40 YEARS WITH CHRONOGRAPHS

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Many handloading hunters may not believe this, but most of us don't really need a chronograph to develop or use handloads in the field. I know this partly because of taking a big bunch of varmints and several dozen big game animals before buying my first chronograph 40 years ago.

It was not purchased at a store or through a catalog, but by writing letters on actual paper with a typewriter, then putting them into an envelope, attaching a stamp, and mailing the envelope to the Custom Chronograph Company in Washington state, a company I'd read about in HANDLOADER'S DIGEST. It may seem incredible that electronic chronographs even existed in those primitive days, but circumstantial evidence suggested they did, including the increasing number of articles in gun magazines that listed chronographed velocities of handloads. Some articles even included photographs of the author using the chronograph, though usually in black and white. This wasn't because color photography didn't exist, but because most gun magazines only used color on their covers.

Chronographs were similarly semi-primitive. I purchased the Custom Chronograph partly because the owner of the company (and, I eventually realized, its only employee) offered me a 50% discount, because I'd published a handful of gun articles, accompanied by photos taken with black-and-white film. Even the half-off price was equivalent to about 300 of today's dollars, a good-sized chunk of cash to a young writer, still attending college part-time.

After snail-mailing a check, the package arrived in about a week. Upon opening it, there was the first chronograph I'd actually laid eyes on, or rather its various parts. Its heart was a square metal box about the size of half a loaf of bread, with a dial in the middle that could be clicked to ten numbers from 0-9, circling the dial like the face of a clock.

Two pairs of wires ran from the back of the box, a short pair to be hooked up to an old-fashioned 6-volt battery about half the size of the box, and a pair about 20 feet long to hook up to the bullet sensors. The package included two kinds of sensors, one a pair of light "screens," just then becoming cutting-edge chronograph technology, along with a pair of "break-screen" holders, and a few hundred break screens

Up until then, break-screens were standard, usually paper with a grid of glued-on metal foil. The screens were stretched across a pair of clip-holders connected by the wires to the chronograph. A bullet had to be shot through both screens, and after the shot, you turned the dial around the face of the chronograph box. Little red lights would turn on next to some of the numbers. You wrote them down, then looked up the sequence in an accompanying booklet, which provided the velocity of the shot.

Even though break-screens were quite accurate, they had several disadvantages. You had to replace both screens after each shot, which cost both time and money, and you could not shoot a group at the same time. Passing through two layers of paper and foil might slightly deflect a bullet, even if you could aim around the screens.

Which is why light-screens were developed. They could sense objects flying through the air above their slots, and didn't have to be replaced after each shot, saving considerable time and money. However, they cost more up front: If I recall correctly, the light-screens were half the total price of the Custom Chronograph.

Like a good little journalist, I decided the break-screens had to be tested, both to determine how they worked, and to have something to compare to the light-screen results. Neither the break-screen holders or light screens were already "set up" in a single unit, like most chronographs are today, so I screwed them precisely two feet apart onto a short 2x4, then epoxied an appropriate-sized steel nut into the bottom of the 2x4, so it could be mounted on my camera tripod. All of this might seem like considerable trouble, but in theory I'd get paid for my trouble by selling more gun articles.

I first tested the chronograph with some .22 Long Rifle ammo shot from my old Marlin Model 81 bolt rifle. They chronographed exactly the same through both the break and light screens--and also just about matched advertised velocity. After that I only rarely used the break-screens, usually to confirm readings with faster centerfire rounds, but never did use up my supply of screens. (I also saved that particular batch of .22 ammo, to use as a function-check in case the chronograph gave questionable readings.)

Back then I lived in Missoula, Montana, and did most of my test shooting at a rifle range on its outskirts, long before the land became a subdivision and the range had to move further into the boonies. It was a semi-public range, requiring a yearly membership fee paid at a local store named the Hunting Shack that sold handloaded ammunition. The store's owner eventually also decided to move to a more rural area 30 miles away, where locals wouldn't become alarmed by an ammo factory in their midst. (Today Missoula is almost as "politically-correct" as Portland, Oregon. Eileen and I moved away in 1986 for several reasons, including having to fight city-type traffic for close to an hour after a day of float-fishing the Bitterroot River.)

The Custom Chronograph worked well for the next dozen years, and I learned many things. First, most handloaders over-estimate the velocity of their ammo, apparently because that's part of handloader DNA.
But back then it was also partly due to the fact that back then many sources of loading data used longer barrels than found on most sporting rifles. Still, it was mostly our fault, because we usually looked through such several data sources, picking the one with the highest velocity for our load, even if it used different components.

My early chronograph results naturally involved handloads in my then-small collection of centerfire rifles. I'd tried to semi-scientifically estimate their velocities already, by sighting-in precisely at 100 yards, then shooting a target at 300 to confirm "drop," and compare the drop to the trajectory tables found in the back of most handloading manuals back then.

