By Clair Rees

We started up the mountain in pre-dawn darkness, with the stars just beginning to fade. We were headed to the top of the Skeena range, hoping to find the band of goats we'd seen in the spotting scope the previous evening.
 
Reg Collingwood, my guide, set a heart-attack pace. As the slope steepened, we were forced to stop every 20 or 30 minutes to catch our breath. At timberline, my legs finally gave out. "Gotta rest a minute," I wheezed, flopping down to lean against my pack. Reg followed suit, breathing as hard as I was.
 
I lay there gasping, silently cursing my rifle. The British Columbia hunt had been sponsored by a gun company, so I was obliged to carry an imported .30-06 wearing a large steel-bodied scope. Complete with sling and a magazine filled with ammo, the outfit weighed 11 1/2 pounds. That much heft was bad enough when I rode horseback, but wore me down when I headed through the woods on foot. The worst was yet to come.
 
My rifle grew heavier with every step up that cussed mountain. By the time I reached the summit four hours later, it seemed to weigh 50 pounds. Before the hunt was over, I'd sworn off overweight firearms for life. My love affair with lightweight rifles was about to begin.
 
I know experienced hunters who want nothing to do with lightweight rifles. "They're just not accurate," they say. "When I'm out of breath and trying to aim, the barrel weaves all over the place," others complain. "I want a rifle with enough heft to settle down and hold steady on target."
 
"Ultralight barrels can't generate enough velocity," is another statement I often hear. "They're too short to be effective!" Another common complaint is, "They kick too hard!"
 
Lightweight rifles do have drawbacks, but I'll accept some tradeoffs for the benefits they offer. One thing I won't compromise on is accuracy. Fortunately, I've found that today's well-designed, properly tuned and bedded rifles are capable of excellent accuracy, regardless of heft. Weight alone isn't the deciding factor.
 

Rees' lightweight rifle battery includes these Remington Model Sevens (from left): AWR (Alaskan Wilderness Rifle) .300 SA Ultra Mag; 7mm-08 KS (Kevlar Synthetic); and MS (Mannlicher Stock) carbines, all from Remington's Custom Shop.

Featherweight firearms may seem more skittish when the wind blows and you're breathing hard, but I haven't found this a real factor in the hunting I've done. Whenever I've had a solid rest or shot from a sitting or prone position, I've had little trouble connecting at extended range.
 
You do sacrifice some velocity when you use a 20- or 22-inch barrel vs. a longer 24- or 26-inch spout. The loss is roughly 26 fps for every inch of barrel sacrificed, or a total of around 100 fps if you opt for a light, handy 22-inch barrel instead of an ungainly 26-inch tube. Considering the advantages of lightweight rifles, I can live with that.
 
Extra recoil? Until the laws of physics are repealed, lighter rifles will recoil harder than heavier rifles firing the same load. I'll share some thoughts on that later.
 
The first truly featherweight rifle I owned sported the first fiberglass stock I'd ever seen. Chet Brown had mated his ground-breaking ultralight stock to a Remington Model 600 action sporting a wand-thin barrel. The result was a 6mm Remington carbine that weighed just 4 3/4 pounds and grouped factory loads into well under an inch at 100 yards.
 
My youngest son, John, borrowed it for his first deer hunt. You guessed it - he dropped his deer with a single shot, and immediately laid claim to the Chet Brown carbine. I'm sorry now I didn't ask Chet to make me a twin to that wonderful little rifle. Model 600 actions have become increasingly rare and expensive.
 
I didn't pay custom prices for most of the featherweight rifles in my safe. Regular production rifles have usually filled the bill. Early on, I acquired a Ruger M77RL Ultra Light carbine chambered for my favorite deer round, the .308 Winchester. This slick little rifle weighs just 6 1/4 pounds and has accompanied me on countless hunts. For years, I carried a 6 1/2-pound .308 Sako carbine stocked all the way to the muzzle. I still rue the day I traded that lovely little deer killer for some firearm I no longer remember. I thought I could always get a replacement, but when I picked up a seemingly identical Sako a few years later, it had unaccountably acquired an extra pound of heft! 
 
I recently chose a .308 Kimber Model 84M to hunt North Country deer. I own several easy-toting .308s, but none as light as the Model 84. My new Kimber tipped the scales at just 5 1/2 pounds in spite of its walnut stock. Mounting a 3-10x42mm Swarovski scope brought the rifle's ready-to-hunt weight to an easy-carrying 6 1/2 pounds.
 
I tried several handloads, finally settling on 47.0 grains of Varget that launched a 168-grain bullet at 2,750 feet per second and punched 3/4-minute of angle groups.
 
Saskatchewan is known for its big-bodied whitetails, but I wasn't looking forward to the subzero temperatures I was told to expect. I had plenty of cold-weather gear, including heavy wool pants, shirt and parka. Sorel boots and HeatMax hand and foot warmers completed my ensemble. Regulations required hunters to wear solid white or orange outer clothing, which I borrowed from the outfitter (the white garments I owned all featured camouflage patterning, so they couldn't legally be worn).
 
Arriving at Overflow Outfitters in Hudson Bay, fellow writer Holt Bodinson and I hit the 100-yard range to make sure our rifles were still properly zeroed. Two fouling shots burned the oil remaining in the bore. The next three rounds punched a 5/8-inch cloverleaf 2 inches above the bull's-eye.
 Guide Gerald Melnychuck was skeptical of my 5 1/2-pound .308. "There are some pretty big deer around here," he said. "Sure that little rifle is up to the job?" He pointed out that nearly all the other hunters in camp were shooting .300 magnums. Holt carried a .338.
 
