Date: 2004-06-05
To: Revenge is Painful
Miles today: 17.7

The rain had stopped when I woke up this morning. As Jeff prepared to depart, I lingered in my sleeping bag and chatted with him. At the same time, I waved about my damp underwear briefs in an effort to dry them. Last night before going to sleep, I had placed them in the sleeping bag in hopes that they would dry. After Jeff had departed, I got out of my sleeping bag and prepared to break camp. It was unpleasant to put on damp clothes. The worst part was placing around my bare feet those cold and soaked hiking socks from yesterday. I had a dry pair in reserve, but had no intention of putting them on; they would only get wet in a matter of minutes due to the soaked conditions on the trail.The rain did not return, but the conditions on the trail were awful. There were puddles and muck all over the place. Stream crossings were more of a challenge to due high water volume.I caught up to Jeff and we hiked together for much of the afternoon. He told me about his travels though Siberia. He was a good hiking companion. Later in the day, we parted ways at a shelter called 'Partnership.' He had to hitch a ride to a town and catch a bus for his trip home. The trail passed by the Mount Rogers Recreation Area Visitors Center where I stopped in to use the rest room. As I entered the building, the warmth of the heating system enveloped my body. It felt great. Back on the trail, I passed two brothers¢one in his late teens, the other around thirteen¢who were hiking southbound on a long section of the trail. They were accompanied by two Australian Kettle dogs carrying small backpacks. I stopped and spoke with the boys. The dogs immediately lay down and went to sleep; they were exhausted.My right foot was getting sore from the wet sock. I took off the sock and examined how grimy it had become with mud. I placed a dry sock on that foot.Further up the trail, I heard a vehicle pulling over at a dirt road crossing. I hiked closer and noticed a pickup truck with the word 'Jesus' inscribed twice across two of the back windows of the cab. A middle aged man, a teenage male, and a teenage female stepped out of the truck. The teenage boy was holding a rifle with a targeting scope. The scene intrigued me. Then a large black rottweiler dog bounded out of the truck; that concerned me. Fortunately, the dog did not seem interested in me. The girl and the dog jogged down the road about 125 yards and placed two plastic bottles on the left side of the road. In the meantime, I introduced myself to the man and boy, who was his son. They were getting ready to do some target shooting with the 30-30 rifle. When the girl returned with the dog, the boy prepared to fire his first shot. "Wait a second," I said. "I hear a car coming." From behind the woods, an old boat of a car rounded a curve just before the two bottles in the road. The car drove through the target area and approached the family with the rifle. I watched the occupants of the car, all six of them, as they drove by. They eyed the family, they eyed rifle, and they eyed the big black dog. On their faces appeared approving smiles. The boy prepared to fire again. "I think I hear another car," I told him.Sure enough, another car rounded the curve and cruised by the bottles. They drove by us and waved. The boy fired the rifle and missed the bottles. I looked at his father and said, "Can I take a shot?"He said okay, handed me the rifle, and told me to cock the hammer.I told them that my intended target was not the two bottles. Instead, I had my eye on a puddle of water that was situated one hundred yards down the road. The puddle glowed from the light of the sky above.In a symbolic way, the puddle represented all of the water borne misery I had experienced on this trip. By shooting the puddle, I would exact revenge for the thunderstorm that soaked me in the hammock. Shooting the puddle would be payment in kind for my soaked feet that resembled prunes. Shooting the puddle would be retribution for the days of hiking in drenched wet clothes. Shooting the puddle would be payback for the rash in my rear end. I stood sideways to the target and placed my left foot¢the wet one¢forward, then aimed the rifle and peered through the scope. It took me a few seconds to line up the focal length of the lens in the scope with the correct distance. With that task accomplished, I moved the scope around until it lined up on the puddle. I paused for a moment and then pulled the trigger. Boom! In an instant, two things happened.The first thing to happen was unexpected and excruciating pain. The rifle had recoiled with a force which I had not anticipated. The targeting scope had slammed into my forehead above my right eye. I don't recall for sure how I reacted to this, but my head was reeling. I placed my hand over my forehead and if I recall correctly, bent over in pain. At first, the man and body did not realize what had happened. When he saw me grimacing in pain, the man began to apologize for not informing me that he had placed a higher grain bullet into the rifle. The higher grain causes the rifle to buck with a greater force. I told him not to worry about it and thanked him for the opportunity.In that same instant, another thing had occurred. The puddle had erupted in a splash. I nailed it almost dead on, a tad to the left of center. I had exacted my revenge on Mother Nature, but the revenge was a painful one.The man told me that on other target shooting occasions at this location, hikers had shown up and walked by with anxiety written on their faces. He congratulated me for being the only one to hang out and ask for permission to fire the rifle.I said goodbye and headed up the side of a hill. During the ascent, I could hear the rifle firing. My forehead was sore and I rubbed it. I covered up my left eye and looked at trees with my right eye, hoping that my vision had not been damaged by the impact from the scope bashing against my forehead. The trees appeared in focus. Thank goodness. It was nearly dark when I reached the Chatfield Shelter. There were no hikers present, so I strung up my tarp inside the shelter.Thanks to the last couple days of hard hiking, tomorrow will hopefully be a day of easy hiking, resupply, and rest at a motel.