I haven’t fed Annie since her first successful range trip, well over a year ago. For the newcomers, Annie is my Savage 111 Long Range Hunter rifle chambered in .338 Lapua Magnum, topped with a Weaver T-series 36X benchrest scope.
During the aforementioned range trip, I got the scope close at 200 yards. My range has three positions that go out to 300 yards, but all of those were all taken by the time I had finished at 200. It had been a fun (and expensive) day already, so instead of waiting for a position to open up, I went home. I intended to return shortly thereafter, but life happened.
Things aren’t much less hectic now than they have been for the last eighteen months. But, for my emotional health, and because I want to, I plan to make range time a higher priority than it has been.
As often as not, recent outings of the shooting variety have been spurred by Shooting Buddy. This is not a bad thing. I am lazy, even when it comes to things that I enjoy. I had an ex tell me once that she was surprised that I wasn’t too lazy to have sex. But I digress.
Like I was saying, SB would get an itchy trigger finger, or have a new toy/configuration he wanted to try out, and off we would go. I would seldom put more than 50 rounds downrange, if I shot at all. I always seemed to have something else on my mind – house, work, insomnia, something. Instead of taking advantage of the distraction, I allowed these potential opportunities for relaxation to be wasted. Things must change.
At least once per month, every month, I hope to be hitting the range and shooting more than 100 rounds. Unless it is Annie. In which case, twenty rounds will cause sufficient trauma to my wallet.
My goals are as follows:
I have done very little rifle shooting over the years. I was always decent, scoring Marksman (defined as getting a minimum of 35/40 hits on a target with reduced silhouetes that simulated 100, 200, and 300 meters) both times that I qualified while on active duty. I have owned several different rifles, but never shot any of them enough to sharpen my skills beyond what I guess is natural ability. I want to change that.
My range holds High Power Rifle competitions from time to time, and I had hoped to shoot Annie in one, attempting to come in anywhere but dead last. However, it would appear that when I heard “high power rifle”, I imagined something very different than what the NRA did when they came up with the name.
They should call it a Service Rifle Competition, or some such shit. .223/5.56? High power? Give me a fucking break. High power compared to a .22 magnum, maybe. My primary carry revolver with a 2.58″ barrel generates more muzzle energy, for fuck’s sake. Oh, well. I don’t like people anyway. I guess I’ll create a course of fire and execute it myself.
The only practice rifle I have is my somewhat improved Ruger 10/22. It is much lighter, and has neither recoil nor a bolt to cycle, but I think that shooting it at 50 yards would give me valuable skills. Stance, target acquisition, and breathing control should be very similar. The view through the 4X scope at 50 yards should be close to 36X at 300 yards. And I can fire either 64 rounds of .22LR or a single round of .338 for the same money.
Despite the extended shortage of 22 ammo, I have a fair amount squirreled away, and with the Volquartsen upgrade, it will feed anything. I just have to rescue it from the ex-roomie’s place, where my gun safe still resides.
I finally got my telescope, and I plan to put it to use on Saturday, zeroing Annie at 300. But you know what they say:
Men plan, and God laughs.
Yes, I know that is a Yiddish proverb, and being the racist piece of shit that I am, I’m supposed to hate the Jooz and all things Jewish. But since when have I ever done anything I was supposed to do?