That is still a "yet" for me. I've been close a couple of times, though!
Walt
Walt
Ever shoot a loading rod down range? You tell me........... I won't rat you out !
- Thread starter M. De Land
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I believe that was the Last of the Mohicans.
Not yet but tis early so I have plenty of time for that statement to change.
Yep..I've shot rods down range.........on purpose:
I have shot a jag that was stuck before lost forever god only knows where it landed
Cruzatte
50 Cal.
Oh, the interesting things future archaeologists are going to find on abandoned gun ranges!
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If they come digging around my house they will be convinced there was a flint mine in SWFl
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Yes there was' Wobble' at the logging camp I worked on .Too hot so I had time so I was traveling down the Tisitika river on Vancouver island down to the coast and Salmon where running up. I had carried my cleaning rod in the barrel as the guns rod got wetted by rain & swelled . unwittingly I shot a salmon & noticed it kicked a bit well in would do. Smashed my cleaning rod but made two holes in the Salmon To avoid the thick Salal bush I got together logs off the beach to make a crude raft & paddled up to Beaver Cove thus had a ' Gun Boat .'. Fishing boats gave me steak sandwiches' no doubt amused by the novelty . The Orcas worried me a bit my raft wasn't exactly' A1 at Loydes 'but I reached Beaver Cove and I gave a curious boy my "Splendidly appointed vessel.". The' Salt Chuck' was usually calm water. The Cruise liners just made gentle waves but the hard chine speed boats stressed my flimsy craft with sharper choppy waves as I neared Beaver Cove .
Rudyard
Rudyard
Sidney Smith
58 Cal.
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Nope, never have, and I don't ever see myself doing so. I have broken a ramrod while loading on the deer opener once, but there was enough sticking out that I could pull it out with pliers instead of having to fire it out.
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Not a range rod, but I use the neck/ shoulder section cut from a .50 BMG round as a muzzle protector when shooting my repop P53 .577 Enfield rifle musket.
The rammer head goes right on through. I loaded, fired and... Where's my protector?!
The hole in the target was larger than its bretheren...
The rammer head goes right on through. I loaded, fired and... Where's my protector?!
The hole in the target was larger than its bretheren...
Rock Home Isle
58 Cal.
My very first year of hunting big game with a muzzleloader; a guy named John Elway was the new quarter back for the Broncos; I had just gotten my learners permit to drive.
3 years earlier, I got my first muzzleloading rifle, a CVA .50 calibre Mountain Rifle by saving my allowance for several months, it cost me $80.00. I had pestered my dad to hunt the blackpowder deer season ever since. Finally my dad consented to a family blackpowder deer hunt. After 3 years of stalking prairie dogs with a smokepole, I felt immanently ready for this hunt.
My younger brother, and I were hunting blackpowder, the rest of the family decided they were sticking with regular rifle season that year. My dad was hunting archery for the first time. My brother was not excited about using blackpowder, and was included by default.
The day came and the 3 of us were hunting north central Colorado, in September. Beautiful weather, beautiful mountains, not a lot of deer sign. My brother was grumpy and stomped his way around the woods, I quickly distanced myself, and slipped off on my own.
I came out on a ridge line and sat down to scan the area below me. 80 yrds away in the pines, I spied a big doe, standing broadside in the shade. I laid down behind a log; full cock, set the trigger, and touched it off. Bark exploded everywhere, as the limb, that was about 6 inches infront of my muzzle turned to splinters mixed with thick white smoke.
The doe stepped back into trees, but didn’t run.
Quickly, I measured powder and poured the load down the barrel. I laid the patch material across the muzzle, and hands shaking, I started the ball. Then I cutoff the patch material, could barely get the short starter going to start the ball. Then I pulled out the ramrod and seated the ball, firmly. I took a deep breath, and tried to calm down.
Carefully, I laid down and sighted back onto the doe. She had stepped out of the trees and was feeding. Fullcock, set the trigger, aligned my sights, took another deep breath and touched her off. The boom was followed by a “Woop, woop, woop” sound. I was confused by both the sound and the reaction of the deer…the deer merely looked up in the air and continued grazing.
