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**YALE** · 02-12-2011, 02:33 PM

Originally posted by John Millar

I chose a Jones style under lever, back action, hammer double to base my rifle on. This is the most elegant of all the big doubles and the only style that lends itself to the 8 and 4-Bore’s mass, while still allowing the receiver and pistol grip area to be humanly graspable, and does away with that painful top lever and the certainty of a shattered collar bone from the recoil if your hammerless model ever doubled! I have seen it happen twice personally with lesser calibres. Besides, as it was written years ago, “A gun without hammers looks as plain as a hunting dog with no ears”, I would take this one step further. I decided now as I had made up so much tooling to machine the rifled blanks and hold and join them together, a second set of smooth barrels would be made up as well as a set of locks. All this would be cased along with a set of ivory handled cleaning and loading tools.

After 20 years working in the gold mining areas of the Canadian sub-arctic regions, where Mastadons are occasionally unearthed from the permanent frost yielding some beautiful workable pieces of ivory, which I had been saving up for just such a special day. Now with four years and over 1000 hours and four trips to the Las Vegas gunshows behind me, I had finally shown my little pile of photos to the right person, who opened his gun room doors to me and just at the right time, as all the pieces were ready for final contouring. I think that the first time anyone fires one of these big rifles, that moment is embedded permanently in one’s memory cells. I know that I still can recall that day I carried all these assembled, painstakingly made pieces outside, and held it up to my shoulder and made the hammer fall on 400 grains of Goex FG and a 1850 grain hard lead round nose bullet. It was October 1989 and it worked. I went back two and half steps, turned half-way around and the barrels pointed towards the sky. As I waited for the cloud of smoke to drift over to reveal the target, I remember thinking “That was great”. I fired several careful shots that day in October to get a grouping. The bullets crossed at 50 yards so a little unsoldering and wedging was the order of the day - but beginner’s luck stayed with me, and only this one regulating adjustment was needed to put them in the black.

And Lou said, “What will that thing do at 100 metres!”

Originally posted by John Millar

Now it was January ’96, and another turning point in the 4-Bore saga. At the SCI show in Reno, I met Campbell Smith, South African PH with North Western Safaris. He had already heard the stories of this guy on North that’s building a 4-Bore from a mutual friend, D’Arcy Echols, a respected U.S. gun-maker. Campbell has such a way with words when he said, “Why don’t you bring that thing to Africa and go after elephant with me?” And I said “Wouldn’t I love to - but I can give you 20 000 reasons why it won’t happen and they all have little US$ signs in front”. Campbell said “Sit down, have I got a deal for you? Would you like to hunt elephant with that big rifle you built? Do you care about ivory?” I answered, yes, to question one and no to question two (at that time I had several hundred pounds of ivory in my garage - prehistoric type). But I sure wanted some elephant hunting memories. He explained that he had a tuskless permit for Zimbabwe and an opening for a hunt, September 1998. It was a done deal and I didn’t have to sell my first born to finance it. She would come along and be the film crew and cheering section. That was the good part about having a Dad that takes ten years to build a gun - you can be a little kid when he tests the barrels in the yard, and an adult when it’s Safari time. As I left Campbell’s booth, I remember him saying “Make sure you do a proper job of putting that gun together and we’ll have some fun”. These words haunted me over the next year and half. Now it was a rifle to hunt dangerous game in Africa with, not a plaything to show friends and shoot at the range once a year. There was a deadline now, and a lot of finishing work to do on the gun itself, and shooting and sights to check.

