Thailand Notes Part 2: Chiang Mai to Mae Hong Son
Motorcycle fever had gripped me and made it easy for Natalie to talk me into the trip north to do a week long ride called The Mao Hong Son Loop. A very short version of this story found its way into Motocycle Mojo Magazine.
After much research, we rented our bikes from two different shops. Mine, from a larger shop that carried full size motorcycles with manual transmissions and the others rented scooters, Natalie and Willy rented “semi automatics” which were essentially clutch-less manuals. Courtney rented a true automatic. We agreed to pick up the bikes in the morning. That night we went to a very crowded street market, I felt very claustrophobic and was annoyed to see some of the items I bought at The Silk Factory in Bangkok were for sale for a fraction of what I paid. The food smelled delicious but I didn’t dare risk being sick the next morning. That night I also read up on common scams from rental agencies. The most predominant seemed to be trying to get you to pay for pre-existing damage.
When we got started the morning, I had brief moment of being everyone’s dad and somewhat forced everyone to get a full-face helmet. Thailand is littered with road-rashed tourists and I was hoping to not add to that demographic. All the rental shop helmets had some kind of damage on them ranging from scratches to full splits down the middle, which made for excellent visuals during my presentation. No one else seemed worried about that. We picked up the other’s bikes first, and Natalie was so uncomfortable, she asked me to drive the bike back to the hostel with her as a passenger. That was a nerve-wracking endeavor, she wore a helmet and I had a ballcap. It wasn’t rush hour, but there was definitely more traffic than I wanted to deal with. In my life, I have done some questionable things on motorized equipment, but that one made me the most nervous.
Once back at the hostel, I packed my bag, a 30L waterproof stuff sack, and picked up my bike. The only helmet they had that fit me, and had a visor in good enough shape to see through, had a big doobie on each side and “420” on the back. I found it funny but a little annoying. To avoid getting scammed, again, I took dozens of pictures of my rental bike and a video, when I left, the owner was well aware of every scratch. Once we all met up with our rides, we realized Courtney and I had the only bikes with phone mounts so I asked her to lead so I could bring up the rear. We were finally on the road at 3pm, which annoyed me greatly. Traffic out of the city was bad and Natalie was unfamiliar with bikes so her and I went slower than Will and Courtney. Somewhere deep in my memory, from an unknown source, was a belief that the most capable rider should bring up the rear. Sadly for our group, that was me, but I didn’t mind going slow and seeing the sights.
The only thing of note on the highway was a very large reclining buddha statue on the side of the road. A ways out of the city, we got separated enough that Natalie and I stopped at a run down shop for water and to contact the others ahead of us. Natalie ordered the fried chicken, looking at the state of the place, she will never have to prover her bravery to me. Though it did look crisp. We regrouped but the park we wanted to drive through was closed, we detoured to the town of Hot, the name felt appropriate given the absolute heat of northern Thailand. Courtney picked a hostel for us, and it was an absolute winner. It was little two bed cabins, with attached bathrooms and AC for 400 baht each. Will and I shared a room and I mused at the thought that I was paying $8 cad a night. We walked along the street and found a vendor selling noodles, this was my first Thai street food experience. It had, I believe, pork and fish balls in it (though I am not sure what part of the fish is the ball and I intentionally don’t think about what part of the pork that is), it was good and filling and cost 40 baht ($1.60). We went back to the hotel and sat chatting in the girls’ cabin, the power had gone out and we debated how to pass the time. Someone suggested cards. With nothing better to do, I walked to the corner store and purchased a deck, not realizing they were 375 baht ($15!). They are nice cards, heavy waterproof plastic and in a nice case, but that still pretty steep. By the time I got back, the power was back on and no one was interested in cards now that we had TV and internet. I went to bed thinking about how much nicer the roads in Thailand were than the roads in Nepal. I was also somewhat grumpy about the heat and our late start, I reminded myself that I am on vacation and shouldn’t worry so much about clocks.
We left Hot at the crack of noon. I was a bit frustrated to leave so late. From there we went on a very winding road and stopped at a temple but it wasn’t open to visitors. It was still interesting to drive up to it through the main gate and see the architecture. From there we went to Bo Kaio Pine Tree Garden. It was a nice forest walk, a smooth dirt track through well spaced conifers like we had driven through in Nepal. We also witnessed a bride and groom getting their photos taken. As we headed back to our bikes, it began to rain. We drove to a nearby restaurant and had dinner. It was chicken and rice on cheap plastic plates, and cups that didn’t look clean to me. I asked for the bathroom and got a lot of confusion and pointing and was eventually sent out back to an unlit outhouse with a squat toilet. The rain eased and we continued our trip.
Unfortunately, the rain came back even stronger, we were thoroughly soaked by the time we found a roadside shelter to stop at. After a long wait, it became clear the rain wasn’t stopping and it was now getting dark out. We packed our gear as best we could to avoid damage to electronics. I put my phone in a bag in my pocket and let the mapping app guide me via my headphones, Courtney did the same. Within a mile of leaving our shelter, we passed an overturned semi truck. We slowly snaked around it, it served as a reminder that this was real and dangerous, up to this point, in my mind, it was just uncomfortable. We continued on, driving as a team. Courtney was leading and would give hand signals showing when to pass slow traffic and when to turn. It felt so coordinated, high stakes, and the quiet concentration made it feel somewhat clandestine. It felt like we were a team sneaking into town. Looking back, it reminded me of being a boy and playing soldiers with the neighborhood kids. The rain slowed and stopped as we came into town. The residual heat in the pavement dried the water off in minutes. The steam filled the air like a fog. It was the closest I had been to cool since I had entered the country (both temperature and otherwise). We wove through back roads to find a hotel Courtney had picked before we left. Unfortunately, it was hard to find and when we did get there, it was full. She quickly picked another and headed toward it. We rounded a corner and suddenly I was driving on a main road lined with vertical lights, there were hundreds, all about 4 feet tall, like a vertical fluorescent bulb. They lit the road in an interesting effect and the steam from the rain made it look like a dream or maybe a rave. I could have driven back and forth for hours. We got to our new hotel, a white stone building, we parked along the street and went in to check availability. The place had no guests and the woman at the front had to call the owner to come in. He was excited and rented us dorm beds and told us to bring our bikes in off the street. As we backed our bikes from the curb and pulled into the court yard, Natalie dropped hers. I think it was just a result of the low speed and perhaps tired from the days riding. I lifted it back up for her. We parked in the courtyard out front and he closed gate to the street. We all had showers and gave our wet clothes for laundry. I spent the evening in a long sleeve shirt, underpants, and a towel around my waist. I guess only a single pair of jeans wasn’t a great strategy, but at least they got a wash. We sat outside and ordered food from the attached restaurant. We ate a variety, mostly fried, and drank sodas. We stayed up late eating, drinking, and telling stories and I went to sleep happy. This was the best slumber party I had ever been to and the days riding in the rain was a real team building exercise. Before this we were friendly, after this we were friends.
I woke up feeling terribly ill. Likely a result of supper the night before. After several trips to the washroom, I dosed myself with anti-diarrhea meds and hoped for the best. I bought toast with jam from the restaurant attached to the hostel, it was outright nasty. The bread was yellow and had a sour tang to it, it reminded me of bread I had in Colombia years before. To me, it tasted like it was made with rancid butter, but that cant possibly be accurate. Throwing the bread in the trash, I forced down a granola bar that had been rattling around in my bag and we headed to a café to get breakfast for the others. After a rather lengthy ordering and eating process we hit the winding road again.
