鈥淢ove to the line,鈥� yells Roy McGechaen, a rifle range safety official. A simple red light bulb turns on in the corner of the outdoor shooting shelter indicating the rifle range is 鈥渉ot.鈥�
Seven men and one woman step forward and grab their .22 caliber rifles, sit down at wooden tables and get into position to shoot.
鈥淟oad and make ready,鈥� continues McGechaen, standing behind the line of shooters at the Squamish Valley Rod and Gun Club Sunday morning.
Frances Hoogenboom sits at a bench, one of her father鈥檚 rifles in her hands. She leans down and takes aim, her pointer finger hovering over the trigger.
鈥淔ire when ready,鈥� bellows McGechaen and a bell, strangely similar to the sound of a bicycle bell, rings.
Hoogenboom fires. The sound of bullets pinging off targets 鈥� there are chicken, turkey and pig targets 鈥� echoes through the Squamish Valley. The sweet, pungent smell from the gunfire lingers in the air for a few seconds and then dissipates.聽
Hoogenboom, 28, has been coming to club with her dad since she was four years old.
These days, she comes up from her home in Coquitlam, boyfriend in tow, once a month to visit family and shoot at the range. 鈥淚t is fun,鈥� she says, glancing at her dad and smiling. 鈥淚t is one more thing to be able to work at and perfect.鈥�
She says the monthly trips to the range are part of family time in Squamish that also includes a dinner, or just hanging out at her family home. She grew up here.
Living in the city now as a nursing student, Hoogenboom says she gets a few raised eyebrows when she tells people she shoots guns for sport. Some people don鈥檛 get it, she says.
Her dad, Frank Hoogenboom, 56, was born and raised in Squamish and has been coming to the rod and gun club range since he was eight years old. He comes at least once a week, usually on Thursday nights, when the club is a little bit quieter than on weekends.
鈥淚t is a really nice way to spend a couple of hours after work,鈥� he says.
After everyone has a chance to shoot, a green light replaces the red, and some club members step away from their weapons and chat while others walk out onto the range to retrieve the shot-up targets.
鈥淚t is very social,鈥� Frank says, raising his voice over the din of conversation and laughter that almost matches the cacophony of gunfire moments before.
This summer marks the 73rd anniversary of the Squamish Valley Rod and Gun Club, the oldest club in Squamish. It was granted charter under the 小蓝视频 Societies Act on July 30, 1942.
The current club facilities have been located on the 10 acres of Crown land off Centennial Way for more than 50 years. According to current club president Mike Wallace, members built the clubhouse and indoor range during the 1960s.
The club鈥檚 administration recently renewed its lease on the land to 2044.
Despite the longevity of the club, there has never been a firearm-related accident, Wallace says proudly. Safety is a priority and a responsibility of every member, he stresses.
The organization, which currently boasts a membership of about 740 outdoor enthusiasts, started as a fishing and hunting group but has expanded to include shooting sports, archery, conservation and training.
Over the years, as Squamish has grown up around the club, there has been conflict with some neighbours, but steps have been taken to mitigate those conflicts, says Wallace.
He credits the District of Squamish for insisting on covenants for the new housing developments that have popped up nearby.
鈥淚f you are buying and building next to the gun club, then you should expect to hear noise, so it is not like they are not forewarned,鈥� says Wallace, adding that members don鈥檛 shoot before 9 a.m. or after 9 p.m. in the summer or after 5 p.m. in the winter, out of respect for their residential neighbours. To ensure they know what to expect, the club provides district bylaw officers with schedules of when there will be heavy gunfire, such as from the police forces that train and practise at the club.
Wallace has a simple reply to those who still object to gunfire there: 鈥淚f you want us to move, find us a place and figure out how you are going to move us,鈥� he suggests. He estimates there is close to
$1 million worth of infrastructure on the site.
Wallace, who says he first held a gun when he was about five years old on his family farm 鈥� and has shot just about every kind of gun there is to shoot 鈥� says a large portion of the club鈥檚 membership doesn鈥檛 ever go hunting. 鈥淭hey are just target shooters,鈥� he says.
He disagrees with people who are opposed to guns and shooting on principal.
鈥淔irearms aren鈥檛 bad 鈥� some of the people who have them are bad,鈥� he says. 鈥淎 gun has never shot anybody by itself.鈥�
Wallace says he and the club members have a healthy respect for weapons and what they can do that is lacking in some people who have not grown up around guns or ranges.
鈥淭hat is a thing of this particular age now that there鈥檚 a big division between what we call rural and people living in [cities],鈥� he says. 鈥淭hey associate guns with everything they see that is bad, and we can鈥檛 help that. The criminal element, they don鈥檛 go by rules and regulations and of course the public that are not aware, judge everything by what they read and see, which is a real problem.鈥�
But for all the naysayers, there are plenty of others who support the club and want to join. They have had to cap the membership, Wallace says, so that there aren鈥檛 lineups hours long to take a turn.
The entire site is a beehive of expansion activity. Construction聽is聽underway on the site for the long-awaited Squamish Legacy Sports Park, which will be home of the Sea to Sky Nordics. Biathlon athletes who train at the park will use the Squamish Valley Rod and Gun Club鈥檚 new biathlon range shooting facility. There is also a new trapshooting shed, washroom facility and a new archery range underway 鈥� and plenty of landscaping yet to be done, says Wallace.
For more information on the club, visit .