**YALE** · 02-12-2011, 02:35 PM

Originally posted by John Millar

I finally finished the final polish and double checked and boxed the pieces to go across the whole of Canada. The metal to Heidi Hiptmayer for engraving and gold lettering and the stock-wood to Ted Girodat for a traditional 1880’s checkering pattern. Ted also volunteered to rust-blue the 16lb barrel and baby-sit all the finished engraved metal work to a commercial heat-treater with a vacuum atmosphere controlled process furnace which would enable me to give the gun an old look whilst still having the right heat treatment. The clock was ticking when all the pieces were finally re-assembled into the finished rifle. Now a lot of shooting and walking, and shooting and more walking, was the routine of the day. With approximately 60 rounds fired at the range, I decided on some major changes in powder and bullet loadings. I had three concerns; the legality of shipping black powder loaded ammo even though the rules stated 5kg sporting ammo; reduce the felt recoil a bit so a second shot would be a viable option; and re-design the bullet to cut a clean hole and maybe step up the velocity. The obvious solution: nitro loads, and I had this information on file. But I guess I really am a man of the 90’s - but it’s the 1890’s. The Nitro Load's pretty peppy, but I missed the smoke and they felt different! So along came Pyrodex Select.

The bullet mould was recut to add another grease groove and a sharp shoulder at the nose radius to make it a dual dia style. Now to centre in the rifling and the added shoulder made the bullets cut clean in wood and paper (and buffalo hide as we found out). The new combo was lubed with SPG and the fouling wiped out easily. A new batch of brass cases were machined out with a slightly different interior profile and cut to accept shotgun primers to give the handful of Pyrodex a good spark. These eleventh-hour changes produced a winner. They grouped well, they smelled and looked good when fired, they met transportation legalities, a slight bit of the concussion was gone from the 400 grains of black, and velocity was up approximately 100 fps to well over 1400 now. The next item to direct our attention towards was a way to carry this great heavy thing. It became obvious on the first hike - you can’t carry a 24lb rifle on a sling, as it gives new meaning to the phrase “Cuts off the Circulation”. Also both hands needed to be free for glassing game or crawling and stalking. All difficult to do with a heavy object dangling off one shoulder. A shoulder harness and belt arrangement seemed the way to go, and after a few quick designs, one was settled on and cut out of leather. The rifle was attached to the harness with those plastic quick release buckles found on back packs. They worked well, were quiet and could be released easily without having to take your eyes off the game. The rifle loaded and four rounds in the pouch with the weight of the harness totalled 31 lbs. It worked well in the African bush, carrying the gun in close to my body and distributing the weight well off both shoulders.

Originally posted by John Millar

Everything was together now and even the weather co-operated, with the whole last month over 100 Degrees Fahrenheit every day. Just perfect for a two-hour hike up the mountain in full gear - mid afternoon - to get toughened up and fire a few shots each day at the target I had hidden in the deep forest where I could simulate actual hunting conditions: into the sunlight, through shadows or with the target board hidden partially behind branches. These outings were also valuable to check out the rigging - to find out my favourite shirt’s pocket is too small to accept my compact binoculars or that one pair of shorts had an annoying little flap that hooked the rifle swivel every time I turn around. Hundred break-in miles feels good on your new hunting boots when you leap out of the Land Cruiser for a little hike through the thorns. Your boots are one of the areas that your PH’s eyes go to on your first meeting and you can hear a small sigh of relief when he sees that they had been out of the box prior to this moment. The August 28 departure was now at hand, and I released my sweaty grip from the big gun case to let it register on the scales at the local airport at 34kg. Well under the 35kg-limit!

Article continues below.

I hope the system did work and that the big black Pelican case would meet me two days later in Jo’burg. I had chosen to fly British Air, so Tracy could join me at Heathrow for the flight to Africa together. The ladies in the British Air booth at the SCI show had assured me that problems in the past with guns flying through Heathrow were just that, “Problems in the past”. We flew out in the evening and even though it is a long flight, after not seeing each other for nearly a year (as my daughter is now in Edinburgh) the night passed so quickly and the sun came up just as we broke free of the cloud cover and illuminated Zimbabwe and Lake Kariba and the Zambezi Valley on our way to Jo’burg. Jo’burg airport was uncrowded and ALL our baggage had made it. A quick stop at the customs counter and then a helpful agent filled out the necessary gun permits - the rubber stamp made a big thump and we were out through the doors to be greeted by a big smile and a hand shake, as PH Campbell had come to collect us and get us pointed towards Zimbabwe.

We had flown to Africa three days earlier than our departure day to Zimbabwe, just to allow for any baggage to catch up or the ill effects of jet lag to pass. We therefore spent the time game viewing and enjoying South African hospitality at its finest.