The ride was really getting exciting, these curves are what the trip is known for and Thailand’s climate allows for road surfaces to stay nice. Natalie and I stopped for gas and found an odd self serve station. It was a small pump, inset on a wall on the side of the street. I put the nozzle into my tank, loaded my cash in like a vending machine and hit the green button. Immediately the gas started flowing and a little tune played. I was glad I had the nozzle in already, the handle did nothing to stop or start the flow, that could have been a disaster. I declined lunch that day as I still was not well. We rolled into the city of Mao Hong Son around 6pm and had no rain that day. We checked into a nice hotel with a pool in the courtyard. Courney and I went for a swim while Will and Natalie sat by the pool. Somehow a joke came up about Natalie and I doing the lift from Dirty Dancing. We never actually got to try it, until a year later in Guatemala. After the pool we went off in search of food. I was positively starving, and Thai food was getting the best of me. I requested that we go for western food, and somehow the few places that sold it were all closed. I was getting very down and outright frustrated, I was in that stage of hunger where I no longer felt hungry, and just felt grumpy. We eventually found a little restaurant and I had some kind of spicy rice-based dish. It was good but I could barely eat it. I went back to the hotel long before the others and relaxed. Truth be told, I was having fun overall, but in that moment I just wasn’t feeling it. Luckily we still had a few more days of riding to enjoy so I didn’t have to end on that note.
Posted in Motorcycle, Published Work, Travel and tagged adventure, backpacking, Mae Hong Son Loop, motorcycle, Thailand, travelwith 1 comment.
WARTIME WHEELGUN
Shooting a Webley MKIV
This is probably my favorite article to date, it was just a lot of fun to write, I had a friend help me make it all work and I have since started casting ammunition for this gun which is a fun way to spend a Saturday. It was also published in the March/April 2021 of the Canadian Firearms Journal. As a result of it being published I received an email from a retired Toronto police officer saying he had used one in the 70’s, I exchanged a few emails with him because he was simply an interesting man. Its also worth noting that currently, the Liberal party of Canada has used an OIC to “freeze” handgun transfers while they push through Bill C21 to make it permanent (as well as enacts the largest firearms ban in Canadian history) as a result, the only people in Canada who will get to enjoy these guns are the people who already own them. It makes me sad to think that no Canadian will ever again feel the sense of joy and accomplishment of getting one of these old guns to work again.
Like many gun owners, I have a lengthy mental list of firearms I would like to own someday. Of course, they must be available for the right price for me to actually make a purchase. One such firearm is a Webley revolver. I am not sure why I want one, maybe its because it’s a top break or because I have a soft spot for old military firearms. Either way, a friend of mine owned one and I was a touch envious, and having shot one, I knew I really wanted one of my own.
I have come close to buying one several times, even to the point of having one in the digital shopping cart and thinking, “I better wait, $300 is a lot right now.” Well, now that I’m a touch older, but still no wiser, I decided to try and track one down. Sadly, it looks like the price on them has nearly doubled since the first time I almost bought one. I asked around, and the few that I could find were well over $500 and often the tanker model with the bobbed hammer. I wanted cheap and I wanted the option of single or double-action.
Finally, one morning, earlier this year, the stars aligned. I woke up a little earlier than usual and was too lazy to get out of bed, so instead I went on my phone and casually perused some websites known for selling used guns. I do this whenever I am bored, just in case something from that mental list jumps up. In this case, Ellwood Epps had a Webley MK IV in 38/200 (aka 38 S&W). The price was about right, just a touch over $400. Once my wife woke up, before she was able to get some coffee into herself to gather her senses, I asked her if I could scoop it up. On her way to the coffee maker, she mumbled, “Yeah, sure, whatever.” It’s a classic Jedi mind trick, use it carefully.
While I waited for the government to rubber stamp the transfer, I did a bit of research and found out this gun, according to the serial number, was made in 1944 (via armsresearch.co.uk). As a result of being made for the war effort, mine is also stamped “WAR FINISH.” I am told this is there because the manufacturer was rushing production and didn’t want people thinking all their guns were that rough around the edges. I do have to say though, this specific one seems to have a nice finish compared to some of the images I have been able to find on Google. Mine only has some milling marks on smaller features and parts, while some photos show a rough finish on the sides of the frame itself. In my digital travels I also found that the revolver was originally designed to have a 200-grain bullet, hence its designation of 38/200.
Tracing the lineage of the MK IV in 38/200 is a wild ride. The MK numbers seem to have been somewhat reused on new models in new calibers and a lot of information online is contradictory, so I did my best to sift through. Webley & Scott began in 1790 making bullet moulds and has manufactured firearms since 1834 (webleyandscott.com). Their first top break model, the MK 1 in .455 Webley being adopted by the British and by extension the commonwealth armies in 1887. After several quick upgrades and modifications, they were at the MK VI still in .455 Webley. These were the service revolver for the Boer War and the First World War (wikipedia.org/wiki/Webley_Revolver). Shortly after the First World War it was determined that .455 Webley was too large for some soldiers to use effectively, after trials it was replaced with a small but heavy 200 grain .38 caliber, hence 38/200. It was found, in this weight, to have similar stopping power as the .455 Webley. Initially the contract to make the revolvers for this new cartridge was given to Enfield to make the No 2 Mark 1. However, it seems Enfield could not keep up with demand and Webley was given a contract to make their MK IV in 38/200. It was the standard sidearm for British and Commonwealth forces through the second world war and into the early 1960s (norfolktankmuseum.co.uk/webley-revolver/). Police in Singapore and Honk Kong used them up until the 1970s (wikipedia.org/wiki/Webley_Revolver). Currently, Webley & Scott only make their pistols in air gun versions. India Ordinance Factories still make several pistols based on the Webley design but in .32 caliber. Notably there is a 2 inch, 5 inch, and lightweight model (4.5” barrel and titanium frame) and I would absolutely love to get one of these (ofb.gov.in/civil-trade). The lightweight model, called the NIRBHEEK, retails for 105,000 rupees (or about $1825 cad) its just a shame its in .32 caliber so its prohibited here.
One unfortunate thing I found in my research was that 38 S&W ammunition is expensive. Nearly a dollar a round locally. When I purchased the Webley, I didn’t plan on reloading for it, but that plan changed immediately upon seeing the price of ammo. So, I ordered some brass and dies. They were easy enough to find, but a 200-grain bullet does not seem to exist for a .38 caliber revolver. It seems this has been a problem since the beginning for the 38/200. During the Second World War munitions for the revolvers had to come from the USA in the form of 38 S&W, complete with a 145-grain projectile which was found to be underpowered for battlefield usage (norfolktankmuseum.co.uk/webley-revolver/).
The old Webley finally came in the mail and it was time to make it go bang. The only projectiles I had handy were some 148 grain wadcutters that my 1873 cattleman revolver (357 Mag.) likes. The most useful information I could find was in my old Number 11 Speer Reloading Manual from 1988 (the year before I was born). None of my newer books or online resources had anything to contribute. I loaded some up with Bullseye powder and headed to the range. I was shocked by two things. First, how much smoke Bullseye produces, I had never used it before and actually stopped to check online that this was normal. Now that I know it’s normal, I find it kind of fun, like shooting black powder. The second shock was that my point of impact was about eight inches low of my point of aim at 10 yards. This worried me as my sights are not adjustable.
As for the rest of the gun, the trigger feels good in single-action, no creep and minimal over travel. In double-action it was a bit of a gong show, as the only way I could shoot it and hit paper was if I went very slowly, to the point that it was faster to shoot it as a single-action. Glad I didn’t buy the tanker model. The gun was also a lot snappier in the hand than I thought the small 38 S&W would be, likely owing to the pistol’s small stature.
I was now doing research on how to make a pistol shoot higher. It turns out, its very counter intuitive to a rifle guy like me. The trick is a heavier bullet, so that is goes slower and has more dwell time in the barrel as the recoil pushes the muzzle up. This makes sense since the gun was designed for a 200-grain bullet. I was now in an odd place; in that you cannot buy cast lead bullets in small quantities and I didn’t want to buy 500 of something that would give me the same problem. I asked around online about different bullet weights and received no useful help, which is normal for online questions. Typically, asking a question like that online turns into someone suggesting the problem is the person shooting the gun. Here’s a funny side story; I mentioned once I was having trouble with my CZ 550 in 375 H&H and someone suggested I was “probably limp-wristing it.” So, take the internet’s advice with a grain of salt. That said, my internet inquires were not a complete waste as a friend from 3-gun had spotted one and contacted me to let me know he was casting 158 grain bullets for his revolver and would happily give me some to try. I swung by his house hoping to grab ten and he gave me nearly fifty. I know Kurt is a good guy because we are relatively new acquaintances, and he was casting them in a single-cavity mould. He also showed me his powder coating setup.
