioned earlier, and a couple of ga-lops (that's a trade term of mothers I believe) of Lysol in my bath water.
I don't know if it helped the chigger bites, but it sure gave me a distinct smell.
Today, I won't go near the woods until after the first frost.