How Scott Satterlee saved me!

As I was cruising YouTube some months ago a video popped up about a guy named Scott Satterlee.
Seems he's developed a new and improved  method of load development.

Yea sure, I've been in the reloading game since 1977 and think I've seen it all. In the end you shoot, and shoot and shoot until you stumble into a combination of brass, primer, powder, powder charge, bullet and bullet seating depth that consistently shoots one hole groups.  Or maybe not...ever!

Lets get started.

1. REFER TO YOUR LOAD MANUAL!!! I SUGGEST YOU USE THE MANUAL FOR THE BULLET YOU ARE SHOOTING. IE. IF YOU ARE SHOOTING A BARNES BULLET USE THE BARNES DATA!!

2. Start with the Max load and reduce it by .2 or .3 grains until you have 10 loaded rounds. (Example: Max load is 45.5 grains for a particular bullet, your rounds should be loaded to 45.2, 44.9, 44.6, 44.3, etc.) set the overall length to the max your detachable magazine will allow or 20-30/1000's off lands.

3. Shoot the 10 rounds from lowest load to highest or until you see pressure signs. Record the velocity for each load. You can see the data in a list but an Excel graph shows it much better.

As seen on the graph, the node is the leveling off of the velocity even though the charge weight is increasing. In this case the node extends from 44 grains to 44.9 grains with 44.4-44.6 grains being the sweet spot.

Loading in this "Sweet Spot" should produce consistent velocity and groups. Next we will look at other powders and nodes.   Thanks for reading!

How Time Flies

When you are young you think you will never grow up. "When can I have my own phone, When can I drive?" are all questions we've heard from impatient youth.  As we get older time flies and we see that our time on Earth is not infinite. Last September my oldest son Kyle, grandson Luke and Grammy

had the opportunity to deer hunt with me in our ancestral deer camp. Having 3 generations around the campfire hasn't been done in our family since 1960, my Grandfather's last deer hunt. I was filled with a certain contentment sharing stories about my Dad and Grandfather with them as they never knew either.  

The last time Kyle and I deer hunted here was almost 20 years ago! A mission, college, med school, residency had filled his time. Sure we had hunted together but not here, not on the mountain we know so well. 

As I look at the pictures from that hunt I am filled with nostalgia.  Hopefully I have enough time left to hunt with all my family.

Things I miss

The older I get the more I understand longing for the "Good Ole Days" even if they weren't all that good!
I miss the smell of wisteria blooming and the giant bumble bees buzzing around.
I miss Iva's cooking, especially her Tamale Pie. Why cant I get the recipe to taste like hers?
I miss Clodia's Okie Chocolate Chip Cookies.  The stale smell of Al Heman's cigar. My Uncle Morrie's pipe, BLT's at 2am with Aunt Bobbie.

I miss the smell of VO5 blue on my Dad's pillow.  And I will always miss the ranch. the smell of cows and horses, hay and manure. They were the backbone of my youth. I miss the cattle.

I miss my youth...

Who is in the picture?

As I get older mortality starts to set in.

Not in the Gospel sense of "Where did I come from?  Why am I here? Where do I go after this life?", but what have we left behind?

I have a box of pictures left to me by my Grandmother Iva.  I don't know who most of the people in the pictures are. And if I do I barely remember them. So why do I keep them? Why don't I throw them out? After all, they were just people that I never really knew.

I cant, because they are my blood. They weren't perfect people, some weren't even good people, but they are my people.

When we die what do we leave behind? Some pictures, some nick knacks, a few friends that will soon follow us? Not much really. Some people are lucky enough to have a statue, street, park, or school named after them. But a generation later no one knows or cares who they were.

Isn't it funny how we leave a different legacy with different people. I have a friend who was telling me about his family. First he told me that his Grandfather was the mayor of a city for many years and that he was appointed to some very important government positions. In the next breath he told he he was not a good man according to his Mother.  Obviously, many people liked and trusted him or he wouldn't have been re-elected many times. Why did his daughter dislike him? Because of this, my friend had always assumed his Grandfather was not a good man.

Knowing his family well, I asked him a question. What are your recollections of your Father. He said he loved and respected him. Then I asked him what his siblings thought of their Father.  They saw him as an overbearing tyrant.  Wow, pretty different answers. His children will be told about the Father he had. Their cousins will be told about the Father their parents had.

My point being, history and family relationships are subjective. The winners of wars write the history. Everybody has a story about a family member.

As I look back on my life I see things I can be proud of and things I am not.  I did not have a storybook childhood. But a lot of people had it worse than me.  My Dad's four marriages were tough on me. Going to 7 different elementary schools gave me the ability to make friends fast (even if was only for a few months), to size people up and to adapt. It also meant I didn't have real friends until Jr. high and High school. A handful I still keep in contact with. I'm not complaining, I had a lot of advantages very few kids have. However, those advantages did not make up for the family turmoil. I am thankful for my Grandmother Iva and my aunt Bobby. They were the stability in my childhood. They were my real "Mothers" and I miss them dearly.

