Taking the Savage Impulse Mountain Hunter in 7mm PRC to Moose Country

Note: This article was written as a companion to our Savage Impulse Mountain Hunter review. Click here for part 1.

While Eric Poole was waltzing through wine country, I had the opportunity to take the Savage Impulse Mountain Hunter up north of Vancouver to the area around Fort St. James in central British Columbia. A historic fur trading hub dating back to 1806, Fort St. James is the oldest permanent European settlement in British Columbia, and a critical outpost for, first, the North West Company, then the Hudson’s Bay Company starting in 1821. It’s a geographically diverse area with rivers, lakes, mountains and seemingly unending swathes of timber land. It’s also a game-­rich territory. I held tags for moose, elk and black bear, and had been forewarned that we’d be hunting around a dense brown bear population.

You know the saying that begins, “If it sounds too good to be true?” In this case, it was. Arriving in late September, we should have been lousy with rutting bulls. As it was, temperatures were unseasonably warm, by a full 20 degrees Fahrenheit, and anything with dark fur and serious mass was hunkered down trying to stay cool.

We put in the work though. I was hunting with renowned outfitter Mike Hawkridge and Seth Swerczek from Hornady. Most days, we were logging eight or nine miles through broken ground, overgrown meadows, across fields of timber blow-­down, and around rain swollen lakes. More than once we ended up in alders and willows too thick and tall to see around, and the only paths to place a step were well-­worn bear trails. We even took to the water, cruising the Stuart River one morning. We must have seen 40 bald eagles fishing and scavenging, and even a bull elk accompanied by a cow and calf. As Hawkridge said, “I thought that booger was in the boat, for sure.” Unfortunately, he was one-­point shy of being a legal shooter.

“We have to put in the miles,” Hawkridge would say, but I could see even he was getting worried about our odds as the days slipped by. Perhaps the most memorable march was to the top of “Fire Mountain,” a big game honey hole so named for having been scorched by wildfire some years before. It was a hot, steep hike through dense alders, and I couldn’t help envisioning a tough pack out — likely at least two trips, several miles each way — if we were successful. I needn’t have been concerned; the mountain seemed barren of game. The views from the summit were beautiful, and bushes laden with cranberries, blueberries and huckleberries offered some reward, but their unspoiled presence was further proof that the site was devoid of animals.

One bright spot during these sometimes-­grueling treks was the Savage Impulse Mountain Hunter. Mine was chambered in 7mm PRC, and while it was in no way a lightweight rifle, it did manage to stay a few ounces under 9 pounds with a sling and scope installed. Again, not light, but certainly manageable. I never felt burdened by the rifle, and I was confident that I had enough gun for anything we might encounter.

My other gear included a Leupold VX-­5HD 3-­15x44mm riflescope with the illuminated Firedot Duplex reticle. I also carried a Javelin bipod from Spartan Precision Equipment and had rigged the rifle with a sling swivel adapter to accept the magnetic head of the lightweight support. Finally, ammunition was supplied by Hornady, and I opted for the Frontier load with a 160-­grain CX bullet.

Our search for game took us gradually deeper into the timber. I remember coming across one winter logged plot that offered some of the best shooting lanes and areas of open terrain we’d yet seen. Hawkridge made some notes to himself about the location and remarked, “Moose are going to get spanked in there, we just need to make sure we are holding the paddle.” We hunted in and around that spot for the next two days, the last of our trip. On the final morning, as the day was heating up and we were preparing to hike back to the truck, Hawkridge spotted a bull moose.

He wasn’t a monster, but he was antlered and the first legal game we’d laid eyes on. I was tempted to take the first available shot; it would have been about 170 yards through a narrow lane. I was confident, but the thick vegetation would have made a deflection very likely. So, we waited. And the moose began walking away.

If you haven’t heard a cow moose vocalize, it sounds a lot like my 80-­pound hound mix crying to be fed or let out of the crate. Low, short whines, sounding more disgruntled than frisky. Seeing the scene unfold, and the lone bull beginning to leave, Hawkridge immediately started his cow-­in-­heat impression with gusto. Sure enough, to all of our surprise, that bull walked himself back toward us until, at 100 yards with a clear view of his shoulder, one shot from the Savage put him down.

In the end, my week in B.C. would go down as a truly memorable hunt with plenty of hard work and final success in the waning days of camp. We spent hours cutting meat and hauling that bull out of the woods. We even cooked up the ribs over an open flame to feed and celebrate with the whole crew. We shared around the video which Swerczek had managed to capture, in which I can be seen firing, immediately reloading and then, after a pause, retracting the bolt to check the chamber. One fellow hunter asked, “Did the gun’s bolt hang up?” The answer was “No.” “In fact,” I explained, “I was checking the chamber because that bolt had run so smooth and fast, I wasn’t sure it had actually picked up a round.” It had, of course, and I’ve admired the operation of the American-­made straight-pull ever since.

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