Black powder in my 50-70, yes! In my 22 Hornet or 405 WCF, no, thank you.
Kevin
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Black powder in my 50-70, yes! In my 22 Hornet or 405 WCF, no, thank you.
Kevin
Knowledge I take to my grave is wasted.
I prefer to use cartridges born before I was.
Success doesn't make me happy, being happy is what allows me to be successful.
I love BP for my TD and Sharps. Not opposed to smokeless at all but it does seem I get better accuracy and control using BP. BP is easy to clean IMO, but there are more cleaning steps. I also think loading BP rounds is a little easier/faster than smokeless. I never have to trim and you can measure by volume rather than weight and I don't crimp. I used to think BP was an extra chore I didn't want but I think you have to do it to find out the realities.
Cleaning my breech loaders, lever actions is a simple hose in the chamber, flush for a minute then patch a few times, dry and oil.
10 minutes if that.
Takes me longer to clean the cases than my Sharps.
Old enough to know better, young enough to do it anyway!
Men who don't understand women fall into two categories: bachelors and husbands!
I like to shoot my replica 36 caliber cap and ball Colt Navy but hate to do the cleaning so it rarely gets shot. I don't see how anybody could not enjoy the smoke and smell. If I had somebody to do the cleaning I'd shoot it a lot more.
For me it's whatever is period correct. If it's an original BP cartridge.....it gets fed BP. If its an original smokeless cartridge...well, the same. I don't own anything meant for BP that's ever been fed smokeless.....I just can't buck the history. But....that's where my passion lies, the history. If it shoots 'minute of barn' but I get to shoot it as close to historical accuracy as possible, then I'm happy with those guns. Some I try to push for accuracy, because I want to hunt with them, but others....I'm just happy to make them go bang, because it's cool that I still can.
Modern smokeless stuff....I'm pretty obsessive about accuracy as the technology is readily and easily available to make them as accurate as we are capable of as shooters.
Two different pursuits for me.....
"Do not follow where the path might lead, go instead where there is no path and leave a trail" Ralph Waldo Emerson
Sorry ! didnt mean that to come out rudeOriginally Posted by dverna
Despite outward appearances I'm not a purist either - just like foolin around with old guns,
which led me to blackpowder, when I did that most of the problems I had trying to make old guns work with smokeless went away (problems we wouldnt experience today with quality loading gear and plenty of information)
like earlier, fun guns and work guns --- if something around here needs killing I pick up a smokeless gun proly with a scope - but thats work - do enough killin and it gets to be work for most of us - variations on that theme too, hogs and snakes are at the bottom of my sympathy pole, mean natured dogs (pit bull, rotweiler etc) come close.
There is an urban myth about how messy, and troublesome blackpowder is to work with, its not near as much trouble as fellers that dont do it have been led to believe - and dedicated blackpowder shooters are as much to blame for that as anyone - we have a bloke in our local club takes prospective newbys under his wing and gives advice - after listening to that a couple of times we never see them again - I swear this dude could write a 15 page essay on how to strike a match !
The most interesting and fun part of my blackpowder trip has been discovering the level of accuracy that can be had - see that group Leadpot posted a while back, 100shots without a break or a clean - just chewed the centre out of the black at 200yards ----wow!
Duplex gets you both, cleaner and more power, ----and its an easy deal to do as well!
Not for me thanks. My Dad shoots a bit of the stuff - mostly the substitutes. It's occasionally entertaining for the history lesson. . .but when that lesson is the Peacemaker clone that will run all day on smokeless starts binding up after 50-100 rounds of charcoal and takes massively longer to clean, you quit longing for "the bad old days". Too much time; too much paranoia about iron oxide.
WWJMBD?
In the Land of Oz, we cast with wheel weight and 2% Tin, Man.
I just loaded some .405 with black powder, they hold 77gr. Haven't found time to shoot them yet. I don't find the M95 Winchester in .405 a pleasant shooting experience with smokeless loads.
I started this thread in reference to BP and lever guns. I have built and shot muzzleloaders since 1980 so Black powder as a propellent is natural for me and has never seemed like any extra work. When I shot cowboy action, I shot all black powder. With the proper bullet and lube it's a lot of fun. Full power loads, just like the old days. No mouse farts.
I also like using it because I make my own cartridge grade BP - so primers are the only thing I need to buy.
YES! I have tried the duplex load, and it did make a difference. I lube my bullets with SPG, but I need a mold that will make deeper lube grooves, or at least more than ONE lube groove. I know those molds are available, but I don't like the price.
Shooting BP in my Browning BPCR is an eyeopener. Over the chronology the loads were very consistent. If I remember right some where around 6-8 fps variation. Slow at 1100-1200 fps but very predictable.