I ran home and loaded those bullets up as fast as I could and hit the range the next day. The darn things worked perfectly! Offhand the groups were still not great (5 or 6 inches at 10 yards), but they were to point of aim. Using a rest, I was able to get about a 3inch group at 10 yards. Using a rest, however, proved to be an interesting lesson in harmonics, resting on the barrel caused the groups to migrate about 5 inches south of point of aim. This made me aware of two things. One, I need to work on my pistol shooting and two… I had to start casting and powder coating. I had already been batting around the idea of casting for other pistols and before this latest OIC nonsense I was casting for my cannon already, although casting a 13,000-grain (1.8lbs) slug for a cannon is a bit slower of an affair than a 158-grain pistol bullet. Luckily for me, my stepdad has been casting for years and has his local tire shop supplying him with lead, he also, more importantly, has the space and the melting pot. So now I have gone out and bought a two-cavity mould to make bullets and a used toaster oven for coating them.
Sadly, COVID-19 restrictions mean I cannot go out and start making bullets just yet, so I may have to crack and buy a box of loaded stuff off the shelf in the meantime… dang it.
In any case, the work and the fun will continue for some time. I’ve learned a bunch and my education isn’t over. If you like getting old gun shooting again, these vintage Webleys are great projects.
Posted in Marksmanship, Published Workwith 1 comment.
Spectre Ballistics 10/22 Adaptor
This was an article originally published in November/December issue of the Canadian Firearms Journal, distributed through The NFA. It can be downloaded and read here.
I had the opportunity to test the 10/22 Magazine Adapter from Spectre Ballistics, a local Alberta company that’s big on creative solutions. This handy device allows you to use Remington 597 magazines in a Ruger 10/22. Why does anyone want that? Simple, magazine capacity. Rugers, due to the existence of a rare pistol variant called the “10/22 Charger” can only have a 10 round magazine because the standard 10/22 magazine is now considered a pistol magazine. The Remington 597, on the other hand, only comes in rifle models and as such is not subject to magazine capacity laws. Under Canadian law, you can modify a firearm to take any magazine and the magazine is only subject to the laws of its original manufacture. This is why so many people with AR-15s, normally only allowed 5 rounds, would buy 10 round LAR (AR-15 pistol) magazines and use them in their rifles and be legal. However, it is important to note that it is illegal to modify a magazine to fit a rifle.
So, here’s the scoop. Install is a snap, take out your old magazine, put this in its place and you are done. No milling, drilling, or gunsmithing. This I liked. As for reliability, the only issues I could make happen were pushing the magazine forward while firing, it would prevent the action from going into battery completely, creating a light strike. I twisted, pushed, and pulled every which way with no other issues, even firing the rifle upside down (in a safe fashion) caused no troubles.
After some usage, the only flaw I can find is that Remington 597 magazines are not great. I had 2 of them shatter springs. Initially I thought the adapter was causing feed issues, but upon inspection, my magazines sounded like maracas. I took them apart and found that what should have been 1 long spring was 9 pieces in one magazine and 4 pieces in the other. A bit of research online shows that some people have had much better results with the 597 magazines if they do a break in process. The process is simple, only load it to 5 rounds a few times, then only 10 a few times, then 15 so on and so on.
One thing I was hesitant about, but really came around on, is the magazine release being on the left-hand side. I worried it would be awkward, it was not. It turns out I much prefer it over the original Ruger release. With the factory 10/22 magazine, and release, I found to remove the magazine I would maintain control of the rifle with my right hand and then use my left thumb to hit the release and catch the magazine in my palm as it fell. With this adaptor and longer magazine, I can maintain control of the rifle with my right hand, grab the magazine with my left, then use my left thumb to hit the release and pull the magazine out. This allows me to always have positive control of both the firearm and the magazine. In a rushed reload, like say, a shooting competition, you could have a fresh magazine in your left hand, hit the release with your left index finger, allow the magazine to free fall (it has enough weight and clearance to do so) and then insert the fresh magazine.
I think anyone who picks up one of these adaptors will be happy they did. After being lent one to test, I’ve decided to buy one. You can buy them direct from www.SpectreBallistics.com
Posted in Marksmanship, Published Workwith no comments yet.
A Cutthroat Hike
This is a story I had published in Hooked Magazine (Volume 14 Issue 1 of 2021). My original was about three times the length and they asked me to trim it down so it would fit in the magazine, I think they were correct in asking me to do that
“As I stripped line in, I saw a flash and cut through the water, I yelled to Erin ‘wait, I think I may have actually caught something here.’
Abraham Lakes
Amidst the chaos of Covid lockdowns, my wife and I decided, last minute, that we needed a break. Travel bans had caused our local national parks, Jasper and Banff, to fill. We opted instead to make use of some crown land and alpine lakes near Abraham Lake just southwest of Edmonton. This area, colloquially referred to as Abraham Lakes, was also quite busy but we figured the further we hiked in, the less crowded it would get.
Landslide Lake
We did our best to get organized and after a few pitstops my wife, my dog, and myself were at the trail head at 730pm. Luckily, we were on vacation and weren’t beholden to a clock. We hiked in until about 930, set up camp, and had dinner beside a small fire. In the morning we would hike the rest of the way to our destination, Landslide Lake.
On the second day, the trail was mostly treed with a few steep inclines, some bridges, and a few great vantage points with mountain views. Just before the lake, the trail skirted a huge boulder field, likely the lake’s namesake. The lake itself was a real beauty, larger than I expected. We set up camp, Erin relaxed with Jasper, our dog, and I assembled my fly rod. I was really dragging my heels for fear of failure. It had been years since I last fly-fished. I was in that terrible mindset of “If I don’t try, I can’t fail.” I think Erin could tell and spurred me along. I headed for a bay we spotted on the way in, it had a nice boulder sticking out that looked like a good place to fish from.
The Fishing
Unsure of what to use, I opted to try a dry fly that imitates a mosquito. I got up on my rock and surveyed. It appeared it was the right time and place, the fish were rising. I made a few shaky false casts and my line piled up in front of me, it was ugly. A few more casting attempts later and things were looking a little closer to a proper cast. Finally, I managed a proper presentation. I watched a small blue-green fish approach and inspect before biting and diving, I pulled up and set the hook. I kept the tension and brought the small fish in, I pulled the line up out of the water, the fish wiggled and wriggled… and was gone… with my hook. I guess my knot tying wasn’t up to snuff. Luckily my fly box, much like my fishing spot, was well stocked with mosquitos. I tied a fresh one on and went back to it. I quickly landed three more small cutthroat trout, my first ever.
Eventually one of my wild back-casts caught a small shrub behind me. I went and started untangling my hook from the branches. A minute into it, I broke out laughing as I realized I was untangling a Parachute Adams some other fisherman left behind. I got it, some line, and my own hook out of the tree, and resumed. We took a break to have dinner. Afterward, I went back alone but didn’t have any luck.
Lake of the Falls
Day 3 we headed to Lake of the Falls. The hike down from Landslide Lake wasn’t too bad, but the hike up to Lake of the Falls was an absolute slog. After what felt like a week of uphill, we were rewarded with a nice flat walk along an oxbow stream. As we got up to the lake itself, we passed a little bay, this one was shallow and clear, we could actually see fish in it, suspend motionless, with the occasional gentle rise and grab of a bug. We found a campsite along the shore that looked like a good fishing spot and staked our claim.
Personal Best
I assembled my fly rod and Erin went for a glacial swim, the water was so cold I could barely dip my feet in. I had other priorities anyway. No fish were rising, but I recalled one of my first fly fishing experiences an old man told me the bigger fish tend to eat bigger bugs sinking down. I tied on a woolly bugger and hoped. I cast a bit and had a few bites, but no fish wanted to commit. I asked Erin if she wanted to try, she had never fly fished before but she’s a quick learner. Within minutes she landed the first fish of the day. With a satisfied smile, she handed me the rod and said “try to catch up.” It didn’t take long, I managed to land a nice little trout or two. Then while fishing a drop-off, I connected again, this time with something bigger. As I stripped line in, I saw a flash and cut through the water, I yelled to Erin “wait, I think I may have actually caught something here.” A minute of angling later, I had landed a very respectable cutthroat, the largest trout I had ever caught. Keep in mind I’m pretty inexperienced. We got a few pictures and released it. Tragically, around dinnertime, my woolly bugger managed to get snagged on something underwater and broke off… I was tempted to go in after it, it was the only one I had packed. I opted instead to replace it with a bloodworm. I cast the line out a few times but only connected on one more fish.