**YALE** · 02-12-2011, 05:23 PM

The author, his daughter, the 4 bore, and a buffalo.

Originally posted by John Millar

The brief flight from the Falls to camp at a lower height gave us good view of that special area that we were to share with the creatures. A low-level pass over our bush strip scared off a warthog family that were just putting the finishing touches to an excavation. After 25 years working and flying into remote bush strips in the Canadian North, this would be the first time I had helped heap thorn bushes around a plane to keep the hyenas from chewing the tires off. Moments after touch down a plume of dust appeared heading our way, and out of it came a Land Cruiser, and Pete Waddelow, our Zimbabwean P.H.

Back at camp, we were greeted by Pete’s wife Charis and shown to our traditional stone and thatched roof cottage. Tracy and I were caught right in the middle of a severe daydream - standing on our door step, when the lunch drum sounded and snapped us back to reality - we were really here! It was decided that the shooting range be first priority after lunch. Interest was rising now amongst the PHs, Campbell had seen and handled the big double in Joburg. Pete hadn’t seen it yet and neither one had been in attendance when the hammer fell on one of the giant cartriges. At the range, the eyes opened wide as the 4-bore was pulled from its case and there were hoots of delight as it was passed around so all could heft the 24 lb gun and sight the three-inch wide barrels. Everyone was happy except Robso (the gun bearer)! But as it worked out, the training back home and the shoulder harness were a success, and Robso was only called on to pack it for a few minutes one morning when I left the vehicle with the .375 in hot pursuit of jaws, the warthog or maybe it was a bushbuck or zebra.

Anyway, a few minutes into the grass we were amongst the big guys and Pete put out the word to bring the cannon to the front. Besides I hadn’t spent ten years building this gun to share the fun of packing it in the African bush. But right now they wanted to see this thing go off - and see if I could hit anything with it. Then they would be able to draw up a hunt strategy based on my upcoming performance - talk about pre-hunt stress. A quick introduction to the “sticks” that most African of shooting supports. Then that gentle push on my shoulder - two steps back, a big cloud of smoke, the twin tubes pointing upwards. I could hear the laughs and hoots from the cheering section behind - the crew had enjoyed it too. I will admit I couldn’t quite focus on the target yet but they all seemed pleased. When the gang had all assembled to the rear again, I dropped in another quarter pounder and sent it down range - just to show them that I would pull off a second or back up shot if called upon to do so - in the same afternoon.

Now with the ice broken and nothing else - thank goodness - the mood was more relaxed. Pete and Campbell had read the stories of the old days and how they had hunted from horse back with these guns. Now they had a whole new respect for their predecessors and I know they said a big silent thank you to the guy that invented smokeless powder, 470’s and 11 lb rifles. Then the question was asked “When do you think someone used these guns last?”. None of us could answer this, but we all knew when one would be used next and where - Matetsi Unit One and real soon! Officially the hunt didn’t start till 6am tomorrow, but we had sun and sand, a tank of gas - all we needed were some tracks. And these appeared only minutes down the road from the range. Those first few hours made it very clear - this was going to be no walk-in-the-park, fish-in-a-barrel experience as so many hunters and non-hunters alike think back home. Yes there was an abundance of game but also a lack of foliage as we were at the end of the dry season. We could see them - but they could see us better and hear us and smell us a mile away. It was going to be fun!

The official day one - found us wide awake long before the 5.15am wake up knock on the door. Breakfast was a blur and we were off to the Land Cruiser, hoping we hadn’t forgotten something in the pre-dawn dimness. Then we got an eye opener! It’s b%$#y freezing at 6am in the back of the Toyota as all the Zimbabwe night air rushed over our goose pimply white skin. But we’re tough, we live in the Great White North. We did however accept the wool blankets that were offered to us by the crew - we didn’t want to offend! Everything was new to us, so, we sat quietly to let the day’s hunting routine unfold and try to get an idea of how it’s done over here.

