Back Roads

Most of you reading probably know how this story ends, but I wanted to write from beginning to end, the things that one day can bring to your attention. It should have been full of wisdom, humor and new memories. Instead, it accounts for what seems to be a trend these days. A trend that I believe has run it's course by now.

PART ONE: In Which We Begin A Great Adventure


For a few months my brother has been hyping up a back roads backpacking trip. We were going to pack all we need in a couple of backpacks, a mutt named buck, a google earth printed map, and head out on the country roads of Virginia. It seemed like quite the undertaking, but overall I was into the idea of walking sixty-plus miles into a place nicknamed God's Thumbprint. The actual name is Burke's Garden. It is a cove that looks like an asteroid hit the earth right in the mountains. I've never been, but they say it's beautiful, and is supposed to be amazing this time of year.
On May 1, we loaded up into the station wagon and headed to our starting point of Meadowview, Virginia. The journey came at the right time for me I thought. Knowing that certain events were to take place on the first, it was going to be good for me to be away from what I am used to. I could be distracted by the road and the scenery and the great outdoors.
We walked about 100 feet and had to wait on a train while we could still see our ride watching us off. It was funny that we got stopped so early, so we turned around and waved until the train passed.
Once we were started, it was quiet and peaceful. There were hardly any cars that passed us and we felt like we had the road to ourselves. Passing farmland, grazing cattle and startled sheep was a great way to begin the hike. We had fresh legs and high hopes of meeting some real characters.


The road curves through these mountains like a snake crawling through the high grasses of a summer field. There seems to be no pattern but the pattern of random curves. The creek on the side of the road will hug the road until it finally decides to jut under the road and end up on the other side for a while. Every turn brings new trees and new blooms into view. your eyes don't get tired of one view before it's presented with a new even more pleasant sight. If you keep your head down while walking you're bound to miss a hawk taking flight, a roadside wildflower, or a baby groundhog jumping through the weeds.


By lunch time we figured we'd pass a small store where we could grab some grub. Hayter's Gap on the map looked like there might be a little hole-in-the-wall store for refreshment. There wasn't.
We hiked a bit further and needed a rest and food. We stopped on someone's old dirt driveway and took a break. It felt really nice to get that pack off even after just a few hours hiking. I could tell then that it was going to be a long day. Aaron opened up a can of soup while I decided to just feast on granola bars and fruit leather. I was saving the good eats for a nice dinner.

PART TWO: Feeling It & It Hurts


Just about the time I thought we'd never run into a small store and my feet were settling in, we turned a corner and there was this glorious sight. A little country store filled with nutritional goodness and energy giving editable delights. I could see myself buying every candy bar available and washing them down with disgusting tasting cola products.
Turns out, the store was closed for the day. We decided that we would take advantage of the seats and porch and take another break. we took off those packs and as we did, a women climbed out of her truck and asked us where we were headed. We told her and then she informed us that she owned the store and had to close to take her mom to the hospital that day. She must have seen the hungry look all over my body and opened the store for us. She apologized for the low stock and blamed it on a strike by General Dynamics employees.
We bought a few candy bars, drinks and a can of "Virginia Ham Taste" meat for Buck to eat. It wasn't real ham but was labeled to only taste like Virginia Ham. I appreciate the company's honesty.


The pain of 35 pounds carried on your back takes it tolls on your shoulders. That's the first thing I learn on this trip. It felt wonderful to take the pack off, and the total opposite when the pack goes back on. But you can't sit still and get to where you're headed and we took off again after a short break.

PART THREE: Time to Think, For Better or for Worse

"1,2,3..1,2,3...1,2,3..." is the waltz rhythm that is repeated in my head. It keeps me walking at a good enough pace to where I'm not hurting and I'm not walking so slow as to not make our check points. But over top of the waltz I hear the birds. I hear them before I see them, and as much as I do not want to see them, my eyes follow the sounds.
They're beautiful field birds, flying in and out of the grasses, landing on tree limbs and electric wires. To glance at them, you think you're seeing a common blackbird. Nothing special about that, until you see their wings. There's a bright patch of red with a yellow underline set on their wings. It's so bright against the black that it almost looks like a jewel pinned to their wings. Red Winged Blackbirds is a perfect, simple name for them.
Hearing and seeing them brings back memories of being a young fella with binoculars or a camera watching these birds and trying to capture the jeweled wings on film. I felt that young again as I watched them fly back and forth. More so than that memory, they make me think of more than just animals and birds. I think about someone, and I guess I always will when I see these birds. I think about what could be different and maybe what should be different. I think about how I'm hurting and when it will stop. Or if it will. I think about it all working out to my advantage in the future. As much as I shouldn't, I think about things working out exactly how I wish they would.
So, I return to my waltz rhythm, to drown out the birds and to keep myself walking.

I think of the meaningful conversations Aaron and I would have on the road. They weren't happening at the moment. We were both focused on walking. To talk was to use energy we could use on walking. To talk was to let air escape and increase the need to be constantly drinking water. So, the convos stayed in my head, to be shared when we could relax.

I think about how much longer we would walk until we found a place to set up camp. It was only about 4pm, but setting up camp was sounding better each minute. I knew my legs, back, feet, and soul would be glad when that tent was set up.

PART FOUR: Walk 'Til You Can't, Then Walk A Little More

Allison Gap was the destination for the first day. We had grand plans of finding a spot off the road, preferably by a small creek and a flat spot small enough for our tent. It was about mile 18 that we began thinking that we might not find that spot. We might just have to set up right off the road.
Right off, camping by the side of the road doesn't lead to the safest feeling you can have while sleeping. Drunk drivers, crazy country folk, or out of control dogs off leashes could be in your future when you chose this option. But when you're tired you begin to think that that stuff isn't such a big deal.

