Shotgun, bang, what’s up with that thang? Clay target shooting!

You don’t rate many of the places I visit or the activities I do, Jarrod, but I think I may have finally, FINALLY hit upon the holy grail and found something that will get a ‘yeah, alright, I’d go there’ verdict from you. Three words: Clay Target Shooting.

Three more words: So Much Fun!!

Like many Australians, I would wager, thanks to our gun control laws, I have never actually handled a gun. That sentence will probably elicit shocked gasps and/or sympathetic head shaking from Gun Lobbyists in the US; the kind of sympathy usually reserved for small children on commercials for famine relief. Someone having to walk 6 miles to a well for water? Meh. Not being about to just stroll into a Walmart to buy a gun?!? WHAT IS THIS UNFATHOMABLE SUFFERING? We need a telethon to raise aid money, stat! But I like our Aussie gun laws. Hey, it’s stressful enough worrying about a rogue tampon falling out of my handbag accidentally, let alone a Beretta.

I discover on line that Melbourne Gun Club runs regular ‘come and try clay target shooting’ sessions on a Saturday mornings and I am immediately intrigued. Mainly because, as I’ve previously mentioned, I keep wondering if there is some skill I possess, something that I’m preternaturally good at, a prodigious talent that has as yet, gone undiscovered. I just want to hear those fourteen special, little words that every girl wants to hear “seriously, you MUST have done this before, it can’t possibly be your first time?!”

The come and try sessions cost $60 per adult and $30 for children 12-17. You DO need to book on line in advance and all the information can be found on their website: www.melbournegunclub.com.au

I put out feelers to see if my friend Wendy might be interested in joining me for some shotgun fun. Her response is “Yes, definitely in, always curious about my dormant skills!”

Hmph.

Seems I’m not the only one nursing a secret hope that they have some untapped, latent abilities.

There’s some gentle ribbing between us about who’s going to be better as we approach the big day. On the surface it’s jovial and good natured but it’s loaded with competitive subtext and if I’m honest, I’m hoping she’s not going to feel too left out when I’m hoisted up onto the shoulders of the more experienced shooters and declared a genuine gold medal prospect for Rio 2016.

We arrive at the gun club in Yering about 30mins before the safety briefing and sign in. There’s time for a latte before we head outside, and first win of the day–the lattes are only $2.50. I’m blown away, but Wendy whispers quietly that I probably need to adjust my expectations and set the bar low, we’re not in an inner city cafe after all, but the coffees are really, really really good!! $2.50!!! God bless you, sport club canteens with your sport club canteen prices (tbh, I’m almost torn about revealing this because you know, you run the risk of hipsters inundating the place and ruining it for everyone).

We have a quick safety briefing from a lovely man named Jim, where we find (to my immense relief) that we won’t be putting the shotgun cartridges in the guns because we’re not licensed. A few other tips, and then we’re thrust outside to head to the cages and get started.

Wendy and I feel a bit dazed, surely there should be more instruction or assessment before you’re handed a great big gun with a functioning trigger? It feels like being handed a baby by someone who just assumes you know what you’re doing, when you don’t feel remotely ready for the responsibility. But we needn’t be fretting, we are going to be in totally safe hands with 1:1 supervision all morning. The instructors are all gentlemen in their fifties, early sixties and they are positively delightful and unfailingly patient and encouraging. I literally cannot speak highly enough of them.

The first cage we head to is the easiest, the skeets (bright orange clay disc targets) get flung upwards from a trap in the ground and more or less lob up slowly, hover in the air for a moment and drop back down. Wendy, resplendent in plaid pants, (classic English hunter garb) is the first of the group to put up her hand and she steps up to the front of the cage. They talk her through how to grip the gun, how to line up the skeet looking down the length of the barrel, and it’s time.

Ready, aim…..

She calls ‘Pull!’ confidently, and the skeet pings up. She’s steely, steelier than I have ever seen her in the eighteen odd years that we’ve been friends. She patiently lines it up, exhales, fires the gun and the skeet explodes into pieces mid air.

FIRE

FIRST GO! I can’t help it, I break into spontaneous, rapturous, (probably disproportionate) applause and the two instructors at the cage seem pretty chuffed as well. First time fluke? She lines up for her second shot – smashes it to smithereens. Two for two. We briefly wonder if the skeets are rigged with little explosives that self detonate just to save our feelings, but we’re assured by the instructors this isn’t the case. Now on a hat trick, she lines up again. Pull! Crack. The skeet is obliterated. I’m literally beside myself with excitement, my friend is a complete clay target shooting prodigy. Possibly the love child of Charlton Heston. Who knows?

