RR - Dodging Projectiles in West Virginia

[troutboy]

When most bikers think of the objective hazards of riding in West Virginia,
rocks, roots, wet terrain, and steep hills come to mind. However, my friend
Barbara and I encountered another of the West Virginia hazards on our recent
foray in the Elkins area. The state motto "Almost Heaven" came a bit too
close to being true.

But I should begin at the beginning. My friend Barbara is a caving
acquaintance from Washington, D.C. We met inadvertently when I was looking
for some trails to ride in DC during a business earlier this year. She was
the trail coordinator for some of the local trails. We had never met, but I
recognized her name immediately (cavers are a small, tightly knit group of
weirdos. Those of us who have been active cavers for any time know each
other by name, if not by face). We rode during that business trip and have
ridden and kept in contact since.

We arranged to meet at a well known caver's gathering near Elkins, WV (Old
Timer's Reunion) and ride some of the neat stuff near Davis and/or Spruce
Knob. And meet we did. On Friday my wife and I drove from Elkins to Davis
and did a short flat ride so she could become acquainted with her new toy.
That ride was uneventful, a little cruise along a Forest Service road that
parallels the Blackwater River. We then returned to Davis for some pizza and
beer while waiting for Barbara to show. I got the lowdown (not the down
low - which is very different) from the LBS on some single track right out
of town. We tooled around on that for a couple of hours, doing some loops
and dodging the rocks in the tall grass. The trail had seen some recent work
and was OK, but to be honest we have better stuff here in Delaware. I
suspect there is better stuff to be had in the area though.

On Saturday morning we looked at our options for another ride. Some of us
had a bit too much to drink the night before and we decided on a nice easy
nearby ride on mostly double track with some single track thrown in. After
some crazy maneuvers to extricate Barbara's truck from the massive confusion
that Old Timer's becomes by Friday night (it involved several large men,
most still drunk from the night before, picking up and relocating a car, the
owner of which was nowhere to be found), we headed out to Cheat Mountain for
our ride. The directions were unclear and we had a bit of trouble finding
the starting point, so we finally just parked the car and started riding.

The riding was pretty nice, an easy cruise on a gravel road along Shaver's
Fork. The road eventually turned away from the creek and we began a long
climb up the mountain (well, long by east-coast standards). I was really
enjoying the climb. One thing we don't have in Delaware is long climbs with
any semblance of elevation gain. We passed a couple of locals pulled into
makeshift camp sites with their pop up trailers and checkered tablecloths on
portable tables. Everyone seemed friendly enough (as almost all southern
folk are, especially when they hear what's left of my Kentucky accent) and
we exchanged hellos with them all.

Finally, I could see the top of the hill come into view. Barbara was about
100 yards behind me. This was good. The rest of the ride would be downhill
or flat and the hard work was done. Now we could just enjoy the bright
sunshine, perfect temps, and great views. As I crested the hill and just as
I passed a gravel road going uphill and coming in at a 45 degree angle to my
left I heard a crack. My first (albeit brief) thought was that Barbara had a
blowout (on her tire, that is). A second, similar sound followed almost
immediately, then a third. It was then I realized what the objects whizzing
past me and through the trees were, and they weren't swallows from San Juan
Capistrano. I took cover (or at least what cover there was) and waited. I
could tell from the sound I was dealing with a small caliber rifle, probably
a .22 or similar. High speed, but low weight projectiles, easily deflected
by even small branches. That was good because all I had near me were small
branches. After the first three shots, the shooting stopped. I could see a
man and what appeared to be at least two kids about 200 yards away and I
could hear the kids voices. Barbara was yelling for them to stop shooting,
but I'm not convinced they could hear her because there was a steep
embankment and a line of trees between them and her (I could barely hear her
and I had no barrier between her and I). I waited awhile to try and assess
what to do. I could hear the people reload, but this time they fired in a
different direction. I heard Barbara yell for me and thought either she or
the bike had been shot. I quickly rode back to her. She was OK and was just
yelling to see if I was OK.

As we were discussing or options (quickly) another couple of shots were
fired; one must have ricocheted off a tree or two because I heard the round
hit near where we stood. We were below the shooters with trees in between us
and them. So either they were just shooting randomly and this one accidently
came close or they had moved to the top of the embankment and were shooting
at us from there. We did not wait around to find out. We headed downhill as
fast as the terrain would allow (which was pretty fast). After a couple of
miles I stopped looking back, but I never really relaxed until we were back
in the truck and heading out.