Been awhile since I shot this, have to get it going again this summer.
Don
Ruger Old Army's have taken a lot of Eastern Kentucky deer around here. They take as long to clean as it does to reload pistol ammunition. In brushy, hilly area's, they are much easier to get around with than a rifle. With a full load, they are good as far as you can hit a coffee can.
YES! I've been shooting in cowboy action matches since 1985 and in BP categories since 1986. I love my .36 Navies, 1873s and 1860 Henry. 12 ga TTN 1878 copies for the shotgun and I'm a happy camper. Clean up of a BP gun is simple matter of some hot water and patches, wet, then dry, then oiled. Properly tuned my 1851s will run for a full 3 day match, even a few that involve 8 stages per day... Same with my 1873s & 1860, all 3 long guns in 45 Colt. The right bullet, lube and clearances on the carrier make for smooth running. I'd be competitive if I was faster or had more practice time. Rain does make for a foul day!
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n7YWNCbw8OA
Turns out, that while I'd succeeded in keeping the revolvers & powder dry, the caps in my inline capper got soaked. Took something like 25 caps to get ten shots off, but... it capped off a clean match, no misses, no penalties, over 3 days & 12 stages.
Griff
NRA Patron
SASS Endowment/Life
CMSA Life
I paid the price and have no regrets. My black powder life is very good now. Bullets of modern design really suck if you're shooting black powder.
Why I Don’t Shoot Blackpowder!
Understand that from the time I could put together a rational thought, I’ve been fascinated by guns. My mother used to prop me in front of the little round picture box as a baby so I could watch men on horseback shooting at each other with guns...
The first “real” shooter I owned was a Mattel Fanner 50... it shot Mattel Shootin’ Shells and used Greenie Stick ‘Em caps. I was greased-lightning fast and Grim Reaper deadly with it... for my punishment of erroneous deeds my mom would take the gun away for a few days... dad, on the other hand, used the gunbelt for a more heartily applied punishment to the South end of this Northbound cowpoke. It seems like that gunbelt got as much [applied] use as that Fanner 50. Who knew old people would jump that high when you shot them in the butt? Sorry, Nana... but the bone china tea set dad bought to replace the one you were carrying was much prettier and newer than that 150 year old set you were always bragging to Aunt Gladys about... And Cousin Peter? Sorry about the eye, buddy. But at least it kept you out of the army...
When I was twelve I was shipped off for the summer to church camp, where I was introduced to the joys of the .22 Long Rifle cartridge. There were six shooters in my squad and we could choose from the six semi-auto and two bolt action rifles available. Even then it was evident I’d be a purist: I was the only one to choose a bolt action. While the other kids were busy shooting hundreds of rounds of ammo downrange as quickly as they could, I carefully aimed my bolt action in the general direction of the targets... while actually shooting birds over by the pond like Gary Cooper taught George Tobias to shoot turkeys in Sgt. York– “sorta from back to front...”, and imagining each of those evil birds was wearing a German helmet. I still say the counselors should have told us on Orientation Day. I mean, who even knew there WERE swans, huh? They looked like big ducks wearing holdup masks, if you really want to know the truth. Dad didn’t see it that way, though... especially since he had to pay for the swans– and they didn’t refund the seven weeks’ unused camp tuition when they expelled me, either. Did I mention what dad used my Fanner 50 gunbelt for?
After my exposure to the real thing at camp– albeit for only a brief period– I wasn’t too interested in playing with the Daisy BB guns my friends had. I was above owning one of those childish things... but not above borrowing one to play with every once in awhile. And Ritchie? Sorry about the eye, buddy. But at least it kept you out of the army...
I finally turned eighteen and could [legally] own my own black powder revolver, but I was just a bit short in the savings department. Not being the patient sort, I chose the most expedient means to get the money. As I look back now, I suppose I am sorry those junior high kids couldn’t turn in their paper route money that week...
I’d been looking at a pretty, brass-framed BP revolver in the case at Shattuck’s Hardware for a couple of months, and boy! Was I ever proud the day I went in and plunked down the money for it! Eleven dollars in one dollar bills... and eighteen dollars in quarter and dimes. Old Man Shattuck was a great old guy, whose eyesight, thankfully, had gotten really bad over the years... otherwise he’d have chased me out of the store like he used to after he caught me stealing that Barlow when I was thirteen... but he didn’t recognize me as he sold me the .36 caliber pistol... he even threw in a box of pure lead balls with the pistol and percussion caps when I bought the pound of black powder. I told Mr. Shattuck that I was anxious to shoot it and was heading straight for the dump, and asked him to show me how to load the gun. “It’s pretty simple,” I recall his telling me. “You measure your powder into the cylinder chamber, put a bullet over it, ram it down in with the hinged thing under the barrel, put your cap over a nipple, and you’re set to shoot.” I thanked him for his help and headed for the door.