Bull Trout
The next morning, while Erin made her coffee, I snuck ahead and wiggled my way through the trees, rod in hand, to the little bay we had seen the day before. My bloodworm and I, gave it the old college try. A few casts and fewer nibbles later, I had one on the line, a real scrapper. It appeared to be a brook trout, a personal best one too. I snapped a photo and sent it on its way. I didn’t bring my net so I was grabbing with wet hands and getting them back into the water as fast as possible. Unfortunately, in my haste, I made a mistake, it was actually a rare bull trout. Something Reddit pointed out to me. Had I the presence of mind, or the time, I could have easily checked the dorsal fin (a lack of black dots on its dorsal fin is an indication that it’s a bull trout).
Pack Out
Shortly after my catch, Erin arrived and we headed out, we had a long hike ahead of us. It turned out that that terrible uphill slog, although worth it for the fishing, is quite dangerous to go down with a dog tied to your pack. Jasper is a runner, so we keep him leashed. While descending a steep hill, he sometimes pulls, causing me to slide, which scares him, causing him to pull harder. Overall, though, he did very well. At the end of the hike, all three of us were hot, tired, and thirsty. Erin opted to cool off in Abraham Lake. I only got my feet wet, but I dipped Jasper in against his will. We stopped in Rocky Mountain House for pizza and Jasper slept like a log the entire drive home. The next day at work my feet hurt, but I was too busy showing off my fishing pictures to even think about that.
Posted in Fishing, Hiking, Published Workwith 2 comments.
Thoughts On Single Shots
This was originally published in the March/April 2020 Canadian Firearms Journal you can subscribe to the magazine by joining the NFA at www.NFA.ca
As I write this, the current Canadian government is promising gun control which would see a ban on semi-automatics. In light of this fact, let me state clearly, immediately, and without apology. I do not support ANY gun laws. I want to be clear, I fear, what you may have read, is that I don’t support tough gun laws. What I meant was, I do not support any. Licenses can be made nearly impossible to get and work as a restriction in themselves. I want people to be able to own full-auto, unregistered, and suppressed. All these anti-gun people want to do is sell you the idea that there are good guns like hunting rifles and bad guns like assault rifles… then all they have to do is slowly lower the bar until all guns are moved from good guns to bad guns. So DO NOT mistake this article for a “no one needs a semi-auto to hunt” article. If you fall for that flimsy argument it ends with “if you need a compound bow, you’re not a very good hunter”.
My love of the M14 aside, I have always had a strange love of single shots. In fact, my patriotic love of Cooey firearms recently led me to jump at the chance to pick up a model 84 for a wallet-draining $50. The previous owner had lost the front sight, so a quick comb through the old parts bin and a bit of filing and it was right as rain. The first three shots out of that gun resulted in 3 dusted clays floating to earth.
I love making old guns work again. This fascination likely started when I was young, about 12 I believe, and I restored my first rifle. A Cooey single shot bolt action .22. The barrel had to be sanded and re-blued, it still bears my fingerprint from touching it too soon. The stock was sanded, wet sanded, given a once over with steel wool, whetted to stand the fibers up, and hit again with steel wool. I’m not sure I’ve ever been prouder of a project. I spent a lot of my high school years pushing ammo through that gun.
Years later I treated myself to a Ruger 10/22 and sold it shortly after. I found I killed fewer gophers with it because my shooting fundamentals vanished into thin air when I knew I had a followup shot… at the time I had 25 followup shots, actually… but the gun control state changed that. I sold that rifle and went back to my Cooey, occasionally rotating in my bow, an old pump action .22, and most recently a .17hmr bolt action. They all work well but I still find the single-shot works best for me. Maybe it’s the nostalgia factor.
Next in life, I started to dabble in long-range shooting. I started with a $100 used Savage 110 in 300 win mag. I found a hand-load recipe that worked very well for it. I also treated it as a single shot so I could index the brass. Allow me to explain: I take a marker and make a black line up the side of the case right above the “3” in “300 win mag” on the headstamp. I then make sure all casings are resized and loaded on my press with that line facing the same way. When I load them into my gun the line is up. This way, if there is anything out of alignment on my press it will be consistently out of alignment in my ammunition. As a result, I have stretched this gun out to 1000 yards (walking it into the target), I am confident in my cold bore (first shot on target) out to 500 yards. I actually ended up taking my first mule deer with that Savage.
Gas guns and bolt guns, with magazines, can be amazingly accurate, of that fact, there is no denying. There is a reason PRS shooters use them. However, it is still worth a mention that for a budget gun, a single shot will do impressive things. A true single shot bolt action will also be more rigid in the receiver, and rigidity leads to repeatability and accuracy. This may explain why so many long-range and precision shooters, such as F class and benchrest, use them. Funny, and telling, story… My mother once used a custom .223 wssm built on a Gaulin single-shot action at a “poker rally” long-range shoot. She ended up with a full house and won a custom .260 Remington built by EM Precision. My mom’s a cool lady.
Most recently I found myself getting into waterfowl hunting. Some friends and I went out and I brought with me a beautiful Benelli Super Black Eagle semiautomatic shotgun. I had a great time, but sadly, I found I circled back onto my old gopher shooting problem. Perhaps some people, such as myself, just shouldn’t hunt with semiautomatics. The next trip out, mostly as a joke, I brought my old H&R single shot 10 gauge. I bought it cheap, used, many years ago for no reason other than the price, $60 if memory holds true. I actually ended up finding I had better luck per fly over with the single shot. All this season it is all I have been using. It feels very weird to leave a Benelli behind for an old break-action, but the heart wants what the heart wants. Despite my friends telling me “you can’t hunt with a single shot” I haven’t noticed myself lagging behind the group. Maybe I just need to work my way up to a semi-auto. So should I now buy myself a nice double-barrel shotgun or a nice pump action as the next step toward my recovery?
I spend a lot of time waxing poetic about cheap single shots, which, let us be honest, is my wheelhouse. However, I feel I would be remiss if I did not mention that there are some beautiful single shots in existence that I would be plenty happy to own. A few examples that come to mind, of guns that I have shot, are: the AR-50, a single shot, bolt action, 50 BMG, look it up, its as fun as it looks. Another is the Ruger No. 1 a high wall action well known for its ability to handle powerful cartridges. My step-father used one in 7mm Remington Magnum as his go-to hunting rifle for many years. A funny story comes to mind, about a pumpkin. It was late fall and some of my step-dads friends had come over to sight in a new 7mm one of them had purchased. Sufficiently satisfied with its grouping and placement on paper, they decided to try and shoot a medium-sized pumpkin at 200 yards. After 5 or so attempts that struck little more than dirt, Darrel, my step-dad, ran into the house. He returned with his No. 1 and one of his hand-loaded rounds, the only ammunition his guns see are hand-loads. A quick aim and a gentle squeeze later a medium-sized pumpkin was a big sized mess on the hill. That story more shows the importance of practice rather than the superiority of single shots, but I still felt like sharing. The last firearm of note is a Blazer K95, I simply do not have the vocabulary to explain the beauty of this gun. It is miniature in stature yet feels a natural size when shouldered, as though it were made for me. The attention to detail is staggering. The one I handled had the full-length wood stock, from bow to stern all of the grain of the wood pieces aligned. It’s the kind of gun I felt I needed white cotton gloves to handle, it shocks me that people would subject them to the abuse that hunting often demands… but maybe someday when I am rich I will understand.
So, perhaps it’s true, that I don’t need, or currently want, a semi-auto for hunting. But it will be a cold day in a well-known hot place before I tell someone they shouldn’t have one for hunting, or really any other reason. That reason, of course, being none of my, or anyone else’s business. My gun safe has a great many single shots, and they sit right alongside my semi-automatics, and hopefully, they always will.