I still don't know if they were really aiming at us, were just "playing
around" by shooting near us, or were just so stupid they would shoot
downhill toward a road. I'm guessing alcohol was involved, no matter what.
Perhaps it was the kids shooting and daddyo was too wasted to realize what
they were doing. If they were shooting at us, I'm glad they were not as good
a shot as I.

The next day Barbara headed back home, stopping at Spruce Knob for some more
adventure. I suppose I was adventured out. I spent the day wandering between
a sauna, hot tub, and the cold creek drinking pina coladas and listening to
my friends pick bluegrass.

I'm looking forward to some more biking in West Virginia, but I think next
time I'll stick to the safer rock- and log-strewn single track.

For Barbara's account of the festivities and a couple of pics, visit her
website:

http://www.deepcaves.net/OTR_2005/OTR_2005.html

[Phil, Squid-in-Training]

troutboy wrote:
> When most bikers think of the objective hazards of riding in West
> Virginia, rocks, roots, wet terrain, and steep hills come to mind.
> However, my friend Barbara and I encountered another of the West
> Virginia hazards on our recent foray in the Elkins area. The state
> motto "Almost Heaven" came a bit too close to being true.
>
> But I should begin at the beginning. My friend Barbara is a caving
> acquaintance from Washington, D.C. We met inadvertently when I was
> looking for some trails to ride in DC during a business earlier this
> year. She was the trail coordinator for some of the local trails. We
> had never met, but I recognized her name immediately (cavers are a
> small, tightly knit group of weirdos. Those of us who have been
> active cavers for any time know each other by name, if not by face).
> We rode during that business trip and have ridden and kept in contact
> since.
> We arranged to meet at a well known caver's gathering near Elkins, WV
> (Old Timer's Reunion) and ride some of the neat stuff near Davis
> and/or Spruce Knob. And meet we did. On Friday my wife and I drove
> from Elkins to Davis and did a short flat ride so she could become
> acquainted with her new toy. That ride was uneventful, a little
> cruise along a Forest Service road that parallels the Blackwater
> River. We then returned to Davis for some pizza and beer while
> waiting for Barbara to show. I got the lowdown (not the down low - which
> is very different) from the LBS on some single track
> right out of town. We tooled around on that for a couple of hours,
> doing some loops and dodging the rocks in the tall grass. The trail
> had seen some recent work and was OK, but to be honest we have better
> stuff here in Delaware. I suspect there is better stuff to be had in
> the area though.
> On Saturday morning we looked at our options for another ride. Some
> of us had a bit too much to drink the night before and we decided on
> a nice easy nearby ride on mostly double track with some single track
> thrown in. After some crazy maneuvers to extricate Barbara's truck
> from the massive confusion that Old Timer's becomes by Friday night
> (it involved several large men, most still drunk from the night
> before, picking up and relocating a car, the owner of which was
> nowhere to be found), we headed out to Cheat Mountain for our ride.
> The directions were unclear and we had a bit of trouble finding the
> starting point, so we finally just parked the car and started riding.
> The riding was pretty nice, an easy cruise on a gravel road along
> Shaver's Fork. The road eventually turned away from the creek and we
> began a long climb up the mountain (well, long by east-coast
> standards). I was really enjoying the climb. One thing we don't have
> in Delaware is long climbs with any semblance of elevation gain. We
> passed a couple of locals pulled into makeshift camp sites with their
> pop up trailers and checkered tablecloths on portable tables.
> Everyone seemed friendly enough (as almost all southern folk are,
> especially when they hear what's left of my Kentucky accent) and we
> exchanged hellos with them all.
> Finally, I could see the top of the hill come into view. Barbara was
> about 100 yards behind me. This was good. The rest of the ride would
> be downhill or flat and the hard work was done. Now we could just
> enjoy the bright sunshine, perfect temps, and great views. As I
> crested the hill and just as I passed a gravel road going uphill and
> coming in at a 45 degree angle to my left I heard a crack. My first
> (albeit brief) thought was that Barbara had a blowout (on her tire,
> that is). A second, similar sound followed almost immediately, then a
> third. It was then I realized what the objects whizzing past me and
> through the trees were, and they weren't swallows from San Juan
> Capistrano. I took cover (or at least what cover there was) and
> waited. I could tell from the sound I was dealing with a small
> caliber rifle, probably a .22 or similar. High speed, but low weight
> projectiles, easily deflected by even small branches. That was good
> because all I had near me were small branches. After the first three
> shots, the shooting stopped. I could see a man and what appeared to
> be at least two kids about 200 yards away and I could hear the kids
> voices. Barbara was yelling for them to stop shooting, but I'm not
> convinced they could hear her because there was a steep embankment
> and a line of trees between them and her (I could barely hear her and
> I had no barrier between her and I). I waited awhile to try and
> assess what to do. I could hear the people reload, but this time they
> fired in a different direction. I heard Barbara yell for me and
> thought either she or the bike had been shot. I quickly rode back to
> her. She was OK and was just yelling to see if I was OK.
> As we were discussing or options (quickly) another couple of shots
> were fired; one must have ricocheted off a tree or two because I
> heard the round hit near where we stood. We were below the shooters
> with trees in between us and them. So either they were just shooting
> randomly and this one accidently came close or they had moved to the
> top of the embankment and were shooting at us from there. We did not
> wait around to find out. We headed downhill as fast as the terrain
> would allow (which was pretty fast). After a couple of miles I
> stopped looking back, but I never really relaxed until we were back
> in the truck and heading out.
> I still don't know if they were really aiming at us, were just
> "playing around" by shooting near us, or were just so stupid they
> would shoot downhill toward a road. I'm guessing alcohol was
> involved, no matter what. Perhaps it was the kids shooting and daddyo
> was too wasted to realize what they were doing. If they were shooting
> at us, I'm glad they were not as good a shot as I.
>
> The next day Barbara headed back home, stopping at Spruce Knob for
> some more adventure. I suppose I was adventured out. I spent the day
> wandering between a sauna, hot tub, and the cold creek drinking pina
> coladas and listening to my friends pick bluegrass.
>
> I'm looking forward to some more biking in West Virginia, but I think
> next time I'll stick to the safer rock- and log-strewn single track.
>
> For Barbara's account of the festivities and a couple of pics, visit
> her website:
>
> http://www.deepcaves.net/OTR_2005/OTR_2005.html

