Gower Ranger
VIP Member
I had a two day comp this weekend, a qualifier match for the PR22 world championship in Italy this summer. I'm not really in the running but having got through the regional stages it seemed like a good excuse for a weekend of fun.
The comp had been rescheduled from 2 weeks ago, when it was cancelled due to snow blocking access to the remote range. The forecast looked a tad blowy and temps dropping to 0degC on the sunday; not good standing around on a Welsh Hill weather.
I had planned to drive up and back each day but it was 2hr45mins each way and the clocks going forward meant an even earlier start for the drive on the Sunday am.
So I decided to camp in the car. Basics only- sleep mat, sleeping bag, fake jet boil, beer. I also had all my shooting kit so needed to keep things compact.
On arriving at the range, I tried to find a nearly flat verge to park up on.
This was my neighbour:
The Saturday matches were indeed tricky in the wind but we had spells of sunshine between squalls of rain:
The stage below proved particularly unpopular- shoot off the peg, which you have to move to a new, angled hole every two shots (1st shot near, 2nd shot far). Much swearing at the peg board, of which more, later...
We finished Saturday's matches at about 5pm and I already knew I was an also-ran after losing two whole stages to a mechanical problem (that I now know how to fix.) Accordingly, when offered a beer by some fellow shooters camping in the field we'd shot from, I eagerly accepted, thinking I'd take my rifle, pack and tripod back to the car (across a valley) straight after...
Predictably enough, this did not happen. The beer flowed. The BBQ was lit. A vast quantity of meat was consumed. A lot of bollocks was talked.
It was pretty cold by then so we lit a fire, using scrap ply from old target boards, scavenged by drunk campers scouting around.
After more beers the much-loathed peg-board was ceremonially burned.
The fire eventually burned down and I realised it was well past DST midnight and I had yet to lug my sodden gear across steep, muddy terrain to the car. Despite the fire, I was cold and wet so called it a night.
I staggered to bed, trying to minimise the transfer of mud and moisture to my bedding as I clumsily folded the rear seats and unpacked.
It was pretty tight in there, with all my kit, but the booze was doing a good job of making me feel rather cozy. I managed to set the car's "camp mode" to 18degC before dozing off.
The secondhand beer woke me shortly after dawn but I managed to get back to sleep after finally giving in to its demands.
Later I awoke in a disorientated state. Unusually for me, I was in a fetal position but for some reason I couldn't straighten out; I had slid under the parcel shelf was in the boot like some mafia hit victim. The incline of the folded rear seats, along with my drunken fidgetting and a slippery sleeping bag/mat had conspired to decant me there:
Stiff and hungover I forced myself to get up in time for the comp. Made coffee and ate tinned beans with sausages.
Hurriedly got my kit together, loaded-up and trudged back towards the range, through dense fog.
It dawned on me that no one else seemed to be around apart from a few campers who'd stayed in that field instead of retreating to lower a camping spit lower down the hilI. They explained that shooting was postponed due to the visibility and the situation would be reassessed in 2 hrs.
I trudged back to the car to wait.
The low cloud didn't lift in time and the Sunday stages were cancelled, which was something of a relief as it was still only 3degC at 11am and the wind chill was grim.
I'm now tucked up in bed and feeling almost human.
With a bit more planning and a tarp rigged to shelter the doors on one side, this car-camping could be quite pleasant
The comp had been rescheduled from 2 weeks ago, when it was cancelled due to snow blocking access to the remote range. The forecast looked a tad blowy and temps dropping to 0degC on the sunday; not good standing around on a Welsh Hill weather.
I had planned to drive up and back each day but it was 2hr45mins each way and the clocks going forward meant an even earlier start for the drive on the Sunday am.
So I decided to camp in the car. Basics only- sleep mat, sleeping bag, fake jet boil, beer. I also had all my shooting kit so needed to keep things compact.
On arriving at the range, I tried to find a nearly flat verge to park up on.
This was my neighbour:
The Saturday matches were indeed tricky in the wind but we had spells of sunshine between squalls of rain:
The stage below proved particularly unpopular- shoot off the peg, which you have to move to a new, angled hole every two shots (1st shot near, 2nd shot far). Much swearing at the peg board, of which more, later...
We finished Saturday's matches at about 5pm and I already knew I was an also-ran after losing two whole stages to a mechanical problem (that I now know how to fix.) Accordingly, when offered a beer by some fellow shooters camping in the field we'd shot from, I eagerly accepted, thinking I'd take my rifle, pack and tripod back to the car (across a valley) straight after...
Predictably enough, this did not happen. The beer flowed. The BBQ was lit. A vast quantity of meat was consumed. A lot of bollocks was talked.
It was pretty cold by then so we lit a fire, using scrap ply from old target boards, scavenged by drunk campers scouting around.
After more beers the much-loathed peg-board was ceremonially burned.
The fire eventually burned down and I realised it was well past DST midnight and I had yet to lug my sodden gear across steep, muddy terrain to the car. Despite the fire, I was cold and wet so called it a night.
I staggered to bed, trying to minimise the transfer of mud and moisture to my bedding as I clumsily folded the rear seats and unpacked.
It was pretty tight in there, with all my kit, but the booze was doing a good job of making me feel rather cozy. I managed to set the car's "camp mode" to 18degC before dozing off.
The secondhand beer woke me shortly after dawn but I managed to get back to sleep after finally giving in to its demands.
Later I awoke in a disorientated state. Unusually for me, I was in a fetal position but for some reason I couldn't straighten out; I had slid under the parcel shelf was in the boot like some mafia hit victim. The incline of the folded rear seats, along with my drunken fidgetting and a slippery sleeping bag/mat had conspired to decant me there:
Stiff and hungover I forced myself to get up in time for the comp. Made coffee and ate tinned beans with sausages.
Hurriedly got my kit together, loaded-up and trudged back towards the range, through dense fog.
It dawned on me that no one else seemed to be around apart from a few campers who'd stayed in that field instead of retreating to lower a camping spit lower down the hilI. They explained that shooting was postponed due to the visibility and the situation would be reassessed in 2 hrs.
I trudged back to the car to wait.
The low cloud didn't lift in time and the Sunday stages were cancelled, which was something of a relief as it was still only 3degC at 11am and the wind chill was grim.
I'm now tucked up in bed and feeling almost human.
With a bit more planning and a tarp rigged to shelter the doors on one side, this car-camping could be quite pleasant
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