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Grassroots Rimfire
This article was actually also published in the January/February 2021 issue of The Canadian Firearms Journal.
I recently had the pleasure of trying something new, to me. I was cordially invited to participate in a 50-meter prone shoot. To my understanding, we followed the rules set out by the Alberta Smallbore Rifle Association (www.absbrifle.ca) more or less. You’ll have to forgive any technical errors in this story as I am still unsure of all the rules and regulations surrounding the event. They were explained to me on a need to know basis, and I can’t help but feel some exceptions and allowances had been made to allow anyone to compete with whatever they brought. It was all for fun, so I feel no one was hurt, but professionals may take issue with it, understandably so. If you would like to correct me, there’s a comment section below, I am always happy to learn.
The shoot took place at the home of a family friend, Russ. Despite my owning several .22 LR rifles, none of them seemed up to the task of a marksmanship competition, neither did I, for that matter. At any rate, my Stepdad, Darrell, was also attending the event so he was kind enough to allow me to use his rifle and ammo. He also paid my match fee, bonus. The rifle we were sharing was a CZ that had been highly customized for long-range precision. This meant heavy with a high-power optic, he also affixed a support sling and lent me a glove. I was informed that this put us into the “hunting rifle” category, while most other people were using iron sights and were shooting sans-sling putting them in “sporting.” I was told the basic rules, we had 30 minutes to shoot a total of 20 rounds at four targets. We were allowed to take as many “sighter” shots as we needed at the appropriate targets (placed near the top of our target paper). The shooting had to be unsupported, meaning no bipods or sandbags. At this point I could feel myself starting to panic, my only goal at this point was to avoid embarrassment…
Lucky for me, there were nine of us and only three could shoot at a time, so I got to see some other shooters go first. It looked simple enough, but 50 meters can sure seem far away some days. When it was finally my turn, it was well… ugly. The days light rain had turned to heavy rain, luckily the shooting line was sheltered. I struggled to understand how to best utilize the sling. Also, in my fury of discomfort holding a 10 plus lb rifle I shot my neighbor’s target. Wayne, the fellow next door, was using a beautiful Marlin 39a with a Skinner peep sight. We both agreed on which hole in his target was mine, it was the one that looked like a flier. After that first volley, I was in second-last place in my division and things weren’t looking up.
We took a break and had some amazing chilli for lunch. We ate inside Russ’s garage, which, was more of a comfortable workshop complete with a wood stove. While we ate, we noticed the rain had turned to huge snowflakes. February in Alberta, you never know what the day will hold. The first group went out to shoot again in that heavy snow. Then just as they finished and Darrell got comfortable on the line, the snow stopped, a lucky break for us. His volley went well but, somehow, he only put 19 rounds on paper, none of use could figure out where the 20th went. Best guess was he loaded one of his 4 magazines with only 4 rounds. After him it was my turn. I learned from my first round that 30 minutes is a long time. I took some real time to get comfortable and find a way to make the sling work for me. In the previous volley I had really used a lot of my bicep to hold the gun up. This time I slid the sling farther up my arm, above my elbow and put my hand behind the sling swivel. This allowed me to relax my arm and get some serious stability. I also dropped the optic down from 20x to 12x just to reduce the shaking. This volley went substantially better and I felt quite good about it.
After that volley we decided there was enough daylight for a 3rd volley. Everyone’s targets had seemed to improve as the day progressed, but I felt I really improved by my 3rd time around. By the time the dust settled, Russ had beaten me by a mile, but I still took first in my division, of only 4 people… and it was a tight race. Had it not been for the 3rd round that simply would not have been the case. There were no awards or prizes for winning since it was such a small event put on for fun. However, Russ, to keep it exciting, took our match fees and took half to pay for targets and lunch and raffled the other half off in a 50/50 style draw. Wouldn’t you know it? I won that too. If you recall earlier in this story, someone else paid my match fee, I used a borrowed gun and borrowed ammo… I was up $90 after a day of free shooting. Hard to beat that deal. I consider that money earmarked for a proper match rifle. Hopefully, I’ll get invited back next time.
My final, and best, target is now hung up on the wall of my gun room. I like it there, as a reminder that these grassroots fun shoots still exist. Seems these days everyone wants a social media bonanza with sponsors and prize tables. I worry that sometimes I lose sight of the point of shooting competitions: to be a better shooter than I was before and make some friends along the way.
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Money, Time and Blood: Life of a 3-gunner
This was originally published in the Canadian Firearms Journal July/August 2019 edition. This was intended as a humour article, I hope you like it. I had a shortage of appropriate photos for this story, the drawings of me were created by the owner of https://www.canadiancutthroat.ca/ I highly recommend going and having a look at his website.
Getting into the sport of 3-gun can be daunting. There are a lot of rules, a lot of gear, and you preform in front of a group. However, do not be dissuaded. The rules are pretty intuitive once you get into it, they’re all safety and common sense oriented. Don’t sweat embarrassing yourself, everyone eventually does and they all seem to have a pretty good attitude about it. As for all the gear… it only costs a small fortune.
If you are thinking of getting into 3-gun, or any other shooting sport, you should start by asking yourself these few questions:
Do I have too much money?
Do I have too much free time?
Do I see my family too often?
If you said yes to at least two of these, 3-gun may be right for you. The simplest way to get into it, is to go to a match. Contacting the league beforehand is a good idea too. Sounds simple, but social media is littered with people who are stockpiling and perfecting their gear to be all set to someday go to a match. Show up with what you’ve got, if anything, and some boxes of ammo (9mm, .223, and 12 gauge). I guarantee someone with lend you gear. My first match was quite the swap meet. I was borrowing holsters, guns, mags, and belts from five different people, but they cobbled something together for me. Be prepared to lose that first match. Go slow and try not to get disqualified for a safety violation.
Immediately after that first match, while you’re still flying high from all the fun. Go home and research some entry level guns and gear and write up a budget. Show that to your spouse and get approval… now when they look away, add a zero to the end. You won’t spend that now, but you will. Allow me to explain.
You’ll probably start with a basic AR, like a Norinco or M&P, a basic 9mm like a Glock or M&P9; and just whatever shotgun you have… and, of course, you’ll need a bunch of magazines, I like to carry 40 rounds for both my rifle and pistol. Next, it’ll be a belt, a holster, magazine pouches, and a few shotgun shell caddies. You’ll see the cost of the caddies and nearly cry… Before you ask, no there are no cheap caddies and they almost never show up for sale second hand. This will land you in your original budget, get your foot in the door and get you doing matches in the limited division. You’ll likely run a season or two this way. Then you’ll need an optic, and those don’t grow on trees and of course, you will want a good one, a cheap one might lose zero with all those barrel dumps. If you want to stay in limited you go with a red dot; if you want an actual scope, that will put you into Tac-Ops. If you’re getting that into it, you may as well upgrade that old pump action shotgun of yours to a semi, but due to Canadian law and weird capacity loopholes, you need one that takes 3.5″ shells, but will reliably cycle 2.75” target loads. Its also around this time that some folks, such as myself, begin to try to do their own gunsmithing. You take a Dremel to your new shotgun to open the port and a soldering iron to it for stippling. The there’s the rattle can paint job so your gun stands out a little on the rack. Just a heads up, if you don’t paint it a masculine colour, some people will act personally offended… guess how I know that.
After a season or so the cost of ammunition will start to get to you, so now its time to get into reloading. Since volume is the name of the game, you can hunch over your old single stage endlessly or you get a progressive press, and a good one, since a squib or double charge could be dangerous. Buy once cry once right? Congratulations, your reloading setup now cost almost as much as your original 3-gun budget. That’s ok, it’ll save you money on ammo, have to think long term here.
All ammo costs you now are components, your evenings, and usually a dedicated room in your house. At least you can now store all your other gear in that room, too.
This fancy hand loaded ammo combined with your optic will really show you how limiting your AR is, better upgrade that barrel and that trigger. While you’re at it, keep your eyes peeled for a sale on a handguard, you’ll probably try two or three with various types of vertical and angled grips. In the end though, that super expensive ultralight one will probably be the answer.
Another great way to save money is to start volunteering for the league, that often gives you free entry to the matches. You now also get to design stages, help more with setup, and RO… but that’s just an extra few hours a month, right?
