Unlike most of you, I have a total lack of any connection with muzzleloading, having spent most of my life in places where those who shoot are either looked at as simply odd to downright untrustworthy - a rather odd point of view when you realise that, as shooters, we are more investigated and referee'd than any other sport in history.
So my deep and abiding love of shooting smelly old guns comes from the early 1970s, when I bought my first muzzle-loader, the perennially popular Parker-Hale Musketoon that I still have. Gun laws hereabouts being what they are, I still have only a Musketoon and a couple of revolvers, as well as two Sniders [sorry].
Although I enjoy shooting them, and do so a LOT, I get my greatest kick from letting other folks shoot them and watching their reactions as they do so. Remember that here in yUK less than one person in a hundred has ever [legally] even TOUCHED a real firearm of any kind, and seeing the look of amazed delight on touching off a Ruger Old Army or Walker or Musketoon is worth every cent in your pocket.
This coming Saturday I'm going to a local gun store with a guy who has just gotten his Firearm Certificate, on which are the magic words 'Permission to acquire and possess - 1 x .36cal BP handgun, 1 x .44cal BP handgun.
A real red-letter day for him, and a kick in the teeth for all the anti-gunners in his congregation. Yup, he's a priest.
He joked that the sulphur smell would no doubt be a pressager to the brimstone he expects to be inhaling post mortem, having been a bit of a wild card in his youth.
tac