Glad you're okay! You should have let the police know, that's for sure.

--
Phil, Squid-in-Training

[Shawn]

troutboy wrote:
> When most bikers think of the objective hazards of riding in West Virginia,
> rocks, roots, wet terrain, and steep hills come to mind. However, my friend
> Barbara and I encountered another of the West Virginia hazards on our recent
> foray in the Elkins area. The state motto "Almost Heaven" came a bit too
> close to being true.

Snip good rr
Why is "Dueling Banjos" running through my head?
Scary stuff. I've been turned back from a trail by the sound of nearby
gunfire, but none of it was in my direction!

Shawn

[Mark Hickey]

"troutboy" > wrote:

>I still don't know if they were really aiming at us, were just "playing
>around" by shooting near us, or were just so stupid they would shoot
>downhill toward a road. I'm guessing alcohol was involved, no matter what.

I once was doing some interval training (y'know - roadie stuff) in New
Jersey, on a road that had been effectively closed due to the bridge
being washed out. It was theoretically "open", just didn't go
anywhere, and it was a nice climb on both sides so we'd use it to work
on climbing.

My wife and I were chugging up it and I heard a shotgun blast off to
my left, and the pellets whistling through the trees above me. The
area is a preseve, but it was pretty obvious the shooters were
shooting skeet or something "non-breathing".

"HEY!!!" sez I in my loudest voice "There's a ROAD over here... knock
it off!!!".

The subsequent shots I heard seemed to be pointed away from the road,
so we just continued the grinding up and down the hill. I was just
about blown from the workout when I heard a louder blast, and heard
the pellets coming through the trees at MY height. I managed to turn
my head, but did get hit in the leg (didn't break the skin).

I'm utterly amazed at what I did next though - I sprinted up the hill
to where the pickup (gotta be a pickup) was parked, threw my bike down
and charged into the field. There were three BIG guys with two
shotguns, but I was so wound up I pretty much ordered them off the
planet. My lovely wife, in the meantime, broke into the glovebox of
the pickup truck so she could read off the registration the name of
the guy who was about to kill her hubby.

Fortunately they seemed to be contrite about the whole thing (or they
woulda been in big trouble... ;-) ), and they left immediately after I
got back on my bike and headed down the hill.

"That was probably the dumbest thing I ever did" were the first words
I said to Carol. I think she agreed.