A common route guys go to get free gear is to get some form of sponsorship. Of course, to do that you will need to get good, which means practice. Good thing you have that fancy reloading gear. It’s also a good idea to do a lot of dry fire practice every day. This isn’t to make you a better shooter, this is just to post to Instagram to help you get followers.
Since companies that sponsor you want you to use as much of their gear as possible, you may as well go to open class so you can put an optic or two on everything. At which point you will need to go to a magazine fed shotgun and a custom tuned “race pistol”, to stay competitive. Once you’ve started spending all your time posting to social media and spent all your money on gear, you just might get a sponsorship deal, which might help you get a discount on gear, which is now redundant. But now you can brag that you are sponsored. You’ve even got that fancy jersey (that you bought) to prove it! As a sponsored shooter, you’ll be expected to attend as many matches as possible, which means no going to your in-law’s family reunion “Sorry honey, can’t miss The Battle of Alberta.”
All along the way, you will be doing this so you can spend 14-hour days getting sunburn, windburn, frostbite, or just downright soaked in the rain. Oh, and don’t forget the sprains, the cuts on your hands and knees, and the occasional bit of lead ricochet. I once caught a small piece of lead in my hand while filming another shooter. My doctor had to dig it out with a scalpel. Before that day, I had never seen a medical profession giggle. It was clearly the highlight of his week.
But on the plus side, you get to go fast and shoot a lot… for about four minutes, total, per day. It’s kind of like golf, the better you are at it, the less of it you do in a competition. If you are looking for something less damaging to the body, the wallet, and your family, I would suggest either gambling or the rodeo circuit.
For me though, if I am going down in a blaze of financial ruin, it’s with an AR in my hands and hot brass falling down the back of my shirt. If you want to join me, www.3gun.ca lists most matches happening in Canada. Let me warn you though, there’s a lot of running.
Posted in Marksmanship, Published Work and tagged 3-gun, firearms, shootingwith no comments yet.
The Gift of a Mule Deer
This story takes place in 2018 and was originally published in the July 2019 issue of “Alberta Outdoorsmen Magazine” the published version is much shorter.
6 weekends, each bracketed by a fifty-hour work week, in a machine shop, a job I was new to, in a new career field. Thousands of kilometers driven to my parents’ farm and back, all on the tail end of a very mentally stressing hike on the West Coast Trail. Every muscle in my legs hurt, I had, what felt like, a permanent dehydration headache compounded by exhaustion.
My usual routine was that I would drive straight from work on Friday to my parents’ farm and hunt until Sunday afternoon. I always wanted to stay for the Sunday evening hunt but I knew it would make me too tired to drive home safely. I was especially motivated this season because I was awarded a draw tag for an Antlered Mule Deer. I intended to fill that tag or die
On the first weekend of rifle season, I took a walk to a far corner of the property to see if there were mule deer where I had seen so many the previous hunting season. I had avoided the area during archery season, as it’s very open making a stalk or an ambush nearly impossible. If there were deer, they would likely be sunning themselves high on the hill and watching the field, I elected to take a long way around. This allowed me to stay hidden in the trees. As I broke out of the bush along a narrow game trail I spotted a small group of mule does, up on the side of a hill, where I hoped they would be. They spotted me immediately, to my camouflages disappointment, from nearly 400 yards out. They didn’t run, and I did not move. It was a silent stalemate, both parties quite interested in the other. Eventually, my mannequin training paid off and they lost interest. I took a few steps closer, my goal being to get behind cover and get comfortable. My theory was: if there are does here, there will eventually be bucks. The sound of my footsteps in the snow perked their ears, so I slowed. When I crouched, the water bottle in my pocket betrayed me. They got up and ran down the hill, somewhat parallel to my spot into a separate patch of bush. Seemed to me, their goal was to get around me and see what they could smell. As soon as they fell out of sight I laid flat on my back and watched for them. Sure enough, they stuck their heads out of the tree 20 yards away from me and searched around. Eventually they must have caught a sniff because they made that sound every hunter hates, they blew their noses and ran off.
I stood up and dusted the snow off. I congratulated myself on the small victory, now I knew where they spent their time. Mule deer tend to be pretty predictable. I decided my best bet was to make my way up the hill and hide in a small patch of shrubs up where there’s a better view. I slowly worked my way up and had a seat. After a few hours of sitting and watching an empty field, it was starting to get into the afternoon. I decided it would be best to head back to the house to have some lunch and prepare for an evening hunt. I had a good sitting spot in mind for whitetail, another tag I was hoping to fill. As soon as I stood up and turned around there
I got home and told my parents all about the excitement. I then headed out for a cold and unsuccessful sit for whitetail elsewhere. The next morning, Sunday, I was back on mule deer hill. By the time afternoon had arrived I had nothing to show for it and was starting to nod off. I decided I best get a move on and get home, it was still over a mile walk to the house and a 3 hour drive home. On, about, Tuesday I got a most upsetting text from my step-dad. It seems the neighbour had given someone permission to hunt on his property next to ours, this hunter had taken that deer. My step-dad had spotted it in the box of the truck pulling out of the neighbour’s field. It really threw my entire week off.
Big buck or not, I was back out hunting again the next Saturday. I
After sitting and watching long enough for my backside to go numb in the snow. It started to become obvious the big old boy just wasn’t going to come out. I guess it takes a dose of caution for a deer to get that big. Suddenly, like lightning, a deer ran out on my left, over a hill and into the middle of the field below. He stopped and turned broadside to me. His antlers were nice, but he wasn’t in the same league as the deer I was watching. He stood there, broadside, for a moment and it gave me time to think. I realized, I had my entire life to chase a monster mule, but this, this was my chance to get my first mule deer, on my first antlered draw. If ever there was a gift from above, or from the earth… this was it. A respectable mule deer standing perfectly broadside. I figured he was 200 yards out, based on my previous ranging. I made the decision to shoot. As soon as that mental switch in my head flipped, the circuits in my brain went wild. Immediately my heart rate increased. It’s hard for anyone to describe this sense of excitement, finality and yet uncertainty rolled into one. All of which desperately being stifled in an attempt to keep your hands from shaking. For every hunter, I am sure this is different, for me, it feels like my chest is imploding and building up for an explosion like a train is about to fly off the rails and its boiler is glowing red and starting to rattle. Yet in my mind, I have perfect clarity, like a runner’s high. I took aim, I lined up the
I checked my watch and made a mental note of the the minute hand. I like to wait 10 or so minutes before approaching an animal to ensure it is bled out. If I run up and scare it into the woods, its now a game of hide and seek and I risk losing the animal all together. After I checked the time, I noticed I was shaking really hard. I had officially been hit with buck fever. I pulled my phone out and took a video of it. I thought maybe it would be funny to share with my friends, but watching it I
After about 5 minutes, I pulled out my range finder and checked the actual distance, it read 160 yards. Immediately I questioned the integrity of my shot. I pulled off my binocular harness and
We got the deer home, skinned it and hung it up. To my everlasting shame, my initial shot had hit far back and high. I have no excuse for the poor shooting, on a normal day I can hit a “kill zone” sized target at 500 yards no question. All I can say
The following day I fried the tenderloin in a cast iron pan with onions, garlic and morel mushrooms. It was delicious, but the thought of that pulled shot made it feel half earned… Like the greed and desperation that wrecked the shot had gotten into the meat, and only I could taste it. The following weekend I went back to my parents to butcher and pack the meat. I also turned the head in for CWD testing, after removing the antlers. The results, luckily, came back negative.
I am glad to have gotten my first mule deer and I am glad it is such a great example of one. But I am quite saddened that things didn’t go as smoothly as I would have liked. Everyone who has hunted for any length of time talks about how eventually you wound one, or lose one outright. I guess it was just my time, but that doesn’t make it any easier to swallow.
