We have a preliminary series of three CMP Matches today. I am in the second of the three relays; being a novice in Bullseye I have been squadded with the lower graded shooters but have to compete in Master Grade. It turns out this day is not just a warm up for the shooters but the range itself. I arrive half an hour before my squadded time to find the first detail has just started shooting. They have had a ninety minute delay while the targets have refused to turn on demand. We float about as rumours abound that we are to move to a spare range to the left. After an hour of sitting around in the stifling heat we are finally given the order to set up on the substitute range.
My zero on both the 22 and 32 is out by eight to ten clicks. I have no idea why. After three or four shots I find the centre of the target but have lost too many points by this time to think about a competitive score. I am starting to get used to the range commands and now have the timing worked out to be ready for the facing targets in sustained and rapid fire. My 25 yard targets are quite respectable with the 22 and 32, but the 45 is something else. Lucky for me it only takes four or five shots to find the correct sight setting at 50 yards, but I'm totally unfamiliar with the grip angle, trigger weight and recoil of the thing. The rapid series is wild; I now have the utmost respect for these guys who can hold such a tight group with a monster like a 45. One thing I know for certain; I'm nowhere near ready to attempt a hardball match.
The 45 malfunctions twice so I lose a couple of shots in Rapid. This is not an issue, as I have murdered my score well before this, but I resolve to see if I can prevent a repeat performance in the match proper. Will strips it and gives it a thorough clean, finding nothing wrong. As it later turns out this is enough to get me through with no further problems.
For dinner tonight we return to John's favourite haunt, Cisco's. We manage to knock off a few jugs of Margaritas, but with no further adventure.
This is the first day of serious competition. Today we shoot the 22 match. As yesterday I'm squadded second of the three details. Again my zero is out for the first few shots at 50 yards. There is something weird about shooting outdoors with no shelter. The conditions seem exactly the same from day to day (damn hot!). Wind direction varies slightly, but I'm not fanciful enough to think this could make a difference of four to five inches at 50 yards. Despite this initial setback I am only mildly competitive anyway. The second target is good, but I am not consistent enough to worry the front runners.
Timed fire is not flash either. If I shot those groups in Standard Pistol I'd be keeping company with C Graders on a bad day. The final result is an 847/900, almost 10 points below a Master Grade score. I can kid myself in saying it's a good score for a first attempt, but I know I am capable of much better. Top score of the day is 887, with a pile of shooters in the early 880s.
Having a free afternoon I borrow a Hammerli 480K from Larry Carter to shoot some air pistol. I've never shot this model before, so I enter one of the 20 shot re-entry matches to become acquainted with it before committing to the "real thing", the Grand Prix. I book in to shoot this tomorrow.
By the time I finish my friends from Rhode Island have already left for dinner. Larry and his daughter are heading out to Put-In Bay, a resort town on South Bass Island a few miles out on Lake Erie, and offer to take me along. When we arrive at the terminal we just miss a ferry and have a lengthy wait until the next one leaves. The trip takes around half an hour on a high powered cat. We will have about two and a half hours to wander about before the last boat returns at midnight.
Put-In Bay is remarkably active. It seems to be full of bars and happy tourists. Night has fallen and we are unable to hire a golf cart this late. This is a little inconvenient as Larry has twisted his ankle and is hobbling somewhat. Luckily we manage to get to Perry's Monument just prior to its closing. Built early this century it is an impressive tower that commemorates Commodore Perry's victory in the War of 1812. We ride to the top in a primitive elevator to a breathtaking view from the top. Despite the summer haze the lights of Canada are visible to the north.
Back in town we find a sit down meal and wander throughout the main street and pier. I sample a root beer float near the boats and witness the murder of some formerly good songs by a performer in a bar near the boat harbour. Perhaps the proprietor had one too many before agreeing to hire him. Perhaps he is the proprietor. Whoever wrote the lyrics "Rock & Roll Ain't Noise Pollution" never heard this guy in action.
As midnight approaches we take our place in line for the ferry. I'd hate to miss the boat as I'm on early in the morning. A gaggle of holidaymakers and drunks join the queue, and at this point I'm amazed at how well behaved they are despite the obvious effects of the booze. One guy is so sick he's standing in a comatose state, leaning on his girlfriend, who is holding a large pitcher in front of him just in case. His friends give him all sorts of encouragement, but it's all good natured. I can't help but wonder how Australians would be behaving in these same conditions, but I'm afraid the yob factor would kick in. Fact is, I've never seen such well behaved drunks.
Being in the first detail I have no wind or heat excuses for shooting like a mug. I repeat most of the mistakes from yesterday, along with a few new ones, just to prove it was no fluke. An 836 with occasional signs of shooting groups in the timed fire. I'm starting to enjoy myself and get to know my next door neighbour. Since I'm scoring his target it's hard not to be sociable. His name is Joe and he's from North Carolina. Like most shooters on the line he uses his 45 for both the Centre Fire and the 45 matches. I have enough trouble controlling my poncey 32 in the Rapid Fire stage.
Back in the air pistol range I shoot my full match for the Grand Prix. My fortunes are mixed, I shoot some good and some bad, to end with a typical "average" score of 562/600. Not likely to be a match winner, but respectable. The 97 to finish means if I tie I will likely win a place on countback. The heat in the air range is equal to anything I have experienced in Australia. I never realised a place that gets so cold in winter could get this hot in summer.
There is a full scale storm brewing from the north west. The sky looks ominous, and some are retelling stories of a twister that touched down a few years back close to the range. You only have to see the damage from Perry's last brush with a tornado to see it would be not much fun. But by the time we have left for dinner it appears to have either blown itself out or gone around us.
For dinner our group heads for a Chinese restaurant in Port Clinton. Being Saturday night they are swamped with patrons. As a result there are mixups in our orders and quite lengthy delays in being served. Nothing unusual for an Australian, but my friends are not impressed. Eventually we are fed, but some of the party are far from gruntled, and make their feelings known. We are offered a discount and extensive apologies.
Every day I learn something in America. Today I learn that unless you are still quite hungry it is unwise to order a "medium" ice cream cone. I try hard but in the end it beats me and I have to dump half of it.
Back at the modules we enjoy the last of the daylight outside. With daylight saving it is still light well after 9pm. I swing at a flying insect that out of the corner of my eye appears to be a mosquito. John remarks that he has never seen a fluorescent green firefly before, as I realise to my horror I have just swatted it into the footpath. The first firefly I encounter and I have to kill it! I witness its strange light fading in the gravel. Maybe it's an irradiated bug from the nuclear power station just down the road.
This is my last day of shooting. I have a late detail, the mid afternoon squad. To help fill in time I borrow Bill's Steyr LP1 and head for the air range to shoot another re-entry 20 shot match. Something clicks as I shoot a 97 with a 7 in the first ten shots. To cap a successful session I drill an almost perfect 10 in the one-shot match, which ends up being the closest to the centre (as I find out several months later), 0.35mm from dead centre.
With no great expectations I shoot the 45 match. As I expect the timed fire gets away from me a little. I fail to break 800, but am not too displeased with some of my groups. In the 2700 match I am placed 79th out of 97 Master grade civilian shooters, with 2473 - 58X. Something to improve on next year.
For our last night we go to The Porterhouse for dinner. John is more circumspect about accepting drinks by now, and takes his ribbing well. I'm just getting used to the strange American custom of being served a salad before a steak. Australians tend to get the entire main course piled on one plate. Steaks also have differing names; the porterhouse in America is a T-bone in Australia, while our porterhouse has no bone attached. All this aside, the meal and company are great.