Mark Hickey
Habanero Cycles
http://www.habcycles.com
Home of the $795 ti frame

[Ride-A-Lot]

Mark Hickey wrote:
> "troutboy" > wrote:
>
>
>>I still don't know if they were really aiming at us, were just "playing
>>around" by shooting near us, or were just so stupid they would shoot
>>downhill toward a road. I'm guessing alcohol was involved, no matter what.
>
>
> I once was doing some interval training (y'know - roadie stuff) in New
> Jersey, on a road that had been effectively closed due to the bridge
> being washed out. It was theoretically "open", just didn't go
> anywhere, and it was a nice climb on both sides so we'd use it to work
> on climbing.
>
> My wife and I were chugging up it and I heard a shotgun blast off to
> my left, and the pellets whistling through the trees above me. The
> area is a preseve, but it was pretty obvious the shooters were
> shooting skeet or something "non-breathing".
>
> "HEY!!!" sez I in my loudest voice "There's a ROAD over here... knock
> it off!!!".
>
> The subsequent shots I heard seemed to be pointed away from the road,
> so we just continued the grinding up and down the hill. I was just
> about blown from the workout when I heard a louder blast, and heard
> the pellets coming through the trees at MY height. I managed to turn
> my head, but did get hit in the leg (didn't break the skin).
>
> I'm utterly amazed at what I did next though - I sprinted up the hill
> to where the pickup (gotta be a pickup) was parked, threw my bike down
> and charged into the field. There were three BIG guys with two
> shotguns, but I was so wound up I pretty much ordered them off the
> planet. My lovely wife, in the meantime, broke into the glovebox of
> the pickup truck so she could read off the registration the name of
> the guy who was about to kill her hubby.
>
> Fortunately they seemed to be contrite about the whole thing (or they
> woulda been in big trouble... ;-) ), and they left immediately after I
> got back on my bike and headed down the hill.
>
> "That was probably the dumbest thing I ever did" were the first words
> I said to Carol. I think she agreed.
>
> Mark Hickey
> Habanero Cycles
> http://www.habcycles.com
> Home of the $795 ti frame

Had to be in the Pine Barrens or Helmetta. Both home of the white hood
wearing, no law fearing, dregs of New Jersey. I had quite a few run-ins
with them in Helmetta back in the early 80's.

--
o-o-o-o Ride-A-Lot o-o-o-o
www.schnauzers.ws

[gabrielle]

On Thu, 08 Sep 2005 16:42:54 -0400, troutboy wrote:

> We arranged to meet at a well known caver's gathering near Elkins, WV (Old
> Timer's Reunion) and ride some of the neat stuff near Davis and/or Spruce
> Knob.
OMG! OTR. I went to a couple of those back in the late 80s. *Nobody*
parties like cavers.

> As I crested the hill and just as
> I passed a gravel road going uphill and coming in at a 45 degree angle to my
> left I heard a crack. My first (albeit brief) thought was that Barbara had a
> blowout (on her tire, that is). A second, similar sound followed almost
> immediately, then a third. It was then I realized what the objects whizzing
> past me and through the trees were, and they weren't swallows from San Juan
> Capistrano.

Holy guacamole. Glad you didn't get hit.

gabrielle

[troutboy]

"Phil, Squid-in-Training" > wrote in
message news:233Ue.12002$Cc5.1243@lakeread06...
> Glad you're okay! You should have let the police know, that's for sure.
>
> --
> Phil, Squid-in-Training

She did. They blew her off (as I predicted they would), but she felt
obliged to try anyway.

T

[Mark Hickey]

Ride-A-Lot > wrote:

>Mark Hickey wrote:

>> I'm utterly amazed at what I did next though - I sprinted up the hill
>> to where the pickup (gotta be a pickup) was parked, threw my bike down
>> and charged into the field. There were three BIG guys with two
>> shotguns, but I was so wound up I pretty much ordered them off the
>> planet. My lovely wife, in the meantime, broke into the glovebox of
>> the pickup truck so she could read off the registration the name of
>> the guy who was about to kill her hubby.
>>
>> Fortunately they seemed to be contrite about the whole thing (or they
>> woulda been in big trouble... ;-) ), and they left immediately after I
>> got back on my bike and headed down the hill.
>>
>> "That was probably the dumbest thing I ever did" were the first words
>> I said to Carol. I think she agreed.
>
>Had to be in the Pine Barrens or Helmetta. Both home of the white hood
>wearing, no law fearing, dregs of New Jersey. I had quite a few run-ins
>with them in Helmetta back in the early 80's.

Actually it was in Wall Township (pretty upscale, midstate area). I
don't even think the guys could be classified as rednecks - more like
yuppie redneck wannabees. I know I had more issues with obnoxious
drivers in pickup trucks in NJ than I ever did in Florida, even though
most of my NJ riding was near "da shore".