We were beginning to think that folks had been talking about us along the road. In these small communities, the same people travel back and forth and chat with neighbors. We passed one house with two old men on the porch who watched us walk by and asked where we were headed. We told them, and they both agreed they didn't think we were from around those parts. How us giving them a simple answer lead them to believe that we were foreigners is kind of weird. Aaron and I both thought it would be funny if maybe a passer by saw us and was talking to the two old men about two bearded weirdos and a dog were hiking on the road all morning. We craved that back road celebrity status whether we admitted it or not.
Hoping for a relieving answer, we asked the old timers what was around the corner. Maybe a restaurant or a convenient store or even better, a place to set up a tent. They told us about Fred's Trading Station at the bottom, and we got our hopes up for some good grub or a cold drink. By the time we got there, we were finished. The fun had been zapped from us for the day. Eighteen miles was plenty of road covered. We found the store and asked where a good place to set up might be. Of course, there wasn't a good place in this little bustling crossroads of Allison Gap. Small house were squished together beside churches with big parking lots. there was no place to hide out of sight for the night. I was discouraged and tired. The powerade drink gave me enough energy to hoist the backpack back on and trudge down the road in search of some land.


We walked about two to three miles before we decided that it was going to be necessary to knock on a door and ask permission to camp in a yard. we found a nice little house with what seemed to be a parking lot on the other side of the road. I went up to the door, and an old fellow answered. He could hardly hear me when I asked if we could bed down for the night, but agreed as I asked a second time in a much louder voice.
I was sick by the time we set everything down. I really just wanted to set the tent up and sleep. Maybe even throw up first. The tent got set up and I fell asleep for about twenty minutes. Waking up to dogs snooping around, it was time to try to get food in me.
The camping stove that was purchased days before proved to be an amazing purchase. I was eating tasty pasta within minutes and had no need to try to start a camp fire for cooking a meal.
Aaron and I spent the rest of the daylight hours discussing whether or not we'd be able to move in the morning. We sat on logs watching Buck being hassled by his new dog pals, getting up every few minutes to chase away a more persistent hound puppy. He was getting on Buck's nerves and began getting on ours as well. We sat on those logs, glad to be sitting in a place we had never seen. We sat on those logs listening to what sounded like gunfire down the road. We tried guessing the caliber of rifle as each shot ripped through the air. They were loud, but nothing extreme. Then as darkness fell, we heard the mother of all gun blasts. It sounded more like a canon than a gun. I think we even both glanced heavenly to see if it was a firework instead of a shot.

We climbed into the tent, us three, and called it a night.

PART FIVE: A New Morning and A Life Cut Short

Usually, sleep doesn't come easy on the ground and in a tent. I tend to toss and turn in my sleeping bag, and when I do feel like I've gone to sleep, the sun is up and the day has begun.
It wasn't the case this time around. I was so tired and sore that I slept very well in that small little tent. I woke up slightly when Aaron had to let buck out of the tent to do his business, and drifted right back as soon as Buck exited. The next time I woke up, Aaron was hollering for Buck out the window. Most of the time when Aaron hollers, Buck listens. I thought it weird that he had to keep calling him.
I was awake now and the sun had not even peeked over the mountains. Aaron told me he thought Buck might have been hit by a passing car. I was even more awake now. He said he was going out to check on him. I laid back down expecting Buck and Aaron to show back up. Instead, I heard Aaron confirm what he thought. I was wide awake now. I jumped out of the tent to see little Buck laying limp next to the road. He was breathing heavy, had a broken leg, and you could tell he was bleeding internally. Ol' buck was in pain. Aaron and I were getting there too.

Aaron watched him for a bit, as the property owner came out to see what was going on. We didn't know what to do. There wasn't a vet around for miles, we had no car, ad it seemed Buck might have been to far gone if there had been those options.

It began to hit me and hit me hard. Here I was, out trying to focus my mind and make good, new memories. Aaron, Buck and myself were out on the back roads, harming no one and nothing. Going about plans set in motion months ago. Now, we're repaid with this simple action by watching a faithful friend suffer his last breaths.
It began to hit me that my brother was going to have to say goodbye, all too hastily, to one of his best friends. This isn't how you let a pet go. You're supposed to have fun with him until he is old and you feel sorry for him. You baby him in his later years and he just sits beside you most of the day. when the day does come, you're sad but you're grateful for all those years. And he slips away at night and you bury him in the back yard and you put a little wooden cross or medium size rock over top of him. This wasn't going to happen today. This was going to end badly.
It began to hit me that I was going to have to put Buck out of his misery. I had never done anything like this before. I think closest I've come was flushing fish down a toilet and that's not even close. My fear of handling it all wrong or totally losing it as I squeezed the trigger replaced the current sadness I felt. I didn't want to do this to Aaron's dog. I didn't want to do this to ol' Buck.

Slowly, we dug a little grave by the creek and lowered Buck into the hole. Aaron said goodbye one last time and turned away. I said goodbye too, and within an instant the trip was over.


We packed up our tent and sore bodies, and headed back down to town. We'd finish the hiking trip another time we told each other. A time when we both were physically up to it. A time when we didn't have to hear a dog bark and get choked up. Or a time when I could watch a Red-Winged Blackbird fly by and not feel a thousand pounds on my heart.

The scary part is thinking that that time may never come.