forindooruseonly
Member
Cleaned up our range the other day and climbed on top of the berm to snap a pic - strangely enough in the twenty years in which we've had the range, I've never actually bothered to go up there before. It made me pause and be thankful for something which I maybe took for granted. Sometimes it takes a new perspective to remind oneself about one's fortune.
I was a sophomore in high school when my family bought this piece of land. At dinner one night I informed my father I was going to go shoot with a friend the next day. Nonchalantly, he said we should go to this piece of land and take a look, just to see what I thought. He gave some vague directions and, of course, I couldn't find the place the following day. My dad just chuckled when I told him he sent me on a wild goose chase. The following weekend, he took me out there himself. A big berm had already been dozed into shape, a three sided affair and very tall. At the fifty and hundred yard locations, small raised mounds provided shooting positions. My dad, after years of shooting at my grandparents and on public lands, finally had a range of his own. I was the lucky beneficiary of the arrangement.
Twenty years now, I've been using this range. We used it quite a bit at first. Dad purchased some steel targets - ETs and Pepper Poppers. I learned a lot at a young age about practical shooting, but as time passed, the range fell into disuse. My dad relocated and wasn't able to come to the range near as often, I became discouraged with shooting because of a degenerative eye disease made seeing sights impossible, the rest of my family wasn't particularly interested. It fell into such a state of disrepair that the Pepper Poppers had been swallowed by the earth, completely buried under the soil. But it was always there when I really needed it. I spent a lot of days out there shooting just to get away from whatever unpleasantness I was feeling. The range provided what I needed: a little solitude, time to think, some steel targets to hammer away at, and a welcome reprise from whatever was bothering me.
Slowly, I came to the realization that the range was more than a place to go shoot, it is the most peaceful place in the world for me. Nothing bothered me there, it sheltered me, entertained me, gave me an alternative to doing other, more self-destructive things. I took a more active approach to the range. I dug up the the Pepper Poppers, fixed the ETs (which had taken a beating over the years) and started keeping better care of the grounds. Later, I added a gong, then another, then even more steel. Target holders. As the range got rebuilt, the situation happened to change where dad could spend more time out there. Eventually dad had a concrete pad poured at the hundred yard mark. I built a concrete shooting table a couple of years ago and this spring I put an awning over it.
Standing on top of the berm, much of this came flooding back to me. I'd kinda forgotten that there was a time when I didn't have the land to go to, or that I didn't care much about the place one way or the other. I forget about what a luxury it is to have your own range. So, standing there, I realized how thankful I am for my family and good fortune. The range, our range, truly is my little slice of paradise. Thank you Dad.
I was a sophomore in high school when my family bought this piece of land. At dinner one night I informed my father I was going to go shoot with a friend the next day. Nonchalantly, he said we should go to this piece of land and take a look, just to see what I thought. He gave some vague directions and, of course, I couldn't find the place the following day. My dad just chuckled when I told him he sent me on a wild goose chase. The following weekend, he took me out there himself. A big berm had already been dozed into shape, a three sided affair and very tall. At the fifty and hundred yard locations, small raised mounds provided shooting positions. My dad, after years of shooting at my grandparents and on public lands, finally had a range of his own. I was the lucky beneficiary of the arrangement.
Twenty years now, I've been using this range. We used it quite a bit at first. Dad purchased some steel targets - ETs and Pepper Poppers. I learned a lot at a young age about practical shooting, but as time passed, the range fell into disuse. My dad relocated and wasn't able to come to the range near as often, I became discouraged with shooting because of a degenerative eye disease made seeing sights impossible, the rest of my family wasn't particularly interested. It fell into such a state of disrepair that the Pepper Poppers had been swallowed by the earth, completely buried under the soil. But it was always there when I really needed it. I spent a lot of days out there shooting just to get away from whatever unpleasantness I was feeling. The range provided what I needed: a little solitude, time to think, some steel targets to hammer away at, and a welcome reprise from whatever was bothering me.
Slowly, I came to the realization that the range was more than a place to go shoot, it is the most peaceful place in the world for me. Nothing bothered me there, it sheltered me, entertained me, gave me an alternative to doing other, more self-destructive things. I took a more active approach to the range. I dug up the the Pepper Poppers, fixed the ETs (which had taken a beating over the years) and started keeping better care of the grounds. Later, I added a gong, then another, then even more steel. Target holders. As the range got rebuilt, the situation happened to change where dad could spend more time out there. Eventually dad had a concrete pad poured at the hundred yard mark. I built a concrete shooting table a couple of years ago and this spring I put an awning over it.
Standing on top of the berm, much of this came flooding back to me. I'd kinda forgotten that there was a time when I didn't have the land to go to, or that I didn't care much about the place one way or the other. I forget about what a luxury it is to have your own range. So, standing there, I realized how thankful I am for my family and good fortune. The range, our range, truly is my little slice of paradise. Thank you Dad.