Mark Hickey
Habanero Cycles
http://www.habcycles.com
Home of the $795 ti frame

[GeeDubb]

Mark Hickey wrote:
> "troutboy" > wrote:
>
>> I still don't know if they were really aiming at us, were just
>> "playing around" by shooting near us, or were just so stupid they
>> would shoot downhill toward a road. I'm guessing alcohol was
>> involved, no matter what.
>
> I once was doing some interval training (y'know - roadie stuff) in New
> Jersey, on a road that had been effectively closed due to the bridge
> being washed out. It was theoretically "open", just didn't go
> anywhere, and it was a nice climb on both sides so we'd use it to work
> on climbing.
>
> My wife and I were chugging up it and I heard a shotgun blast off to
> my left, and the pellets whistling through the trees above me. The
> area is a preseve, but it was pretty obvious the shooters were
> shooting skeet or something "non-breathing".
>
> "HEY!!!" sez I in my loudest voice "There's a ROAD over here... knock
> it off!!!".
>
> The subsequent shots I heard seemed to be pointed away from the road,
> so we just continued the grinding up and down the hill. I was just
> about blown from the workout when I heard a louder blast, and heard
> the pellets coming through the trees at MY height. I managed to turn
> my head, but did get hit in the leg (didn't break the skin).
>
> I'm utterly amazed at what I did next though - I sprinted up the hill
> to where the pickup (gotta be a pickup) was parked, threw my bike down
> and charged into the field. There were three BIG guys with two
> shotguns, but I was so wound up I pretty much ordered them off the
> planet. My lovely wife, in the meantime, broke into the glovebox of
> the pickup truck so she could read off the registration the name of
> the guy who was about to kill her hubby.
>
> Fortunately they seemed to be contrite about the whole thing (or they
> woulda been in big trouble... ;-) ), and they left immediately after I
> got back on my bike and headed down the hill.
>
> "That was probably the dumbest thing I ever did" were the first words
> I said to Carol. I think she agreed.
>
> Mark Hickey
> Habanero Cycles
> http://www.habcycles.com
> Home of the $795 ti frame

I did something nearly as dumb. Dove season in Arizona is one of the
scariest times of the year. A couple of friends and I were just getting
ready to ride on the North end of Phoenix/Glendale right next to the
Glendale Police shooting range and we started getting pelleted by bird shot.
Across the road were two guys behind a tree shooting across the road, toward
the shooting range building with us inbetween. First words out of my mouth
"hey you f**king dumb ass".......but they did stop shooting and packed up
and left.

Then there was the time we were climbing the road on the North side of Lake
Pleasant headed toward Crown King when some morons were shooting into the
canyon we were riding up. We could here the bullets whizzing through the
air seemingly right above our heads. We decided to turn around and exit,
stage left, even.

And the time I was riding on the North (something about North) side of the
Sneffels Range in Colorado and I came around the corner where a hunter was
standing. Oops, I forgot about deer season and I was in a nice yellow
jersey......which just happened to match the surround aspen. The guy had an
extra orange vest and I was happy to accept his offer so as not to be
mistaken for dinner. I told him I'd leave it at the medical center in
Ridgway but ended up running into him a few hours later on another road.

I'm sure there will be more incidents like these over the course of our
biking adventures.

Gary

[MattB]

troutboy wrote:
<snip>
>
> Finally, I could see the top of the hill come into view. Barbara was about
> 100 yards behind me. This was good. The rest of the ride would be downhill
> or flat and the hard work was done. Now we could just enjoy the bright
> sunshine, perfect temps, and great views. As I crested the hill and just as
> I passed a gravel road going uphill and coming in at a 45 degree angle to my
> left I heard a crack. My first (albeit brief) thought was that Barbara had a
> blowout (on her tire, that is). A second, similar sound followed almost
> immediately, then a third. It was then I realized what the objects whizzing
> past me and through the trees were, and they weren't swallows from San Juan
> Capistrano. I took cover (or at least what cover there was) and waited. I
> could tell from the sound I was dealing with a small caliber rifle, probably
> a .22 or similar. High speed, but low weight projectiles, easily deflected
> by even small branches. That was good because all I had near me were small
> branches. After the first three shots, the shooting stopped. I could see a
> man and what appeared to be at least two kids about 200 yards away and I
> could hear the kids voices. Barbara was yelling for them to stop shooting,
> but I'm not convinced they could hear her because there was a steep
> embankment and a line of trees between them and her (I could barely hear her
> and I had no barrier between her and I). I waited awhile to try and assess
> what to do. I could hear the people reload, but this time they fired in a
> different direction. I heard Barbara yell for me and thought either she or
> the bike had been shot. I quickly rode back to her. She was OK and was just
> yelling to see if I was OK.
>
> As we were discussing or options (quickly) another couple of shots were
> fired; one must have ricocheted off a tree or two because I heard the round
> hit near where we stood. We were below the shooters with trees in between us
> and them. So either they were just shooting randomly and this one accidently
> came close or they had moved to the top of the embankment and were shooting
> at us from there. We did not wait around to find out. We headed downhill as
> fast as the terrain would allow (which was pretty fast). After a couple of
> miles I stopped looking back, but I never really relaxed until we were back
> in the truck and heading out.
>
<snip>