Since elephant was priority number one and not just an elephant - it needed to be a tuskless adult male. The Government permit read “No Ivory showing below the lip!” A very vague statement - but are not most government writings? It matters little which side of the ocean one is on. This permit made no reference to gender, so females were legal game as were smaller bulls. But there were problems obtaining a CITES export permit for female parts - so they were to be avoided.Campbell and Pete both pointed out to me that finding a toothless bull in the right spot at the right time would probably be more difficult than getting the bead on its big brother that had his teeth. Even though a big bull with both tusks snapped off had been seen in the area three weeks before. Sounded good to me! I’d come to hunt and that’s exactly what we would be doing. Hunting elephant and for sure getting some other wonderful trophies in doing so. So here we were already into the second hour of day one and all we had seen were bushbuck, impala, zebra, giraffe and momma warthog and young ones.

**YALE** · 02-12-2011, 05:29 PM

Originally posted by John Millar

The Toyota halted at the edge of a trammelled section of sand and thorn bush and it was suggested that we “Go have a look”. Lots of tracks, the day not too warm yet, a nice even breeze starting up and not a particularly rocky, thorny, nasty spot to break in a rooky elephant hunter. I know they just wanted to see if I could pack the cannon further than from the car to the shooting bench. Also they needed to see the kid’s and my reaction to being at close quarters with jumbo, and our reaction time to the freeze, don’t even blink or scratch, hand signal. As we approached the vehicle later that morning, we were still in awe over our first stalk in an elephant herd. I had read all the stories and heard the talk, but it took nothing away from that moment. We had gone back to the beginning of time when man was an honourable creature and part of it all. On the drive to locate the next set of fresh tracks, our conversation went like “Dad, you see the big one behind the tree or the cow with the little guy?”

Loaded rifle + ammo pouch = 31lbs. Yikes!

Originally posted by John Millar

One thing that totally amazed us was how a herd of the largest animals on earth could vanish into what appeared to be the most barren of vegetation, when they were only 30 to 40 yards away when you blinked! We had our first tea break when we stopped at the next fresh tracks only a short distance from the last “fresh tracks”. I heard the P.H.’s say “better let them have a drink and something to eat, before we head out after these buffalo!” Africa gives a special meaning to “diverse game” as we would experience in the next two weeks. The unexpected became the norm. Look for elephant, see buffalo, connected with a super kudu. Now at 10 o’clock it was 85 degrees, it seemed hard to believe that the woolly blankets were part of the uniform of the day just hours before. I noted that they were folded neatly in the back within easy reach - could it be that we would reach for them again at six, the other six, the one when the big red sun drops out of clear sky. After tea, the buffalo showed us how fast they can go through the thorns and I learned how many scratches you can put on a square inch of skin. As we drove in for lunch that first day, I noted the empty 35mm film canister rolling about in the camera box - in later days we would laugh about how much film we used on those first couple of outings - we took pictures of everything and a lot of out of sight things, did we think the game would go away or could we just have been a bit excited.

After lunch we observed the warmer places on earth’s siesta ritual (we miss out on so much in the Great White North). At a little past two, the drummer called us for tea and cookies and we were off to a completely different part of Matetsi Unit One leaving behind the forested, more rolling countryside for open grassy plains and dried up water courses. I really enjoyed the trips out in the afternoon’s 95 degrees warm breezes and clear skies. I’m really a warm places kind a guy. Not only born in the wrong century, born on the wrong continent too! It was from this afternoon stupor that I noticed the Land Cruiser halt abruptly and heard Campbell say “John - .375 - HOG” and noticed he had the sticks and was already into the bush.