Breathlessly, I measured powder and poured the load down the barrel. I laid the patch material across the muzzle, and started the ball. Then I cutoff the patch material, short started the ball. Then I reached for the ramrod. Where was the ramrod? What happened to the ramrod? What the frick happened to my ramrod?
Then I remembered the weird, “Woop, woop, woop” sound.
My dad found me about 15 minutes later. He heard the shots and quickly came in my direction to see if we had a deer. He found me sitting on a log shaving a willow limb down so that I could seat the ball and get back to hunting deer. My brother was standing there laughing at me and would tease me for years after that hunt.
I got my deer 2 hours later, 1st shot, running. 4x4 mule deer buck….so happy ending.
3 years earlier, I got my first muzzleloading rifle, a CVA .50 calibre Mountain Rifle by saving my allowance for several months, it cost me $80.00. I had pestered my dad to hunt the blackpowder deer season ever since. Finally my dad consented to a family blackpowder deer hunt. After 3 years of stalking prairie dogs with a smokepole, I felt immanently ready for this hunt.
My younger brother, and I were hunting blackpowder, the rest of the family decided they were sticking with regular rifle season that year. My dad was hunting archery for the first time. My brother was not excited about using blackpowder, and was included by default.
The day came and the 3 of us were hunting north central Colorado, in September. Beautiful weather, beautiful mountains, not a lot of deer sign. My brother was grumpy and stomped his way around the woods, I quickly distanced myself, and slipped off on my own.
I came out on a ridge line and sat down to scan the area below me. 80 yrds away in the pines, I spied a big doe, standing broadside in the shade. I laid down behind a log; full cock, set the trigger, and touched it off. Bark exploded everywhere, as the limb, that was about 6 inches infront of my muzzle turned to splinters mixed with thick white smoke.
The doe stepped back into trees, but didn’t run.
Quickly, I measured powder and poured the load down the barrel. I laid the patch material across the muzzle, and hands shaking, I started the ball. Then I cutoff the patch material, could barely get the short starter going to start the ball. Then I pulled out the ramrod and seated the ball, firmly. I took a deep breath, and tried to calm down.
Carefully, I laid down and sighted back onto the doe. She had stepped out of the trees and was feeding. Fullcock, set the trigger, aligned my sights, took another deep breath and touched her off. The boom was followed by a “Woop, woop, woop” sound. I was confused by both the sound and the reaction of the deer…the deer merely looked up in the air and continued grazing.
Breathlessly, I measured powder and poured the load down the barrel. I laid the patch material across the muzzle, and started the ball. Then I cutoff the patch material, short started the ball. Then I reached for the ramrod. Where was the ramrod? What happened to the ramrod? What the frick happened to my ramrod?
Then I remembered the weird, “Woop, woop, woop” sound.
My dad found me about 15 minutes later. He heard the shots and quickly came in my direction to see if we had a deer. He found me sitting on a log shaving a willow limb down so that I could seat the ball and get back to hunting deer. My brother was standing there laughing at me and would tease me for years after that hunt.
I got my deer 2 hours later, 1st shot, running. 4x4 mule deer buck….so happy ending.
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I have not yet . Sounds like a good time
I have done it. I will shorten the story though. Early on in my muzzleloading days I shot a ramrod and load at the garage floor. I found the bullet and both ends of the rod. So stupid. Got real smokey and my ears rang for days.
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Your P-H Whitworth? I'd be grateful to know the serial number for Mr Minshall's records.
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"Across The Wide Missouri" Clark Gable, 1951.
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Once. Just once. Don't load and shoot during a conversation. Had a friend that did it at least 3 times.
The first example that I've found of firing your ramrod was in the 1839 book on the Life and Adventures of Timothy Murphy. (No, he DID NOT claim to have shot British General Simon Fraser at Saratoga!). Here's an example of his exploits.