Wow. That's scary. I had to dive for cover once here on my local trails.
They're only become popular with cyclists since the late 80's, and it
used to be a redneck haven before that.
My buddy and I were riding towards an intersection of several roads and
trails and we could hear shots from something big and ricochets whizzing
overhead (sounded close).
We started yelling when they paused and the shots stopped so we came out
from behind the hillside and there was a group of college-aged kids with
a couple of older redneck-looking dudes and an assortment of guns. I
said "Hey, there's a trail right behind that hillside you're shooting
at!" and this girl replies "No. The luge is over there." pointing the
other direction. She was right, but her little mind couldn't grasp the
concept of another trail she wasn't aware of. They half-heartedly agreed
to go somewhere else, but it was clear they were mostly just annoyed
that we spoiled their fun. It scared the crap out of my buddy and I.
Then, just last weekend I had to take an alternate route out of a ride
(missing some nice singletrack) because we could hear a shooter below
and the spot they usually use goes right across the trail.
We even have a shooting range here but a lot of folks prefer to shoot
old appliances or glass in the backcountry. It's my least favorite thing
about living here.

Matt

[GeeDubb]

MattB wrote:

> We even have a shooting range here but a lot of folks prefer to shoot
> old appliances or glass in the backcountry. It's my least favorite
> thing about living here.
>
> Matt

Not to mention road signs.........especially the ones marking deer
crossings!

Gary

[Nath]

"MattB" > wrote in message
...
> troutboy wrote:
> <snip>
>>
>> Finally, I could see the top of the hill come into view. Barbara was
>> about 100 yards behind me. This was good. The rest of the ride would be
>> downhill or flat and the hard work was done. Now we could just enjoy the
>> bright sunshine, perfect temps, and great views. As I crested the hill
>> and just as I passed a gravel road going uphill and coming in at a 45
>> degree angle to my left I heard a crack. My first (albeit brief) thought
>> was that Barbara had a blowout (on her tire, that is). A second, similar
>> sound followed almost immediately, then a third. It was then I realized
>> what the objects whizzing past me and through the trees were, and they
>> weren't swallows from San Juan Capistrano. I took cover (or at least what
>> cover there was) and waited. I could tell from the sound I was dealing
>> with a small caliber rifle, probably a .22 or similar. High speed, but
>> low weight projectiles, easily deflected by even small branches. That was
>> good because all I had near me were small branches. After the first three
>> shots, the shooting stopped. I could see a man and what appeared to be at
>> least two kids about 200 yards away and I could hear the kids voices.
>> Barbara was yelling for them to stop shooting, but I'm not convinced they
>> could hear her because there was a steep embankment and a line of trees
>> between them and her (I could barely hear her and I had no barrier
>> between her and I). I waited awhile to try and assess what to do. I could
>> hear the people reload, but this time they fired in a different
>> direction. I heard Barbara yell for me and thought either she or the bike
>> had been shot. I quickly rode back to her. She was OK and was just
>> yelling to see if I was OK.
>>
>> As we were discussing or options (quickly) another couple of shots were
>> fired; one must have ricocheted off a tree or two because I heard the
>> round hit near where we stood. We were below the shooters with trees in
>> between us and them. So either they were just shooting randomly and this
>> one accidently came close or they had moved to the top of the embankment
>> and were shooting at us from there. We did not wait around to find out.
>> We headed downhill as fast as the terrain would allow (which was pretty
>> fast). After a couple of miles I stopped looking back, but I never really
>> relaxed until we were back in the truck and heading out.
>>
> <snip>
>
> Wow. That's scary. I had to dive for cover once here on my local trails.
> They're only become popular with cyclists since the late 80's, and it used
> to be a redneck haven before that.
> My buddy and I were riding towards an intersection of several roads and
> trails and we could hear shots from something big and ricochets whizzing
> overhead (sounded close).
> We started yelling when they paused and the shots stopped so we came out
> from behind the hillside and there was a group of college-aged kids with a
> couple of older redneck-looking dudes and an assortment of guns. I said
> "Hey, there's a trail right behind that hillside you're shooting at!" and
> this girl replies "No. The luge is over there." pointing the other
> direction. She was right, but her little mind couldn't grasp the concept
> of another trail she wasn't aware of. They half-heartedly agreed to go
> somewhere else, but it was clear they were mostly just annoyed that we
> spoiled their fun. It scared the crap out of my buddy and I.
> Then, just last weekend I had to take an alternate route out of a ride
> (missing some nice singletrack) because we could hear a shooter below and
> the spot they usually use goes right across the trail.
> We even have a shooting range here but a lot of folks prefer to shoot old
> appliances or glass in the backcountry. It's my least favorite thing about
> living here.
>
> Matt
>

