I copied this from a post I made on another thread...not about my first muzzleloader, but the first that had meaning:
A .50 calibre CVA Mountain Rifle...that was my first muzzleloader of note.
When I was 12 years old, I spotted this wonderful shiny beautiful brand new muzzleloader hanging on a rack behind the counter of a local pawnshop. The gun captivated my imagination; it's lines, architecture, the history that it represented. At that moment, I started saving my money, and 6 months later I into that pawnshop to buy that gun and it was gone. In its place was a rough looking CVA Mountain Rifle for $85.00. Someone had built the gun from a kit, and I suspect that they didn't know what they were doing. I had peddled my bicycle 7 miles into town to buy a gun and I wasn't going to peddle home empty handed. I bought that gun with all the money that I had saved. Tied the heavy rifle across the handle bars of my bicycle with a jump rope, then peddled 7 miles back home.
Using what I could find in books from our school library, I taught myself how to load it and clean it and care for it. Later I would meet Fred Newcomb (?), undeafeated Colorado State Muzzleloading Champion, who would open doors to rooms of knowledge concerning shooting blackpowder.
When I bought that CVA, my parents had just gotten divorced; both of them had pretty much checked out. Us kids, my brother and sisters, we took care of ourselves...that gun put a lot of food on our table. Rabbits were a common table fair, as were squirrels. Doves didn't fair to well with the big .50 no matter how small a charge I loaded it (I must say that I have a great (Almost Awesome) recipe for Rabbit Stew).
At 80 yards I could put 5 shots into a single ragged hole with that gun, from off hand; it has never failed me in the field. I've replaced many of the parts over the years as they became worn or broke, but it never failed me when I needed it while hunting. I discovered that when I ran out of .50 calibre RBs, I could patch .45's with denim and keep on hunting; until I could afford to peddle to the store and buy more of both.
The Mountain Rifle took a goose at one point; I watched it land at the far end of a huge field. I was out huntingand was able to crawl down the corn rows for several hundred yards and close the distance.
As I grew older, Colorado offered a BlackPowder Season. I've taken countless deer with my CVA and sooo many elk.
That ole rifle is still one of my most prized possessions...it has really weathered well over the long decades. My Mountain Rifle taught me a lot about hunting and stalking, due to the limitations of the technology. And it provided for my family at a time in my life when things were really tough and lonely.
These days that ole .50 sits in my gun room, leaned in the corner. Its not as shiny and pretty as it once was, the barrel is well past its prime, the rifling is faint, but present. From time to time, I still enjoy hefting it and feeling it’s weight as I hold it to my shoulder and looking down the sites.
My current interests involve Rock Locks; these firearms really intrigue me. I have taken lots of game with various smoke poles and modern arms, but none is as special as that first gun of note.