Range-shooting indicated my primary .270 Winchester handload, a maximum charge of the old mil-surp H4831 and a 150-grain spitzer, got a muzzle velocity of just about 3000 fps. This stroked my handloader's optimism--but according to the Custom Chronograph turned out to be wrong. Instead the velocity was around 2850 fps.

This dose of reality nearly ruined the load for me, despite it having taken plenty of animals out to well over 300 yards, all dying quite promptly. It occurred primarily because I didn't know much about those ballistic tables. They had two limitations, one relatively small and one pretty major.

First, all were based on a scope mounted with the reticle 1.5 inches over the bore. This was pretty close to average in those days, but I suspect the rings used on my .270 resulted in a little more height--which results in less drop at longer ranges.

More important was the fact that the trajectories were based on so-called "standard atmospheric conditions" of 59 degrees Fahrenheit at sea level. (There's also a standard humidity level of 78% and a barometric pressure of 29.53 inches, but those have a far smaller effect than elevation and temperature.) I was shooting at around 3500 feet above sea level, usually during summer in temperatures of 70-some degrees. As a result the air was thinner, and the bullets flew flatter.

I also learned about handloaders' optimism when other shooters at the range asked if they could take a few shots over my chronograph. This only happened once or twice a year, because even then my schedule was pretty flexible, so most often I'd be at the range on a weekday morning, partly to avoid wasting other shooters' time while setting up the chronograph. But ALL the other shooters who shot some rounds over the Custom Chronograph were disappointed by at least 100 fps. One strongly suggested the chronograph was wrong, because "their" velocity came from an official handloading book.

Other people I met later had similar experiences. My fellow gun writer John Haviland purchased his first chronograph a couple years after I bought mine, discovering the 160-grain 7mm Remington Magnum handload he'd used for years did not get 3000 fps, as "the book" stated. Instead it got around 2700, about like a 7x57 loaded to modern pressures--yet had killed a bunch of deer, black bears and elk pretty darn quickly. John never noticed the difference, because he mostly hunted in the heavily timbered mountains west of the Continental Divide, where ranges rarely exceeded 200 yards.

As I understood the ballistic tables better, I got pretty good at predicting trajectory at longer ranges using various sight-in heights at 100 yards (back then we didn't have "dialing" scopes that worked consistently). I used graph paper, because personal computers and ballistic programs hadn't yet appeared, but the hand-drawn graphs worked pretty well.

During the 1980s I used an old, but accurate, Remington 722 .257 Roberts inherited from my grandmother for pronghorn hunting, not just for my own antelope but when guiding for a central Montana outfitter. The handload was pretty warm, pushing a 100-grain Nosler Partition to around 3250 fps, but when sighted-in three inches high at 100 yards, I could kill a pronghorn by holding in the middle of its chest out to 300 yards. At longer distances the drop matched my graph closely:

350 -6
400 -12
450 -18
500 -27

I also learned to use the plex reticle on the 3-9x Weaver mounted on the .257 to bracket an antelope and estimate range. I killed several of my own antelope at ranges out to 450, and one wounded by a client at 550 (though only after an initial "ranging shot.")

Of course, these days we know a .25 caliber with relatively light, flat-base bullets is a poor choice for such shooting, but among other factors the rifle shot 100-grain Partitions very well. In fact, it was the first big game rifle I handloaded for that would consistently put five rounds (not just three) inside an inch at 100 yards. Years later, after meeting the head bullet designer at Nosler, I discovered the accuracy was probably due to the warm powder charge. The stiff kick in the bullet's butt probably "bumped up" the exposed rear core a little, making it fit the bore better.

In the early 1990's the Custom Chronograph quit working. The company was no longer listed in HANDLOADER'S DIGEST, but the phone number in the old edition where I'd read about them still worked. It turned out the owner was a rancher who'd made chronographs on the side for a while, but eventually couldn't compete with newer, cheaper light-screen chronographs with digital readouts.

He said he could probably repair mine, but instead I decided to move on, purchasing a newer one from L.L. Bean, on sale for $50. It was much like most of the inexpensive light-screen chronographs sold today, a complete unit with a digital readout that used a compact 9-volt battery. I still had some of the .22 ammo first used to test the Custom Chronograph, and the new chronograph gave almost exactly the same reading.

Eventually, however, I went through three of those chronographs. They all worked for a while, but eventually went bat-crazy in some way. One started giving readings up to 150 fps different when the sky was sunny or cloudy, even with the chronograph shaded. One even died when I "accidentally" shot it, perhaps due to a subconscious wish.

By that time a much bigger chunk of my income came from gun writing, and my overall income was pretty good as well. I started looking for a better chronograph. By then I'd had the opportunity to visit several professional ballistic labs, and every one of them had an Oehler chronograph, though always big professional models--like the one in the opening photograph.

Luckily, about then Ken Oehler decided to start making his 35P for handloaders again. I immediately ordered one, and not only discovered it was very insensitive to light variations, but also provided a double-check of velocities, thanks to THREE light-screens, set up in-line with each other. This may not be a big deal to the average handloader, but it was to a gun writer who needed consistently accurate information. Because of it's 3-screen length, the 35P took longer to set up than my previous chronographs, but after reading Ken's excellent instructions, not much.