She winds up getting all five out of five shots. Amazing. I’m applauding, and frankly wondering why the rest of the ‘come and try’ gang who are waiting at our station are not doing the same. Have they no appreciation of the sheer brilliance they’re witnessing?

We watch a few of the others as they have their turn, most get 2 out of 5 at best. Wendy and I applaud every hit, honestly, we can’t be bothered feigning cool indifference. Novice excitement wins out every time, it is just so exciting watching someone who’s a beginner, just like us, line up, shoot and smash a skeet to pieces.

Just praying I won’t be bowled over backwards by the kickback

Then it’s my turn. I’m talked through how to grip and what to do, and to really be sure I pull the gun right back into my shoulder to minimise the kickback. The cartridge is loaded into the gun and I line up my eye. Any hopes that I’d intuitively know what to do are dashed. I am unbelievably nervous. I call ‘pull’ very tremulously and practically pull the trigger simultaneously, and the kickback of the gun takes me by surprise even though I was fully anticipating it. Seriously! How do these guys shoot all the time and endure that? Do they develop a great bloody callus on the front of their right shoulder that’s verging on steel armour? I’m half tempted to punch one of them on their pecs just to see. The instructors very diplomatically tell me that I ‘went a little quick’ and laugh about my trigger finger and it’s time for a second go. I manage to at least let the skeet become airborne this time, but miss again. With some encouragement and instruction I eventually wind up getting two out of five.

We have another go at the next cage with another instructor and I fare about the same, Wendy I think gets about three out of five. Maybe it’s the plaid pants, she looks the part therefore she is? Perhaps I should have paid more attention to my outfit and worn something more shooter-ly?

The gun is an extension of herself.

Next up is the more difficult station where you get eight shots in all. First up the skeet gets shot out of a tall station behind you, so it more or less flies horizontally away from you. After that, they shoot out of a chute over on your right and it flies from right to left, so you have to trace its flight path with the gun and shoot. There’s a bit of a line for this one so we get to watch around eight or nine people before we’re up. And most people aren’t faring too well. Barely anyone gets the skeet flying away from them, and at best, a handful get one out of four of the ‘pinging right to left’ ones. Wendy and I continue to cheer every successful hit, the other come and try people remain weirdly muted. We agree that we’re just going to lower our expectations on this one and not anticipate getting any of skeets so whatever we do get will be a bonus.

I’m up first. I call pull, the skeet flies above me and away, I wait, wait, line it up and shoot and it positively explodes. Got it! Wendy cheers–after all nobody else has gotten any of those ones while we were spectating. I line up again, and believe it or not, I wind up getting four out of four!!! It’s exhilarating. I’m jubilant and a little disturbed at the same time. (Was I a weirdo hunter in a past life who only liked shooting things that were fleeing from me?). Right to left ones next, and I get three out of four. Bang, bang, bang, then wah, wah, wah, wah…anticlimactic cave on the pressure of possibly getting 100%

Did someone say ‘my time to shine?’

Wendy has her turn next but this format where the skeets are fleeing rather than hovering just isn’t her thing and her strike rate falls away.

Showed early promise, but fell away in the later stages

We go back for another couple of turns at the easier cage but she declares her mojo has been lost, and I’m soon at the point where my right shoulder is becoming kickback sore and I can feel a bruise blossoming under the skin. Lethal, delicate little flower that I am.

Shooter McKenzie

All in all we get about twenty five shots in over the 90 minutes that we’re there, and honestly, that was probably all my little right shoulder could have handled. Just as we’re finishing up we notice people parachuting down in the distance, possibly to land at the nearby airport? They’re obviously (hopefully!) out of firing range but it does make us instinctively uneasy watching people firing guns in their direction as they float downwards.

Trigger happy

We had a cracking time at come and try clay target shooting, and I’ve been recommending it to anyone who’ll listen. It is just absolutely great fun and you feel positively triumphant when you hit a skeet as a beginner. Added bonus, you’re within spitting distance of all the great Yarra Valley wineries, so you can go and sit over a glass of chardonnay and a plate of antipasto while you relive it all.

Not the worst spot to sit and rehash the morning’s events…

So sure, you might end up with a shoulder that looks like this-

I bruise like a peach. Like a veritable peach.

but despite that, clay target shooting: Jarrod, would you go there?