“One last thing!” he called to me as I was running out the door, “Don’t forget to put grease over your balls! Crisco works fine!” I didn’t understand the need for the last part, but I stopped at Tony’s Grocery and bought a little blue can of Crisco grease. And now... to the dump! Where bottles and cans, rats and crows were just waiting for this ol’ cowboy to do ‘em in!
I replayed Mr. Shattuck’s instructions in my head as I laid out all my gear on the smoothed-out, brown paper bag at my feet. The first thing I realized was that I didn’t have anything to measure the powder with... UNTIL I remembered my knife! I carried one of those folding stag handled camper’s knives– you know, the ones with a fork on one side and a spoon on the other? The spoon was perfect for what I needed! Very carefully (thank heaven there wasn’t any wind blowing) I poured a spoonful of powder from the can into the spoon, then tipped the spoon up and tapped the powder into the cylinder. Sure, I spilled a bunch over because the spoon held so much more, but what the heck! Powder was cheap, back then... and I had plenty to spare...
Being a methodical kind of kid, I filled all six chambers with the powder, managing to spill as much around my feet, I suppose, as I was getting into the cylinder. I can laugh now, but when I bent over to get the bullets all the powder fell out of the cylinders onto my boots... so I had to fill them all over again! I managed to get all the chambers filled with powder and then stuck a bullet into the first cylinder... I had to really tap it in with my knife to get it started... then shoved it in as far as it would go with the rammer thing. I lost a little powder in the process, but eventually I had all six chambers loaded and ready to go. Then I put percussion caps over the things sticking out the ends of the cylinders...
Oops! I forgot a couple of things!
Now, I’ll admit my ignorance about a lot of things... but why I was supposed to smear Crisco on my balls is still a mystery to me. But I figured Old Man Shattuck knew what he was about, so I looked around to make sure I was alone, then dropped my pants to my knees, opened the can of Crisco and began to smear it over Lefty and Righty. Standing there in the hot summer sun, slowly massaging soft, silky grease into my scrotum... gee WHIZ! I guess the old man knew what he was talking about after all ! Welcome to the joys of shooting! I had to force myself out of my reverie...
One last thing and then I’d be ready to shoot... I took my baseball cap off and stuffed it inside my shirt over my left nipple. Okay... I guessed I was ready (except, of course, that in my haste I’d forgotten to pull up my pants...)
Well sir, I crooked my left arm out in front of my face, rested the trigger guard of the pistol in my right hand on it, drew a tight bead on an old Four Roses bottle, and squeezed the trigger. I remember a bright flash, a burning sensation on my arm and face, then something hit me square in the forehead and the lights went out.
It must have been quite sometime later when I awoke. I was laid out across the back seat of Sheriff Miller’s car (I knew this from the plexi-glass partition and a previous ride when I’d been sixteen), the rider’s side door was open and my feet and lower legs were hanging out. As I raised my head to look for the source of the voices I heard I felt like someone had hit me in the head with a sledgehammer. I could see two men in the dim, evening light, just outside the door and within my range of vision. At least, I thought they were two men... I could hear two speaking but they were sorta spinning around and they looked like six. From the voices I knew they were Sheriff Miller and my Dad...
“... busy on another call so the volunteer fire department was the first out here,” I heard the Sheriff explaining to my dad. “Mabel Krutchner called it in... said she saw smoke comin’ from the dump and had heard an awful explosion over this way."
“Near as I can tell from what the firemen say, when they got here they found your boy lying over there. At first they thought he was dead. The dump was on fire all around him, his left arm and face were all black, his boots were scorched pretty badly, he had a HUGE knot on his forehead where somebody’d cold-cocked him... And... well, we think the boy’s been... well, taken advantage of.”
“What do you mean ‘Taken advantage of?’” I heard my dad ask.
“Well, Al, it’s like this,” the Sheriff said. “The first men to get to your boy said he was unconscious; they found part of a gun by his body; his pants were down around his ankles, his crotch was smeared with KY Jelly and he was sportin’ a big boner...”
Then I heard Mr. Shattuck’s voice. “I always knew there was something wrong with that boy...This will probably keep him out of the army...”
And THAT’S why I don’t shoot black powder!
Hold Still Varmint; while I plugs Yer!
Lmao! That was a good read!
You don’t have a lever gun. The most I could ever squeeze into the cases for my Marlin was 65 grains. After trying a drop tube and compressing until the case split, I settled on 60 grains.
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