However, by that time I was doing so much gun writing that, again as a good little journalist, I needed to try other chronographs, because readers asked about them. So I did, and over the years have used at least a dozen models, thanks in part to so many friends buying chronographs. They all worked, at least most of the time, but I never regretted acquiring the 35P.

Right now, in fact, I have five chronographs, though one is on loan to a young friend who couldn't afford one, but does the reloading for all his extended family's rifles. It's a cheaper model, costing around $100, but works far better than the model purchased from L.L. Bean. I know this because of testing it thoroughly against the 35P.

It provided very close to the same average velocities, though since the screen spacing is only a foot, is pretty useless for any sort of statistical analysis. However, it works fine for doing preliminary work, and also functions as a back-up in case the 35P ever needs repairing. (However, so far only the cheaper back-up has had to be repaired, due to an unexpected gust of wind blowing its tripod over one day at the range.)

I've also mostly kept up with the "beyond light-screen" technology in newer chronographs, finally breaking down this year and buying a Labradar. So far I really like it, but unlike the Oehler, the Labradar doesn't provide a double-check of velocities--which is why Bryan Litz uses two Labradars. Since they cost almost as much as an Oehler 35P, a pair is pretty pricey. Consequently the Oehler 35P is still my primary chronograph.

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But does the average hunter/handloader really need something that expensive or precise? Well, no, unless of course they're OCD enough to do real statistical analysis of their handloads. Quite a few handloaders supposedly do this anyway with cheaper chronographs, partly because several models include a standard deviation (SD) function. But unless you're using a far more precise chronograph this is a waste of time.

My inexpensive back-up unit, for instance, is a Competition Electronics ProChrono Pal. The light-screen spacing, as in many low-priced chronographs, is only a foot. With typical rifle handloads going somewhere around 3000 fps, this results in rounded-off readings, not truly precise readings. (This is exactly why most inexpensive chronographs often provide two or more readings in a string of velocities that are exactly the same.)

Also, most handloaders use the SD calculator on a 3-5 shot string, which is as useless as measuring smokeless powder by eyeballing the amount in your scale's pan. Ammo companies don't even bother calculating SD for a certain load until they've chronographed several dozen shots.

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Finally, the two really important things for any hunting handload are sufficient accuracy for the job, and where the bullets land at different ranges. Both are easily discovered by actual shooting at the distances you usually hunt, in the same weather conditions--which should be done anyway if you shoot animals beyond 200 yards. Even the finest chronograph and computer ballistic program won't exactly predict the trajectory of any load beyond 200 yards, when fired in your rifle under typical hunting conditions.

I often test handload trajectory in the field, and not just at paper targets or steel gongs, but by shooting at sandy cutbanks. This is easy to do when prairie dog shooting, because most PD towns lie amid cutbanks of various heights. Usually you can see not only where bullets land, but groups formed by the small craters in the sand. Of course, you may not be able to do that, at least not easily, but actual shooting at some sort of a range is more important than chronographing and calculating.

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In fact, I'll admit to not even chronographing some handloads before they go hunting. A few years ago I purchased an inexpensive Husqvarna .243 Winchester on the Campfire Classifieds--not because I needed another .243, but because the price was too good to pass up. Eileen noticed the little rifle, and decided she liked it a lot, so it became hers.

I "worked up" a handload by seating 100-grain Nosler Partitions over 42 grains of H4350. When we sighted-in the rifle, they grouped under an inch at 100 yards, but we were pressed for time before antelope season opened, and I didn't bother chronographing the load. (However, I guessed, based on plenty of .243 experience, it would go around 2900.)

Despite not knowing the exact muzzle velocity, Eileen killed a doe cleanly at just under 250 yards. When I finally got around to chronographing the load, the average was 2912 fps--but it wouldn't have mattered if it had been 2800 or 3000, something I also know from plenty of .243 experience.

In reality, most handloading hunters buy a chronograph so they can brag about how fast their loads are going--and even then often fudge the numbers a little. I also learned this shortly after affordable chronographs first became available, when a good friend phoned one evening, after taking a few shots over another friend's new chronograph. The first words out of his mouth were, "Thirty-one ninety!" This turned out to be the velocity of the FASTEST shot from his 130-grain .270 Winchester load, not the average.

Plus, as John Haviland discovered, 7x57 Mauser ballistics work pretty well even from a 7mm magnum at the ranges most of us hunt, both in hitting and killing big game. Which is one reason John eventually switched to the modern version of the 7x57, the 7mm-08 Remington, a few years ago--which has killed elk as handily as his 7mm magnum.

Do most hunters actually need a chronograph? It depends on how you define need, though according to rifle-loony "logic," need has nothing to do with it. Unless, or course, you're a gun writer who needs to provide velocities in his articles--the reason for purchasing my first chronograph 40 years ago.


“Montana seems to me to be what a small boy would think Texas is like from hearing Texans.”
John Steinbeck