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Types Of Gun Owners
This article was originally published in the May/June 2018 National Firearms Journal which is published by the NFA (https://nfa.ca/)
I was recently at my friend Brad’s house for what turned out to be an unsuccessful coyote hunt. While there I realized he and I both had 243 Winchesters that were very different firearms, almost comically so. Mine is an old Ruger M77 international that I had purchased used many years ago and have babied ever since. Brad’s was a spray-painted Savage model 11 that I doubt has ever seen the business end of a bore mop. It got me thinking – to him that gun is a tool, a dedicated truck or quad gun. It’s not meant to be pretty, it’s meant to perform. To me, my gun is a work of art or a piece of history and something that needs to be taken care of. I hand load for it, clean it after every use, and show it off proudly. I even went out of my way to find a high gloss scope to put on it to match the bluing. I have a real soft spot for its full-length mannlicher stock… even if it likely is the cause of my 2 MOA groups.
Two Very Different .243s
This topic of tools versus collectibles got me thinking about other people I know. My brother, for example, is more minimalist, you see it in his home with his sparse and well-placed furniture. My house has the cozy and full feel of a used book store, or a hoarders garage, depending on your taste. Our interior design styles are also reflected in our gun collections. My brother owns about a half a dozen guns, all with very different and specific purposes. I, on the other hand, own nearly thirty firearms. I love to find an obscure caliber and research all about it. I was tickled pink when my Great Uncle gave me my Great Grandfathers Savage 99 in 250-3000 (now referred to as 250 Savage), in large part because that cartridge is so fascinating to me. It came out in 1915 in the model 99 and was able to deliver an 87-grain bullet at 3000 fps, hence the 250-3000 but it was found that a 100-grain bullet was more effective for deer. I hope to use it on a deer this coming fall, for old time sake. I intend to use a modern well-constructed 87-grain bullet. Needless to say, rarities and oddities find an easy home in my safe. One of my first guns was a Savage 29B rimfire 22 LR, I found it in my father’s garage in pieces with a few bits missing. I managed to round up what was needed and turn it into a wonderful little rifle. It’s iron sights and oiled wood stock are a stark contrast of my brothers Ruger 10/22 in a Tapco stock with all kinds of bells and whistles bolted on. Both great guns, but I wouldn’t trade him.
Many of my firearms, to me, seem to represent a strange optimism. Perhaps I read too much Capstick, but years ago I got it in my head I needed a 375 Holland and Holland for my “someday” trip to Africa. I ended up getting my hands on a CZ 550 magnum with a beautiful wood stock. It was one of the only guns I could find that had a set of sights on it, a requirement for my romanticized version of a safari rifle. I’m still saving for that trip to chase a big duggaboy through the brush, but truth be told, I think my gun is worth more than I’ve got in that piggy bank.
I know I am not alone in my craziness. I once had a friend tell me, he hates using a new deer rifle for hunting. He likes to have an old one, preferably one that HE has shot a deer with before. Its got that good deer hunting mojo to it, which I totally understand. Its a strange kind of worry when you take a new deer gun into the field. What if it doesn’t know what it’s doing? I also once worked with an old man that said: “I don’t collect guns, I collect works of art, Roy Weatherby is my favorite artist.” I dare you to take a look at a Lazermark and tell me he’s wrong.
So what happens to people like us? To people who have a penchant for all things obsolete, forgotten, broken, or bruised? To be honest it will be our spouses and our wallets that suffer. I know I have never turned down a cheap gun in need of restoring. My collection has now justified its own room in our home. Maybe we can’t let these guns go because they remind us of ourselves, old relics the world has deemed obsolete and moved on from. Or maybe we are just hopeless romantic contrarians who read too many damn books.
Our stuck side by side that gave me time to think
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Cannon Shoot
Every family has strange traditions… one of my family’s particularly odd ones is attending the annual cannon shoot. I was lucky enough to have this story published in the NFA’s firearms journal, their bi-monthly publication that they send to members. For more information on the NFA (and how to become a member) visit their website here.
My parents have the second weekend of September booked off indefinitely for the annual cannon shoot. Its a full weekend event, most folks drive out Friday and camp out until Sunday. I have attended it a few times over the years and have seen my step-dad’s cannon do a lot of shooting over the years, he’s had it for about as long as I’ve been alive and definitely as long as I can remember. In 2016 I went and assisted my friend Brad who had made his own cannon and mortar, and thoroughly enjoyed myself. What I enjoy most about the competition is that its not really that competitive, I think there’s more competition on who can make the best joke on the firing line… in fact there is a trophy for that, called the “Screw Ball” award. Another aspect that I always find a bit interesting is that my step-dad and his friend Germain, who run the cannon together, are usually the youngest guys there by about 25 years. So naturally there’s a wealth of knowledge there but also there’s just something about old black powder guys that just makes them fun to hang around with.. maybe its the sense of humor required to use a dirty, smoking, outdated method of propulsion, or maybe there’s just some chemicals in that smoke that cross your wires. Either way, if you ever get a chance to spend time with a group of old black powder shooters, do it, you’ll know exactly what I mean.
Darrell and Germain’s cannon
Well, last year one of the old guard of the group had off-hand mentioned that he wasn’t sure he was up to coming out this next year. Running a cannon alone is a lot of work, in fact doing it with two people still constitutes a good workout, if you ask me. At any rate, my parents did what any parent would do… they volunteered a child as free labour to a cannoneer. I just realized that statement probably hasn’t been relatable for over 100 years. Furthermore, I am always interested in things that go boom, and learning, so I was on board immediately. My original plan was to help Brad with his cannon too, as I had the year before. However, he ended up not coming due to work obligations.. can you imagine being such a workaholic that you miss a cannon shoot? Poor guy needs help.
This year the cannon shoot was in Athabasca, which is lucky because my dad lives near there so I was able to sleep at his house over the weekend. I arrived Saturday morning and was introduced to Dan, he was an older fellow and was dressed pretty much how you’d expect a seasoned cannon shooter to be dressed. Blue jeans, a button up western shirt, suspenders, cowboy boots, and a hat that has seen more miles than I have. We hit it off immediately, we headed to his cannon and he gave me a once over of it and walked me through the procedure. Ill give you a quick step by step with some side notes here.
- MAKE SURE NO ONE IS DOWN RANGE ( he didn’t tell me this, but its just common sense that I feel is important to drill into everyone)
- Grease and load a led slug into the barrel. The most common projectiles are lead cylinders between 1 and 2 inch diameter, ours were 1 3/4 across I believe, and typically about 3 inches long or so. Guys make them by melting and pouring lead into a mold, the most common way to get bulk lead is weights from tire shops. We would also usually grease or lube a few slugs at a time and just set them aside. The slugs where placed into the rear of the cannon and tapped all the way in with a metal bar and a hammer until flush.
- Next we take the breech and fill it with black powder (about a prescription pill container full.. that was our unit of measure), place some wadding on top and then insert a fuse into the side.
- Screw the breech onto the back of the cannon (where you had just put the lead slug) usually we had to use a bar as a snipe to get it on all the way.
- Aim the cannon at your target, typically cannons use a peep sight on the rear and a post on the front. Left and right is adjusted by moving the rear of the cannon along the ground, often a tap with a hammer is enough to shift it. Elevation is adjusted with a screw gear between the barrel and the carriage, allowing the barrel to pivot up and down on its mounts.
- Announce to the line that you are ready, we were station two so we would yell “Ready on two!”
- Once all cannons on the line were ready we would fire in turn “Firing on two!” light the fuse with a propane torch, announce “fire in the hole!” and watch your target and hope you hit it.
- Once everyone has fired, the breech is unscrewed and a wet rag is pushed down the barrel to clean it and make sure there’s no smoldering bits of black powder or wadding that could set off the next load of powder. A dry rag is then run through.
- The breech threads are wiped with a wire brush.
- The cannon is pushed forward back to the line, the shot pushed it back about a foot
- Back to step 1.
The Shooting line. We are second from the end (white chassis)
Black powder is very dirty to work with. I was wearing rubber gloves but they would just rip from handling bits of metal and tightening the breech on and off. I tried leather work gloves but found I needed a bit more dexterity for loading the slugs in so they were constantly on and off. By the end of the day I admitted defeat and just let my hands turn black.
Our reloading bench, that is the breech and you can see a lead slug in the lower left
Back to the actual event. Dan was giving me a quick once over of his cannon and as I bent down to have a look at the bore, my nose started to bleed. It was off to rough start today, I quickly grabbed some paper towel and plugged my nose. Its rare for me to get a nose bleed but it inevitable happens at the worst times, of course.
