Shot cut to adventure

The Jebel Ali Shooting Club is a haven for eternal adolescents in search of fun.

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4 MIN READ

Piers Grimley Evans tries his hand at shooting at Jebel Ali and is proud there were no serious disasters.

Picking up a shotgun from the Jebel Ali Shooting Club's counter is a touch reminiscent of collecting shoes at a bowling alley.

Regi Varghese
The Jebel Ali Shooting Club is a haven for eternal adolescents in search of fun.

Still, the moment you feel a 12-gauge double-barrelled Beretta in your hand, you realise this is an altogether different category of leisure pursuit.

The weapon's weight, its sleek oiled barrel and its scrolled engravings convey power, craftsmanship, and — for a novice gunslinger — a whiff of menace.

Even if you are just there to have a blast, this is clearly a device to be taken seriously.

Placing it gingerly over my shoulder, I headed out to the range. A confident Swarzenegger strut felt inappropriate, so I settled instead for a discreet John Wayne waddle.

Outside, the range throbbed with the afternoon heat. In the desert before us stood two miniature huts and around them lay a litter of orange shards.

"Don't think of anything — not your wife nor your mother. Don't disturb your brain. Concentrate for a fraction of a second. Then call for a clay," advises Amine Makarem.

The club manager Amine Makarem paused and pointed as a pigeon flew overhead. "Look at the pigeons by the range," he said. "They know how peaceful we are."

10 years old

This May, the Jebel Ali International Shooting Club and Centre of Excellence celebrated its 10th anniversary.

Over the years it has played a leading role in fostering Dubai's excellence — even hosting Shaikh Ahmad Mohammad Hasher Al Maktoum, Olympic gold medallist.

This November, it will also host the International Shooting Sport Federation World Cup Final.

But it is also open to corporate groups and eternal adolescents in search of some clay-busting fun.

I had come to try sport shooting — a recreational version of the sport requiring, I hoped, less skill than the exacting Olympic disciplines of trap, double trap and skeet.

With a sporting layout the clays (orange disks) fly out of the traps (the tiny huts) in a manner that imitates selected prey.

Saftey comes first at Jebel Ali Shooting club and all shooters are well prepped before each session.

The full Tex Avery feature includes "rolling rabbit", "high pheasant", "incoming duck" and "driven grouse".

But the dinner plate I was aiming to obliterate was a "springing teal" — a clay that whizzes almost vertically from the trap (a handy trajectory for a beginner).

Learning the rules

Before I got to blast away, though, I had to first demonstrate my grasp of safety precautions.

"We also teach people to kill a target," says Makarem. "But the main message is safety and the right way to hold a gun."

"In the military they expect one mistake every 10,000 shots. Here we have fired 16 to 17 million shots," he says. "We have never allowed one mistake."

To use the range without an instructor all punters must demonstrate they are experienced shots. Otherwise, they must first take a lesson.

The procedure for journalists is especially stringent.

Makarem is clearly keen that not only should I follow safe procedures but also understand and appreciate them. So before I get near a gun, we sit down for a lengthy explanation in the club's restaurant.

To use the range without an instructor all punters must demonstrate they are experienced shots. Otherwise, they must first take a lesson.

"Any accident would immediately close the club," he says. "All our instructors are well-trained by us to look after safety as priority number one."

It took half an hour for the list of prohibitions to draw to close. "And we also turn away nervous people," he concluded. "If you are too nervous, you could be dangerous." He mimed a wild stare and agitated gestures.

By now, feeling a bit jittery myself, I tried to shift the conversation to the fun side of firearms. "So, do people come dressed up as Dirty Harry?"

Makarem paused for a moment. His look hinted that it was not one of those I'm-glad-you-asked-me-that enquiries. "This is a sport and we teach it as a sport. There is no dress code," he said dryly.

Out on the range, mind you, his severe approach made a lot of sense. Samson, my instructor, took me through the ways an incorrect handling of the gun would leave me short of some toes — or create staff shortage in the Gulf News photography department.

There is a very specific way to pick up, load and aim a shotgun.

Never leave your finger resting on the trigger. Never close a loaded gun with the muzzle resting on the ground. Turn the gun on its side as you open it to release spent cartridges.

Anyway, after a few minutes I must have taken it all in, because Samson decided I was ready to put it into action.

"You need to be the coolest person on earth," Makarem had told me. "Don't think of anything — not your wife nor your mother. Don't disturb your brain. Concentrate for a fraction of a second. Then call for a clay."

The first time

I dropped in a couple of cartridges, clicked the barrel shut and pushed the stock into my shoulder pocket.

Leaning forward with my left foot in front, I squinted down the barrel at the trap. "Ready?" asked Samson.

"Umm… yeah." "Pull," he shouted

The clay sailed up into the sky. I tracked it with my muzzle until, just as Samson had said it would, it reached the top of its trajectory and paused momentarily. I let rip and the clay gratifyingly evaporated into a cloud of fragments.

Gobsmacked, I turned to share my delight with the photographer. I a

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