A week ago I was sitting in my primitive cabin, warmed by a wood fire and reading a book on Lewis and Clark. Felt excellent. It was the life. My .58 cal. percussion was loaded and ready for the next morning's hunt. Was going to read a bit and then clean the Remington revolver I had fired that afternoon. Started to feel some stomach pain. Got worse. Thought I should head home. Before I hit town I had changed destinations. I was headed to the ER. 50 miles into town at 45 mph. Surgery at 2am to remove a part of my guts that had died. Had I stayed at the cabin for the rest of the night, I probably would have died.
I did not want the surgeon to use 1860 period correct methods and equipment. I read a lot about the Civil War. I did not want a Civil War era surgeon. I wanted 2016, state of the art stuff.
Now, after I have recovered a bit, I will go back out to the cabin and clean that revolver, discharge that rifle and clean up the place a bit.
This black powder love we have is a hobby. It is more of a game, a sport. It is not life, but a part of life. I read about the collapse of Western Civilization if we loose our black powder heritage. That is not true. We will do just fine. My kids are better educated that I was. They have happy fulfilling lives. And one daughter is interested in muzzle loading because of the history that goes with it. And the fact that her Old Man likes it and gives her lots of bp stuff.
This whole thing should be fun. I think I hear that in almost all of the comments on this forum. But sometimes we take ourselves just a little bit too seriously.
Have fun, laugh, tell stories, cook over a fire, cast you own balls. Smile.