Our first shoot of the day was at metal pipe at about 100 yards. We loaded up and aimed the cannon. Dan said that his gun usually shoots a bit to the right so lets go a touch left of center. I sighted us in and he bent down for a final inspection, said “looks good” and we were ready to rock. Station one, a very funny man named Henry, fired and missed by millimeters. Dan handed me the torch and told me to light it. I fired up the fuse and hoped for the best. The cannon let out a crack and a whole mess of smoke and the pipe did a back-flip. We hit it a little low of dead center. It was going to be a fantastic day. We had two more shots at the piece of pipe “where it lays” we hit it once more. The next event was stumps, same distance, hit the stump and then try and hit the largest piece that’s left, 3 shots. Our first shot split the stump and the second one cracked what was left, we missed the third. The points were, I believe 1 point per hit, the rules were kinda made up immediately before we shot. This part of the event was referred to as “the junk shoot” so it was pretty free and easy. The next junk shoot was an old fire alarm bell on a 2 inch stake, about 4 feet tall. It was decided, 3 points for hitting the bell, 1 for hitting the post and 2 for cutting the post. Our first shot rang the bell and sent it sailing 40 yards down range, our following two scared the post but never connected.
Dan making sure we are lined up
Stumps before
Stumps after
I was wondering if a slug would go through or just deform the bell. Now I know.
My favorite event, which was something new they decided to try this year, was “The Post”. Each cannon would take a turn shooting at the same post, it was a point for a hit and 2 points for cutting the post down. Cutting it down would also signal the end of the round. With 7 cannons we did three rounds. Several of the teams hit it and gave it a good wobble, and you could see a lot of kindling fly off of it, but it just didn’t want to go down.. that was until, Dan and I managed to bull it over with a shot that may have been more luck than skill, but keep that under your hat for me. We decided to break for lunch, some sandwiches, chili, and a variety of other snacks. My mom is the raining champion of cannon shoot food, every year its the highlight of the event… she does the same thing at the annual DMay fun shoot too. Im sure half of those guys arent into cannons or guns, just good meals. While having lunch a few people, including Dan had mentioned that his gun was shooting very well this year. There was some joking debate about if it was fresh eyes or beginners luck that made the difference. Either way I was happy with how the day was going.
After lunch we went back for the official shoots. There were two, one shooting at individual targets at 100 yards, and we were given points for however close were were to the bullseye. This shoot was called the “Roger Cadeaux Memorial” in reference to an older member who had passed away. Dan and I did ok, but Darrell and Germain tied with another team which lead to a shoot off, one shot, closest to center wins. That last event of the day was everyone shooting, in turn, at a large bulls-eye at 200 yards. This was again a memorial shoot named after Mr. Andy Wood, who had also passed. We did manage to connect but we did not shine at this event. I was still pretty pleased with the results of the day. After that we had supper, another staple of the event. We had some meatballs in mushroom sauce, amazing homemade chicken wings, a variety salads and some very noteworthy desserts. By the end of the meal I was worried I would split open like those stumps we shot. We then sat and joked and told stories and just generally enjoyed ourselves. Dan wandered over and handed me a beer and we toasted the days success. When the daylight was far enough away, I headed to my dads and spent some time with him. Discussed the day and pet the pug.
Our results for the Roger Cadeaux event
The next morning we were back out with the cannons. The first event was tires. Truck tires were set perpendicular to the shooting line (so they could roll toward or away from us) and we had three shots to see who could get the most distance. After each shot we could go stand our tires back up. Our tire only rolled a few feet but, to our right, at station three, they managed to push theirs nearly 100 yards. Darrell and Germain had theirs roll back and fall over right behind someone else’s tire, effectively blocking them. It wasn’t intentional but we all considered it a personal favour anyway. Next, and my second favourite shoot, was water filled washer jugs and propane tanks. They were placed at random between 80 and 120 yards. There were seven cannons, so the jugs and tanks were spray painted with numbers so there were 3 with each number on them, then were drew straws to see what number you were shooting at. Dan and I got number 5. What made this fun for me was that because they were randomly set out, some targets were blocked by other peoples so you had to strategise a bit. Shooting a far target first would reduce your chances of someone else’s target landing in your way after it got shot, but it also, in our case, meant that a slight miss would mean hitting a competitors target and giving them a free point. We opted to work front to back in the hopes that people would knock their targets out of way. As luck would have it, we went three for three on our washer jugs. It is a great feeling to see those jugs explode when that much lead slams into them.
Up next were the mortars. This event was the Doc memorial. I had actually met Doc a few times over the years, to describe him as a character probably wouldn’t quite do him justice. Lets just say he was well liked and not the kind of fellow you forget meeting. In fact he was so dedicated to the cannon community that last year we had spread his ashes, via a mortar, at the cannon shoot. We also hung a picture of him at the firing line so he could watch.
The mortars are loaded and operated in a similar fashion to the cannons, though most people fill them from the top instead of having a removable breech like the cannons. For shot, some people use lead with a bit of a tail on it to help stabilize it and some people, like Dan, use cement filled beer cans. Darrell and my friend Brad (who got most of his designs from Darrell) use hockey pucks held together with an eye bolt which has a rope attached to it, this stabilizes and helps us find them when you miss and hit the trees. They all have their pros and cons, the pucks tend to bounce more which can sometimes help you get closer to target… or throw you away from it. Where as the lead and cement cans are more authoritative in their landing. Lead seems to get the least push from wind, and beer cans full of cement are typically the cheapest to make. Pick your poison, as they say. I like the pucks, personally, as they are the easiest to make and not too expensive. The goal when shooting a mortar is to get as close as possible to an object, typically a tire laid down at about 75 yards, and bounces count. Mortars are always a good time because its mostly guess work and something funny always happens, someone puts a half load and throws their shot 4 feet or doubles the load and loses their shot passed the end of the 200 yard berm. This year was no exception and Dan and I lost a can into the trees. I couldn’t find it, but I did find a different brand of beer can full of cement that someone had lost the previous year, so we came with six cans and left with six cans, who cares if they weren’t the same. We didnt do particularly well in this event but it was still fun.
After the mortars, it was all over. We packed up our gear onto trailers and into trucks. Everyone pitched in and helped everyone get packed up. We then had some lunch, leftover chili and some more sandwiches and what ever desserts were left. That chili was just as good second time around, no question. After we were all squared away we met up in the club house for the final numbers and trophies. The screw ball award went to Darrell who I believe had had and incident and dumped a breech full of black powder onto the ground. I dont recall the mortar trophy’s new owner or the proud recipients of the Andy Wood and Roger Cadeaux. Then to my surprise I was awarded “Best Effort” more as a thanks for all my running around up and down range and helping everyone load up. Its usually the award given to new comers so I kinda got it by default, but I was still more than happy to accept it. Then when they started doing the top 3 overall, I got excited thinking Dan and I may have squeaked into 3rd place. We were shooting well all weekend and I was half keeping an eye on the competition and I knew we were in the top half or so. Third place was announced and it wasn’t us, so I figured we placed 4th or so, not too shabby if you ask me. 2nd place went to Darrell and Germain, which isn’t surprising as they are pretty good with that gun of theirs. When they announced 1st place my hat nearly flew off. Dan and I had somehow accumulated enough points in the junk shoots and kept up well enough in the other events we pulled off 1st place! This gave us two trophies as there is one for overall 1st place and one for bore diameter over 1.5 inch which we also qualified for. Dan and I shook hands and celebrated our success. We each got a 1st place trophy to take home and put on the shelf to brag about to guests. Those 2 trophies (best effort and 1st place) are real conversation starters, I must say.
As we packed up and headed out I shook Dan’s hand again and thanked him for the cannon education. He thanked me for the help. Just before I left I said “do it again next year?” “yep” was his reply. I’m already looking forward to it.
It also occurred to me and made me chuckle… I have a trophy for winning a cannon shoot, and I dont even own a cannon. But never fear, I plan on building one someday, and dont worry, you’ll hear all about it.
The Illustrious Screw Ball Award. I feel like more competitions need this trophy.
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