Backpacking. Again, it’s what I do. Like a junkie, I need my fix. I’ll be alright, just let me get a fix.

This weekend would be my last fix, till next spring.

But making it happen was proving difficult. The Uber-Bot, my most reliable hiking buddy, had said she would go this weekend. But had to back out due to a previous engagement, which she had forgotten about. Okay. No problem.

But I wasn’t going to let that stop me. Re-think. The trip to hike to the Delaware Water Gap, and in the process complete the AT in Pennsylvania, was out. But there are other options. The Tuscarora Trail for example. Not as well known as the AT, this 250-some-odd-mile trail running through Virginia, West Virginia, Maryland and Pennsylvania provides plenty of opportunities for hiking. There was a stretch that my Dad and I had been looking at for a potential trip.

I called him up and asked him if he was interested in an overnight trip. He was. I decided to make it a family affair. My boy is 13. Old enough to come along on a trip like this. Time to break him in. Why not.

Would you believe that they were calling for rain? Of course you would.

Saturday morning we drove over mountains, back roads and one streambed until we reached the place where we planned to end the hike. We left my truck there and headed for the beginning.

We started our hike at the Silar Country Store. I picked up two blaze orange vests for my son and I, we tied them on to our packs, on account of it was the first day of Black Powder Hunting Season. The Tuscarora Trail is not as established as the AT and this stretch of trail actually started out on a public road. VA 689, as a matter of fact. Rain was forecast for the afternoon, but at the moment the sky was clear and blue. We actually worked a good sweat walking along the road. After a mile or so, the trail made a left on to VA 671, which was a smaller gravel road. We made our way up a fair sized hill and then down again.

Finally we made it to the point where the trail left the roads completely. As we stood there, taking a small snack and water break, a service van driving by slowed to a stop. The lady in the passenger seat rolled down her window and said:

“Y’all be careful in the woods with all those hunters.”

We smiled at her and assured her that we’d be alert and it would be fine. And with that we headed up the trail, the path was well marked as we made our way up another fair sized hill. As we got close to the top, I could see the mountain we would be climbing in a mile or so. It looked pretty steep, and according to the map would be just over a thousand foot climb.

I looked back to see how far behind my companions were. I saw that they were about 100 feet behind and I turned to start walking again. It was at this point that I heard a sound that I imagine that I will remember for the rest of my life.

It was the sound of a small object whistling through the air, above my head and to the left. Although it was certainly moving very fast, time seemed to slow down for me. I heard the sound of it cutting through air, spinning as it went. I could not see it, but I knew where it was as I heard it cut through leaves and small twigs as it went by.

As time went back to its normal speed and I remembered to start breathing again, I looked down to my Dad and my son. They were looking back at me with expressions of shock on their faces. I turned and looked to see if I could see where the bullet had come from. I couldn’t tell.

“Oh SHIT!” I yelled. I yelled it extra loud so that hopefully whoever was shooting would stop.

After a moment or two passed and no more shots were fired, my hiking partners walked up to where I was.

“You heard that?
“Yeah.”
“Where did it come from?”
“Up there.”
“Over there?”
“No, had to be closer. Up there.” My dad pointed to clear area at the top of the hill, right where the trail was heading.
“What do you think?”
“I don’t know.”

We walked the 50 yards or so to the top of the hill. Carefully. As we got close to the top we heard the sound of a small engine receding from us. A four wheeler, most likely.

“Good, maybe he’s gone.”
“Probably. This area is posted. He probably heard us and drove off.”
“I didn’t see any deer.”
“I doubt he was shooting at one. You know. They come out here into the woods with a gun… they’re going to want to fire it.”
“Fucking idiot.” I shot a guilty look at my son as the words left my mouth.
“What should we do?”
“That’s the question. Was this a fluke, and now we have nothing to worry about? Or are we in danger?”
“One idiot doesn’t represent all hunters.”
“True. And we’ve hiked in hunting season before without any trouble.”
“Yeah… but that was the AT.”
“I say we go on.”
“Sure.”

We started walking again, but before we had taken a dozen steps we heard the report of a black powder rifle, and not far from us. The three of us hunched down, ready to hit the deck. We exchanged looks. Another shot fired.

That settled it. We dug out a cell phone and called for a ride. We backtracked down the trail and headed back up the gravel road, until we saw our ride coming up the road to meet us.

And the worst part of all, worse than some asshole shooting in my general direction, is that I didn’t get my fix. And in all likelihood, I won’t get it till some time in March.

This is not a good thing.