"Only In America" phrase pops up again.

If people are going to be doing target practice, it makes sense to only
practice in certain areas that are marked out (red flags and warning signs)
and so your direct line of shot will not carry onto other areas (embankment
behind target)

[MattB]

Nath wrote:
> "MattB" > wrote in message
> ...
>
>>troutboy wrote:
>><snip>
>>
>>>Finally, I could see the top of the hill come into view. Barbara was
>>>about 100 yards behind me. This was good. The rest of the ride would be
>>>downhill or flat and the hard work was done. Now we could just enjoy the
>>>bright sunshine, perfect temps, and great views. As I crested the hill
>>>and just as I passed a gravel road going uphill and coming in at a 45
>>>degree angle to my left I heard a crack. My first (albeit brief) thought
>>>was that Barbara had a blowout (on her tire, that is). A second, similar
>>>sound followed almost immediately, then a third. It was then I realized
>>>what the objects whizzing past me and through the trees were, and they
>>>weren't swallows from San Juan Capistrano. I took cover (or at least what
>>>cover there was) and waited. I could tell from the sound I was dealing
>>>with a small caliber rifle, probably a .22 or similar. High speed, but
>>>low weight projectiles, easily deflected by even small branches. That was
>>>good because all I had near me were small branches. After the first three
>>>shots, the shooting stopped. I could see a man and what appeared to be at
>>>least two kids about 200 yards away and I could hear the kids voices.
>>>Barbara was yelling for them to stop shooting, but I'm not convinced they
>>>could hear her because there was a steep embankment and a line of trees
>>>between them and her (I could barely hear her and I had no barrier
>>>between her and I). I waited awhile to try and assess what to do. I could
>>>hear the people reload, but this time they fired in a different
>>>direction. I heard Barbara yell for me and thought either she or the bike
>>>had been shot. I quickly rode back to her. She was OK and was just
>>>yelling to see if I was OK.
>>>
>>>As we were discussing or options (quickly) another couple of shots were
>>>fired; one must have ricocheted off a tree or two because I heard the
>>>round hit near where we stood. We were below the shooters with trees in
>>>between us and them. So either they were just shooting randomly and this
>>>one accidently came close or they had moved to the top of the embankment
>>>and were shooting at us from there. We did not wait around to find out.
>>>We headed downhill as fast as the terrain would allow (which was pretty
>>>fast). After a couple of miles I stopped looking back, but I never really
>>>relaxed until we were back in the truck and heading out.
>>>
>>
>><snip>
>>
>>Wow. That's scary. I had to dive for cover once here on my local trails.
>>They're only become popular with cyclists since the late 80's, and it used
>>to be a redneck haven before that.
>>My buddy and I were riding towards an intersection of several roads and
>>trails and we could hear shots from something big and ricochets whizzing
>>overhead (sounded close).
>>We started yelling when they paused and the shots stopped so we came out
>>from behind the hillside and there was a group of college-aged kids with a
>>couple of older redneck-looking dudes and an assortment of guns. I said
>>"Hey, there's a trail right behind that hillside you're shooting at!" and
>>this girl replies "No. The luge is over there." pointing the other
>>direction. She was right, but her little mind couldn't grasp the concept
>>of another trail she wasn't aware of. They half-heartedly agreed to go
>>somewhere else, but it was clear they were mostly just annoyed that we
>>spoiled their fun. It scared the crap out of my buddy and I.
>>Then, just last weekend I had to take an alternate route out of a ride
>>(missing some nice singletrack) because we could hear a shooter below and
>>the spot they usually use goes right across the trail.
>>We even have a shooting range here but a lot of folks prefer to shoot old
>>appliances or glass in the backcountry. It's my least favorite thing about
>>living here.
>>
>>Matt
>>
>
>
> "Only In America" phrase pops up again.
>
> If people are going to be doing target practice, it makes sense to only
> practice in certain areas that are marked out (red flags and warning signs)
> and so your direct line of shot will not carry onto other areas (embankment
> behind target)
>
>

Yes. Good advise, although I suspect our shooters may not read this forum.

