Sometimes a scope can just be a faster way to miss. Forget EVERYTHING you ever saw and that Hollywood ever produced with ANYTHING about rifle and a scope. Forget ALL those episodes of Hawaii Five-O where the guy in the hotel room clicks-on a scope and peers out a window with the cross-hairs on something/somebody. Just forget it ALL. The scope isn’t a majickal bullet-directing talisman, it’s just a different kind of sight-system that you can f*-up.
Sighting-in is a CHORE done best sitting-up on a bright and sunny noon-time with plenty of daylight, but here I was laying down on a cold and overcast Saturday morning. After the first five shots went twelve to sixteen feet left and six to eight feet down I knew I had some knob-twirling to do. I stayed prone during the Offhand stage and still was just kicking dirt. After Rapid-Seated and the target was still bare I twirled s’more. I think I went too high and then too low again. I’m not very scientifical about numbers and dials, I better be careful with the powder measure… Finally I started lacing the bottom of the target with holes in Slow-Prone, and began to work my way up. Seeking guidance, one of the elder-statesmen of the club and commented that I was wiggling around too much. I ran out of bullets and still had not been able to pierce the magical X-ring. It’s not ass easy as all that.
So we went to work while the “New Guys” ran Relay-2, and built new target stands. The old ones are shredded and splintered from errant misses and beat to hell by the summer sun – and that includes the decayed railroad ties that hold them in place and provide sanctuary to the rattlesnakes. The weather was cold and overcast and only brightened up to a cool midday haze – reminded me of one summer in Germany.