J.D. said:
IMHO, the Lyman GPR is as close as a production kit will come to a, somewhat, historically accurate rifle. Notice I said somewhat. The GPR is kinda, sorta close to what a generic plains type rifle would have looked like. The TC, and other production "Hawken" named rifles aren't even close.
THE GPR kit is the least expensive of the good, reasonably authentic kits. It is also easily finished and assembled by someone with only the most basic tools and skills.
J.D.
I'm bias to say the least when it comes to the GPR. Bookie, have to ask, what is a GPL???
Anyways, a kit gun is more than the sum of its parts. If you go with the GPR or like kit, then you want to take a gander at a book titled the Plains Rifle by Charles Hanson. I spent three months reading the text and studying the photos, before I started my GPR kit. Here are the results:
Here's my Lyman Great Plains that I built over 22 years ago. In the early 1980's, I decided I wanted to know more about the fur period and in the Belle Chase library, I came across a book entitled "The Plains Rifle", and those guns looked nothing like the "Hawken" that Redford toted across the silver screen. I found that the gun that Redford carried was based in design on the Leman trade guns of the period. I kept that book out for six months straight.
When I decided to put a kit together, I forewent the multitudes of Italian made kits, as well as, the Thompsons and opted for the Lyman Great Plains in .54 percussion. I sometimes regret that I didn't choose flint. But, whenever I start to feel that way, I have but to take a look at Lucifer and all regrets disappear.
I ordered my kit from an ad in the Shotgun News, and sent off a money order for the sum of $134.95, $125 for the kit and another $9.95 for shipping. When the box arrived, I wondered what I would find inside. Opening the box, I found the nicest piece of European Black Walnut and a 95% inletted kit. The wood alone was worth twice the price I paid for the kit all together.
Looking over the stock, it just didn't sit right. So I recontoured the comb and added a grease hole, which were more the rule. The stock received no staining other than what occurs with age. I applied four coats of hand rubbed Birchwood Casey's Tru-Oil. Each coat was allowed to throughly dry, gone over with 0000 steel wool and buffed out with a woolen rag.
The ramrod, was the only piece of wood that I stained. Which was dyed with Ox Blood leather dye and finished off with three coats Tru-Oil. Again, each coat was handrubbed and allowed to throughly dry, gone over with 0000 steel wool and buffed out with a woolen rag.
Deciding that I would brown the all steel furniture and the barrel, I left the nose cap in the white, a sort of faux pewter. Using Dixie's browning solution, I corked the muzzle and plugged the nipple seat. I let the humid Louisiana summer do the rest. Or should I say rust? After degreasing the exterior of the barrel and wearing rubber gloves, I would apply the browning solution in the morning before heading off to work and let the parts hang in my bathroom window. After a good coat of surface rust accumulated, I would card it down with a stiff degreased brass bristle brush. The browning took six weeks, before I was satisfied with the finish. Sort of looks like a parkerized flat brown finish. I stopped the rust with boiling water and follow that with water souble machine oil.
The whole affair went on for two months, before I decided I was done. I looked at my handicraft and thought to myself, "You're too pretty to shoot straight."
Taking some .535 round balls and greased pillow ticking I headed for the range. Setting a 30 inch section of 2"x4" out at 50 yards, I looked down the barrel, set the trigger and breathed. Foom, when the great cloud of smoke cleared, the section of 2"x4" was now two sections of 2"x2". Beautiful and shoots like the devil, what else could I name him but "Lucifer"?