A 100 yard dash, a 100 yard bent down sneak, then I noticed Campbell plant the sticks revealed I had been searching the grass about 200 yards too near. There he was, actually an erect tail was all I could see and it did stop on the horizon for two and half seconds. I will admit I did want a warthog but thought oh, I’ll get one of them on a slow day - we’ll do the tricky stuff first - wrong again! We must have seen at least two dozen of the ugly porkers and made a try on at least four tuskers. I even got the 4-bore’s sights on one for a fraction of a second and as Tracy commented after, “That would have been something to see a `pig’ getting hit with that!” The sun was just over the tree tops and heading towards the horizon as we climbed back on the Land Cruiser to make a quick run to the far boundary of Unit One to check on elephant movements so we could make a plan for tomorrow’s attack. Tracy made a comparison later in the week, “That was like a big chess game and someone moved all the pieces at night and we spent all day trying to sort it all out again only to have it all happen again after dark”. As we neared the boundary the sun left us behind. Just as a herd of approximately 175 elephant started to move out of the bush area and march single file across a huge open grassy plain. We all sat there in silence even after it was too dark to make out their huge shapes passing before us. That evening after supper I found myself checking my eyelids for holes about half way through story time - it was that time of day. We had had a big day and now we knew the routine and what to expect. To expect the unexpected around every bend in the road or behind each thorn bush that’s what!

Hunt Day Two would begin the same as the remaining 14. The clear night sky would give way to a clear dawn sky and the big red African sun would appear just in time to illuminate the freshest tracks for us, as we neared the first special spot to start the day’s adventure. We had no way of knowing that in the next couple of hours the big rifle would be in motion, that game plan could be changed in a heart beat. I did know that the usual hunt strategy was to get the “client” to take a non-dangerous species first for the in-field test. But that was not the way it would be. If my PH’s had learned anything from yesterday’s aborted warthog attempt, I would hope that it was that at least this guy doesn’t shoot at stuff he can’t see.

I really didn’t want to go down in their books as “The one that was OK at the range... but in the field!!” It was now about eight o’clock and we had crossed over several areas where the elephants had been in the night but none of these tracks were just right to cause that special flurry of activity that signalled we were going in after them! Then even to my untrained eye the trampled look that so much of this area exhibited - gave way to a more chewed up, farm yard appearance. The beasts ahead of us now had different feet! And just as I had worked this all out, the air gave off a distinct cattle aroma. But the march continued through the thorns and just as I was really starting to wonder why I was the only one getting a “rush” from all this, Pete dropped back to explain. We had gotten in behind a fairly large buffalo herd which we were not going after at this moment. They would be easy to relocate later on. We were going to drop back - regroup and try to locate any old bachelor bulls that would be trailing behind the main herd. Pete had barely fished his explanation when Chemani and Robso returned and from the huddle I could deduce that the time was at hand to do some serious stuff.

**YALE** · 02-12-2011, 05:40 PM

Originally posted by John Millar

After a few minutes on the bulls’ tracks, Campbell whispered to check that I was loaded and on safe and fall in tight behind Pete, a quick glance back showed me that John, the Game Dept Scout and Tracy, the one girl film crew, had already fallen back about 75 yards. While those remaining at the front had all assumed a queer bent over position - I did the same just to fit in. Each step along the path took us closer and closer to the full crawl position which was to be the mode of travel for the next couple of hundred yards. This position of the stalk must have consumed at least 45 minutes and one of the highlights for me was running a one and half inch thorn into my front paw. I don’t think anybody saw this performance, luckily it happened just as one of the stop, don’t move, or even blink signals had been sent out. Besides if anyone had noticed that strange wide eyed look that swept over my face they would have only thought “Oh he’s just excited - that’s good - he’s getting his money’s worth!” The good thing is the guy that made those thorns left a little handle on the end to pull them out with. The further we manoeuvred along the trail the more to the rear the rest of the party retreated till Pete and I were alone crouched in some thorn bushes, could we be that near that the rest knew something I didn’t. And then Pete asked those most stressful of questions: Can you make out the big one on the left? And do you think you can take him from here? The word “no” came to my mind immediately, as of that precise moment I hadn’t even seen the one on the “right” so how in hell would I have seen the big one on the left!?