As with most people, I wish I could turn back the clock and do some things differently.  I often wish that I could go back, change a decision and watch my life in a movie and see how it turns out.  But we can't, we make decisions and we have to live with them.

This week we have 2 family events. First, my grandson Tate is getting Baptised. The next day our newest grand daughter Ella is being blessed.  Being a parent was hard. Being "Pa Pa" is easy! While your kids may remember you as a less than perfect parent, none of them ended up in jail or on drugs so I wasn't a total failure! Hopefully my Grand kids will remember me as their Pa Pa who loves them more than anything in the world. Who drives thousands of miles to be part of their life events, who cherishes their scrawling pictures and cards that cover the refrigerator. Why is this? Because they are what I leave behind in this life. And I want them to know who is in the picture.

Keeping Perspective

So many times in my life I get caught up in the moment. The smell of good BBQ for instance. It over whelms me, it controls my thoughts (like that bacon dog...gimme, gimme, gimme) it gives me tunnel vision!

Hey, that's not a bad thing...most of the time.

And then there are the times when I get really down. Like yesterday. Bad day at work, all the deals I've been working on for almost a year suddenly have huge hurdles. I didn't sleep last night, I sat on the couch and ran the various scenarios around in my head (talking to myself as usual) what if I do this? What if I do that? How can I make this deal work, etc. etc.

At 4 AM I finally gave up and walked around outside. It was just getting light. I am always inspired by Timp Peak. She is so majestic, no matter what comes. Always so solid and dependable, never changing. Then a light caught my eye. An alabaster spire shining in the coming light. A beacon as it were. I knew I needed to make a visit today.

I slept a couple of hours, got dressed and as I drove, I hoped I could gain some peace of mind, regain my perspective. As I pulled up, the parking lot was full! Cars were parked on the street! Whoa, there must have been

alot of folks walking around a 4 AM this morning!

I walked inside and immediately felt the serenity, the peace. As I walked out about an hour and a half later I had regained my perspective. I had solutions to my problems, I knew it would be a better day.

Best of Times, Worst of Times

Sometimes it seems that life just wears you down. No matter how hard you try, or what you do, nothing goes right. Its been said life is a test. A test of your physical, mental and emotional strength. And a test of your faith.

This may come as a surprise but I've learned something during this adventure of moving to a new state. Not knowing anyone, starting from ground zero.

When you are tested to your limits sometimes faith is all that keeps you going. Im not just talking about faith in God, but faith in yourself. What makes people pick themselves up and keep going?  I believe its faith.

If I can leave anything to my posterity it is this:

I have had successes, I have had failures. I have disappointed others, but no more so than I have disappointed myself.  But I can't conceive of quitting, of giving up, of uttering "I can't go on".

I believe in my children. Every one different, every one with a story all their own. And every one loved by me. Some have my laugh, Some my smile, most my contrary personality, but all faith in themselves.

I've seen you all get knocked down. Some by your own doing, some by life. I've cried for you, prayed for you and worried about you. But you have all kept faith in yourself and picked yourselves up and moved on to greater things. Education, marriage, family, career, serving others. No matter what the worst of times may be, as I look at the men and women my children have become... It is the Best of times

Family Traditions

Hopefully, every family creates their own family traditions. Some are annual vacations, charity events, bike rides, fishing trips, reunions etc. They are all good, they foster family ties, create memories and of course promote family tradition.

Growing up our tradition was deer hunting. Ask my sister Susie, recently she told me about her experience with Grandpa Gus deer hunting. It didn't stick with her, I don't think she has been back! But its a memory she hasn't forgotten in 50+ years!

My memories of my Grandfather are about deer hunting. He took me when I was 5. My Dad wounded a deer and went after it and we waited in the jeep. It was the start continuation of a tradition they had. How far back it went I don't know, but I'm glad someone started it.

Deer hunting was my Dad's only regularly scheduled vacation. 3-5 days in Southern Utah every October. The 3rd Sat to be exact. Kenny, Alex, Dallas, Ralph, Kenny David; the usual suspects.  I was always the kid, camp gofer. Everything from firewood to bartender.  Chief hunter too. By the time I was 16 and could hunt, the adults were more interested in playing gin rummy and drinking expensive scotch than hunting so I got to hunt alot!

I've tried to carry on the tradition with my kids. Some more successfully than others! 4 of the 5 have hunted with me, 3 of them have killed deer. I only hope as my grand kids get older, we can keep the tradition. Id like to see the 5th generation create more McClintock memories.

Thanks Gus, whenever I look at "Bessie" I think of that day 53 years ago.