I spent the first two days in a 5-foot-square wooden box overlooking an alfalfa field. Gerald would drop me off at 6 a.m. and pick me up 12 hours later. I placed my sack lunch under my parka, next to my chest. Otherwise, it would freeze solid in a matter of minutes. Drinking hot chocolate from a Thermos was the high point of my day.
 
Seeing no shootable bucks, I asked to hunt from a new location. This time, I walked several hundred yards through knee-deep snow to reach the blind. Stuffed with a Thermos bottle, camera gear, binoculars, spotting scope, spare gloves, ammo and a canteen of water, my pack was feeling pretty heavy by then, making it easy to work up a sweat. I appreciated how little the Kimber weighed.
 

Rifles Inc. .375 H&H Magnum delivers excellent 100-yard accuracy in spite of its bare 5 3/4-pound heft.

Perched in the elevated stand, I spotted a decent-looking 10-point buck around 8 a.m. After carefully examining the deer through the Swarovski EL 8x32mm binocular, I decided to shoot.
 
Naturally, my decision came a split-second too late. After posing broadside for several long seconds, the buck suddenly turned right and vanished into the trees. Swinging my rifle in that direction, I tried to catch the deer through an opening in the woods. No chance!
 
Lunchtime came and went. I leaned back in the chair and dozed. Every so often, I'd stir myself, unlimbering the binocular for a quick look around. The shadows were growing long when I finally spotted what looked like the same deer quietly browsing a little more than 100 yards away. The angle was wrong to let me use the blind's crossbar as a rest, so I fired offhand. My heart lurched when the deer disappeared. Had I missed?
 
Unloading the Kimber, I climbed from the blind. Then I reloaded and hurried toward where I'd last seen the deer. He was lying within 10 feet.
 
Two of my favorite rifles came from the Remington Custom Shop. These cost a little more than standard production rifles, but if you want a light, handy rifle that delivers gilt-edged accuracy, the Model Seven Custom KS and Model Seven AWR (Alaskan Wilderness Rifle) are tough to beat.
 
The 7mm-08 M7 Custom KS has a 20-inch barrel and a stock of grey fiberglass and aramid fibers. The rifle tips the scales at a scant 5 3/4 pounds and delivers sub-MOA accuracy with a variety of factory loads. A better deer and pronghorn rifle would be hard to find. Some say lightweight rifles "float" off target instead of settling down to shoot. If this has happened to me, I've never noticed. Without exception, the ultralight rifles in my battery shoot extremely well.
 
When I was invited to hunt with Brian Beisher's Big Buck Outfitters in Montana a few years back, I was told to expect long-distance shooting. I prefer to stalk close rather than depend on long-range marksmanship, but I wanted to be prepared.
 
Accordingly, I asked Remington to loan me a Model Seven AWR in .300 Remington Short Action Ultra Mag chambering. The .300 magnum would provide plenty of long-range punch, as long as the accuracy held up. I needn't have worried on that count. After a little careful tuning (shaving down the forward part of the barrel channel) and experimenting with a few handloads, the AWR rewarded me with 1/2-inch three-shot groups at 100 yards.
 
The load I settled on consisted of a 168-grain boattail ahead of 64.0 grains of Big Game powder. The bullet exited the 22-inch barrel at 3,015 fps. While the gun weighed barely 6 pounds, recoil was surprisingly light. I'm convinced fiberglass stocks reduce apparent kick. The rifle seemed to recoil no harder than a .308 Winchester would.
 
The ultralight Model Seven was sighted-in to strike dead-on at 350 yards. A trajectory chart taped to the stock showed the holdover needed to shoot accurately out to nearly twice that distance. I carried a collapsible Steady-Stix bipod and a Bushnell laser range-finder. I was set for long-range shooting.
 
Four days of hoofing through endless miles of high desert country made me truly appreciate the rifle's 6-pound heft. Long range? I killed my buck with a single shot as he trotted through a clearing 60 paces away. I couldn't bring myself to return that light, easy-kicking, tack-driving .300 magnum, so I sent Remington a check.
 
Speaking of lightweight magnums, a few years back, I had Lex Webernick of Rifles Inc. build me one of his "Lightweight 70s." The .375 H&H stainless-steel bear rifle tips the scales at just 5 3/4 pounds. Lest you think it's unbearable to shoot (sorry), it wears a surprisingly effective Quietbrake muzzle brake.
 
Because Ed Stevenson, my Alaska bear guide, has an abiding hatred of muzzle brakes, I had the barrel threaded so the brake could be removed. The first time I fired the flyweight .375 with the brake installed, it kicked no harder than some of the .300 magnums I own. I decided then that muzzle brake was never coming off. Next time I hunted with Ed, I gave him a handful of earplugs. "Put them in when you see a bear," I said. Ed complained - but tried to talk me out of the .375 at the end of the hunt.
 
If you think I'm just being macho, a friend has an identical 5 3/4-pound .375 magnum she uses to hunt brown bears and other oversized critters. She is anything but oversized. Barely 5 feet tall, she weighs maybe 100 pounds soaking wet. I've yet to hear her complain about recoil.
 
Other easy-toting rifles in my safe include a 6-pound, 2-ounce Savage 10FCM Sierra in .308 chambering, a 5 3/4-pound Ultra-Lightweight Weatherby Mark V .300 Win Mag, and two other Remington Model Sevens.
 
Why am I such a fan of lightweight rifles? Maybe I'm just lazy. I've learned you do a whole lot more carrying than shooting during a hunt. A little extra recoil is an easy tradeoff for lugging overweight rifles across miles of desert or up steep mountain slopes.

Clair Rees
GunHunter Magazine - August 2006