And to answer the second part of this question - I was half sitting on one cheek of my ass crouched down straining to see through a thorn bush holding a 24 lb rifle that produced hundreds of foot lbs of recoil at my end. Not the ideal position to be asked such a question. But as they say, “everything comes to those who wait” so I guess those two and half seconds that I was choking back the “no” words were spent wisely. Mr Big Black Buffalo on the right and his Bigger Blacker Brother on the left made their move, they rushed from behind their hiding place at full buffalo gallop across in front of us left to right. Now I was with the programme and on my hind legs trying to get clear of as many of these bushes as possible to swing the gun up and at least be able to say I had a bull in my sight, it was at this most opportune of moments actually clear of thorns with the rifle up and cocked and swinging in a left to right direction that the pair actually halted to change course. They were a fraction of a second off from showing us their other ends when I felt that familiar push on my shoulder. My brain recentred itself in my head just in time to hear Pete say “reload” and see Campbell running to the right and a warthog family rushing right through our midst. I was now running beside Campbell as it was obvious he knew where to head. From his vantage point off to the right of the smoke and noise, he had had a clear view of the buffalo bull at the moment I had fired. As we slowed our advance a little, Campbell uttered those words that every Safari client longs to hear, “Good hit!, he’ll be right here, he won’t go far after that”. There he was! He had done the classic buffalo manoeuvre-run down wind and lay in wait watching his back trail. But the big lead slug had taken its toll, he had only gone about 60 yards and was down on his haunches. We approached from the side and the second slug sent this magnificent animal in the history books.

The first Cape Buffalo taken in Matetsi area in Zimbabwe in a long, long while with a 4-Bore Double Rifle. While the site was being readied for the all important photo shoot and the vehicle brought in to retrieve the prize. We gave the bull a close inspection; the first shot had gone in well back in the ribs as he was angling away at the moment of impact, but had done a very good job of penetrating the full distance through all the vital parts and was still in there. The second round entered squarely through the shoulder and was also still in there! A walk down the back trail made it very clear that the second shot would not have been needed. The one inch bullet left a huge open wound channel and the big guy was out of juice even before the 60 yard distance had been covered. Pete and Campbell both agreed they had never seen a buffalo lose so much blood so quickly. Everyone was glad to have been there that day and had the opportunity to slip back into the pages of one of those books we had all read of the olden days and the big doubles.

Back at the butchery, both slugs were retrieved in perfect condition: The first had broken ribs, traversed the whole lung and heart area hitting the opposite side lower shoulder bones and stopped under the hide; The second broke bone passing through the first shoulder through the lungs and was lodged in the off shoulder ball socket.

.465 solids recovered from an elephant and 4-bore hard lead alloy solids recovered from a buffalo.

Originally posted by John Millar

After a quick lunch, we were back on the elephant’s tracks. But now the P.H.’s seemed a little less apprehensive with this gun and hunter combo. They mentioned that “now we can get in close and really check out their teeth!”. I wondered how much closer! They looked pretty big and awfully close the other day. I would find out in the remaining days (close means just that when you hunt elephant!). We had already done and accomplished so much and still had 13 more sunrises and sunsets to enjoy the African bush in-between. This is a story about the Big Double Rifle and the hunt for Gums, the elephant - which did go on right till after sundown on our last day. At which time two big bulls walked out from the herd of about 50, and did battle in the glowing twilight. This may sound like a bit of writer’s exaggeration - it’s not so. When the light completely failed us, we could still hear the ivory’s clacking before we started the Land Cruiser to back away and leave them undisturbed. On the last evening, Pete seemed to be trying to console me with the fact that there would not be a Dad and Daughter and 4-bore elephant photo in the album. I was quick to tell him that there would be several hundred other wonderful pictures and memories - including the buffalo, a super kudu, a very nice zebra and an impala. The next morning as the sun’s first light hit the strip - the Cesna left the ground below effortlessly in the cool morning air. I twisted around in my seat to look at Tracy wedged in between the gun cases and hunting gear. A big smile came across her face - neither of us said anything, but I know the same thought had formed in our heads. “We had done it. We had hunted the elephant”.

CJ · 02-12-2011, 05:48 PM

billet cases dude. I'd like to find some of those at the range. That's nuts, it's like firing a D battery at 2000fps.

**YALE** · 02-12-2011, 06:03 PM

Yeah, I thought you'd get a kick out of it. Time to open a bespoke gun shop!

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