By request:
It was a particularly wet dear season in Northwest oregon long ago, Im going to guess 1995 but I'm not sure. I do know it was the first year I had my Hawken Woodsman by Traditions.
I bought it because It was a more affordable hunting rifle versus a modern rifle, and I figured I knew what I was doing because I had my CVA cap n ball revolver. $250 or so out the door with cleaning solvent, some blue water based stuff; a pound of Pyrodex RS; a box of .490 ball; and a 20 round box of maxi hunters.
I had been working up a monster load for those maxi hunters, (All 370 grains of them) all summer. I am sure I spent quite a bit of coin on the silly bullets.
Fall and winter came, and with it an unseasonably wet winter even for the northwest area of Oregon. My hunting buddy and I got out into the woods before sunup, and settled in for a long wet day. (He Probably thought I was a little crazy wanting to take this old thing in the woods after a deer, much less in the weather we had, but was a great friend and just smiled at the thought of me actually taking a deer with it)
Well the deer were smarter than we were and stayed under cover during the day long rain, so we spent the day in two or three areas we'd scouted but found nothing.
We hiked out and met at the truck, wet cold, tired and disappointed.
Knowing how wet it was I wasn't going to chance leaving the rifle loaded for the next day; so as the sun was setting and darkness was creeping into the woods I pointed her at a nearby tree and pulled the trigger.
"POP!" goes the cap..
He looks at me dubiously, I recap, point, squeeze.
POP...
I am now worried, but I recap again and repeat the process.
Knowing that this meant that 90 grain charge of Pyrodex was wet I took a risk, not having shot with other BP shooters I was guessing it would work; not owning a ball puller I had no choice. I removed the nipple and promptly dropped it in the gravel at my feet; then cursed like the former sailor I am.
While I frantically looked around on my hands and knees in the dark my buddy moved the truck so the headlights were pointing at the area I needed light. Then for good measure grabbed his flashlight and helped.
The muzzleloader gods must have been amused enough, for they allowed me to find that mipple lying in the wet gravel.
I breathed a sigh of relief; then stuffed as much Pyrodex as I could muster into the nipple hole and then rethreaded the nipple to the rifle.
With a silent prayer I recapped, pointed, and squeezed off.
POP!!! I'm thinking oh manure; then she goes Pfffffssssssswoosh!
A full second at least passed before we heard the projectile hit the tree I had it pointed at. The tree was no more than 15 feet away...
We spent the rest of the weekend (Three days for us) tearing down the rifle, drying the stock, (who knew Traditions doesn't seal the wood under the metal parts?!?!?) and refinishing the nearly ruined stock INCLUDING sealing the wood in all places!!!
And that my friends was the one time I have ever fired a black powder weapon and not smiled.. Well ok I am pretty sure I smiled but it was relief not happiness.. I was tired, wet, cold, ****** off, and questioning my choice of firearms.
It was a particularly wet dear season in Northwest oregon long ago, Im going to guess 1995 but I'm not sure. I do know it was the first year I had my Hawken Woodsman by Traditions.
I bought it because It was a more affordable hunting rifle versus a modern rifle, and I figured I knew what I was doing because I had my CVA cap n ball revolver. $250 or so out the door with cleaning solvent, some blue water based stuff; a pound of Pyrodex RS; a box of .490 ball; and a 20 round box of maxi hunters.
I had been working up a monster load for those maxi hunters, (All 370 grains of them) all summer. I am sure I spent quite a bit of coin on the silly bullets.
Fall and winter came, and with it an unseasonably wet winter even for the northwest area of Oregon. My hunting buddy and I got out into the woods before sunup, and settled in for a long wet day. (He Probably thought I was a little crazy wanting to take this old thing in the woods after a deer, much less in the weather we had, but was a great friend and just smiled at the thought of me actually taking a deer with it)
Well the deer were smarter than we were and stayed under cover during the day long rain, so we spent the day in two or three areas we'd scouted but found nothing.
We hiked out and met at the truck, wet cold, tired and disappointed.
Knowing how wet it was I wasn't going to chance leaving the rifle loaded for the next day; so as the sun was setting and darkness was creeping into the woods I pointed her at a nearby tree and pulled the trigger.
"POP!" goes the cap..
He looks at me dubiously, I recap, point, squeeze.
POP...
I am now worried, but I recap again and repeat the process.
Knowing that this meant that 90 grain charge of Pyrodex was wet I took a risk, not having shot with other BP shooters I was guessing it would work; not owning a ball puller I had no choice. I removed the nipple and promptly dropped it in the gravel at my feet; then cursed like the former sailor I am.
While I frantically looked around on my hands and knees in the dark my buddy moved the truck so the headlights were pointing at the area I needed light. Then for good measure grabbed his flashlight and helped.
The muzzleloader gods must have been amused enough, for they allowed me to find that mipple lying in the wet gravel.
I breathed a sigh of relief; then stuffed as much Pyrodex as I could muster into the nipple hole and then rethreaded the nipple to the rifle.
With a silent prayer I recapped, pointed, and squeezed off.
POP!!! I'm thinking oh manure; then she goes Pfffffssssssswoosh!
A full second at least passed before we heard the projectile hit the tree I had it pointed at. The tree was no more than 15 feet away...
We spent the rest of the weekend (Three days for us) tearing down the rifle, drying the stock, (who knew Traditions doesn't seal the wood under the metal parts?!?!?) and refinishing the nearly ruined stock INCLUDING sealing the wood in all places!!!
And that my friends was the one time I have ever fired a black powder weapon and not smiled.. Well ok I am pretty sure I smiled but it was relief not happiness.. I was tired, wet, cold, ****** off, and questioning my choice of firearms.
ff NHMoose post reminded me of an old pastor we had. Kinda sorta dang near 100% redneck. We drove up to drop off a book at his house one night and caught him finishing off some grilled chicken with a blow torch :shocked2: Seems the grille ran outta gas. I'm sure he would have flicked his bick
