The surprise visit
This is my story about a hunting adventure that nearly went sour. I am Luke Miles from Louisiana, US. I am in my mid teens and in my second year in college. I love outdoor activities, socializing and playing football. Whenever we break for holidays, these are the main activities which preoccupy most of my time.
However, the past holiday was one of its kinds. Preparation for its adventure started the very minute that my parents broke the news to me that they wanted me to spend the holiday at my uncle’s place in Utah. You can bet the excitement that I had when I heard that. It had been ages since I was lastly there and if I can lucidly recall, it must be sometimes when I was 8. Therefore the idea of visiting Utah and spending time with my cousins Kyle and Harold was the best that could have happened to me.
For long I had pressurized my parents to plan a visit to them with no much luck. I always felt unfair because my cousins had visited us several times since the last time we were at their place, yet we had never planned a visit to them since.
My parent had other commitments so they were never available to accompany me to Utah hence I went there alone. Utah is nothing compared to Louisiana. Everything there seems so natural unlike where I come from. When I arrived there, I knew that my holiday would be great. Among the activities that I was looking forward to was game hunting which my cousins usually talked much about.
Therefore, barely a day after my arrival, we set for the Wasatch Mountains of Utah. This was the place that my cousins insisted that would make me happy hunting the mountain goats of Utah. That afternoon shortly after lunch and while my aunt went out shopping; Kyle sneaked into his dad room and took his rifle and some ammo.
We then hide it in a travelling suit and off we drove to Wasatch Mountains. It wasn’t a long drive; it took us about 30 minutes. It would have taken us 15 minutes to get to the spot where we would pack before venturing the mountain but since we didn’t have any permit or license to hunt, we took the path where we knew would be save and we would hunt without the knowledge of the authority.
Once there, we found a good place to park and then ventured into the rugged and high peaks of the mountain. We didn’t talk much. All we were concerned with was finding our kill. I’d never used a rifle before but Harold had promised to help me learn.
The mountain was quiet dense but even after 2 hours of walking, no sign of any goat was within. All that surrounded us was the creaking of the trees and the flapping of birds. Enthusiastic about our hunt, we trudged on. Another 1 hour of walking, still nothing. By this time, I was getting impatient and suggested that we turn back. I knew the walk back would be long and I figured out that we needed to be home early to return the rifle.
Despite my concerns, my fears were overridden by Kyle who told me that my uncle would never notice that it was missing and even if we were late, he assume that we went out playing because it had been long since we were lastly together and there was a lot to catch up with.
We walked for some more 30 or so minutes and Kyle suggested that we were about to reach the best hunting sport. Harold decided to let me learn how to use the rifle before we reached the place because they wanted me to be the first to shoot.
Kyle went ahead to show me how to remove the safety and cock. Then he showed me how to aim and shoot a target. After his shot, he gave me the rifle so that I can make a try. I took the rifle; excited though nervous. I tried my first shot and the admitted that it was a good try. We had few bullets left; hence we decided to proceed with our adventure. They allowed me to carry the rifle with instructions that I should be ready to use it in case we spot any goat.
As we went on, Kyle on the lead, I followed and then Harold tailed. As we were walking up the mountain, I tripped and as I tried to use the rifle to help me from falling I accidentally place my finger on the trigger and a loud shot was heard. It was followed by a loud scream which came from Kyle who too fell on the ground.
I had mistaken shot Kyle on his left thigh. Harold was quick to jump at him as I got up. I was trembling in fear. We needed to rush him to the hospital but he couldn’t walk. Therefore we were burdened as we struggled to get him down the mountain while searching for a mobile signal so that we could make a call.
It took us about one hour of struggle before we found the signal and called his uncle who immediately notified the authorities and a search team was dispatched. By the time they found us, it was 10 in the evening. Kyle was taken to the hospital where he was treated. From there I spent almost the whole holiday indoors except from the few times that we went shopping or to the cinemas.