[JD]

troutboy wrote:
> "Phil, Squid-in-Training" > wrote in
> message news:233Ue.12002$Cc5.1243@lakeread06...
> > Glad you're okay! You should have let the police know, that's for sure.
> >
> > --
> > Phil, Squid-in-Training
>
> She did. They blew her off (as I predicted they would), but she felt
> obliged to try anyway.
>
> T


I had an encounter with a WV cop once on a traffic stop and he was
quite the psycho. Actually everyone my friend and I encountered on
that trip from the area was kind of creepy. I'll never go back to WV
to recreate, that's for sure.

JD

[[email protected]]

Mark Hickey wrote:
> "troutboy" > wrote:
>
> >I still don't know if they were really aiming at us, were just "playing
> >around" by shooting near us, or were just so stupid they would shoot
> >downhill toward a road. I'm guessing alcohol was involved, no matter what.
>
> I once was doing some interval training (y'know - roadie stuff) in New
> Jersey, on a road that had been effectively closed due to the bridge
> being washed out. It was theoretically "open", just didn't go
> anywhere, and it was a nice climb on both sides so we'd use it to work
> on climbing.
>
> My wife and I were chugging up it and I heard a shotgun blast off to
> my left, and the pellets whistling through the trees above me. The
> area is a preseve, but it was pretty obvious the shooters were
> shooting skeet or something "non-breathing".
>
> "HEY!!!" sez I in my loudest voice "There's a ROAD over here... knock
> it off!!!".
>
> The subsequent shots I heard seemed to be pointed away from the road,
> so we just continued the grinding up and down the hill. I was just
> about blown from the workout when I heard a louder blast, and heard
> the pellets coming through the trees at MY height. I managed to turn
> my head, but did get hit in the leg (didn't break the skin).
>
> I'm utterly amazed at what I did next though - I sprinted up the hill
> to where the pickup (gotta be a pickup) was parked, threw my bike down
> and charged into the field. There were three BIG guys with two
> shotguns, but I was so wound up I pretty much ordered them off the
> planet. My lovely wife, in the meantime, broke into the glovebox of
> the pickup truck so she could read off the registration the name of
> the guy who was about to kill her hubby.
>
> Fortunately they seemed to be contrite about the whole thing (or they
> woulda been in big trouble... ;-) ), and they left immediately after I
> got back on my bike and headed down the hill.
>
> "That was probably the dumbest thing I ever did" were the first words
> I said to Carol. I think she agreed.
>
> Mark Hickey
> Habanero Cycles
> http://www.habcycles.com
> Home of the $795 ti frame

I went completely bezerk on some knife weilding jackhole who jumped out
of the passenger side of a minivan. One of my dumber deeds, but it felt
like an out-of-body experience.
It's not uncommon to hear some pops while I'm on the road, but they're
usually at a good distance. There's a skeet range at Ringwood that once
freaked out a friend and me pretty good. (...friend and I...?)
Your wife sounds like she can handle pressure!
/s

[GeeDubb]

wrote:
There's a skeet range at Ringwood that
> once freaked out a friend and me pretty good. (...friend and I...?)

me. you wouldn't say freaked I out or freaked out I

well, maybe you would!

:-)

Gary

[Paladin]

"Mark Hickey" > wrote in message
...
> "troutboy" > wrote:
>
>>I still don't know if they were really aiming at us, were just "playing
>>around" by shooting near us, or were just so stupid they would shoot
>>downhill toward a road. I'm guessing alcohol was involved, no matter what.
> >
> Fortunately they seemed to be contrite about the whole thing (or they
> woulda been in big trouble... ;-) ), and they left immediately after I
> got back on my bike and headed down the hill.
>
> "That was probably the dumbest thing I ever did" were the first words
> I said to Carol. I think she agreed.
>
> Mark Hickey
> Habanero Cycles
> http://www.habcycles.com
> Home of the $795 ti frame

Hey, I love your story, and I can relate to your reaction to being shot at,
and your wife's reaction, too. Glad you're ok.

CDB