Shootout at Knob Creek: Kentucky's explosive event attracts gun enthusiasts from across the US - but its appeal is broader than you might expect

Office workers, lawyers, doctors and businessmen are also in attendance to take advantage of the opportunity to fire off high-calibre automatic weaponry with gay abandon. But, as Andrew Dewson finds, it's an expensive hobby

Contestants hit targets filled with explosives at Knob Creek, which attracts 10,000 gun enthusiasts (AFP/Getty)

“Excuse me. Do you mind me asking what that is for?” The man at the next table is holding what appears to be a handgun, but it actually looks more like a giant black beer can with a pistol grip and a hammer.

Spent casings litter the floor by his muddy hunting boots. It looks like the sort of gun Wile E Coyote would buy, with bullets of equally cartoonish size.

He shouts over the din: “I hunt bears with a handgun. It’s a big gun ‘cos if you hit a bear and he goes down, you want him to stay down. You don’t want him getting up angry.”

Knob Creek in Kentucky is about 30 miles outside Louisville just north of Fort Knox, known outside the southern United States for an eponymous brand of bourbon. In rural America, it is famous for something else: guns.

The Knob Creek Machine Gun Shoot is a biannual event that attracts gun enthusiasts from across America, as well as fringe conspiracy theorists and anti-government survivalists. It also attracts ordinary office workers, lawyers, doctors and businessmen. “They are the ones who are less likely to talk to you,” laughs Chad Sumner, a Louisville fireman whose dad, Kenny, owns the range.

The range is open all year for regular shooting practice and anyone with a driver’s licence can rent an AK-47 or an M60 (classified as “small arms”) for the afternoon. But there aren’t many ranges that can accommodate high-calibre automatic weaponry. Unloading with gay abandon is a treat that attracts up to 10,000 contestants. The range is perfect for machine guns: a 350-yard horseshoe-shaped bowl, surrounded by pine trees and presumably filled with enough lead to be a major health hazard.

As the three-day shoot gets under way, the range is at capacity – not just with people and every variety of machine gun imaginable, but with a smattering of cars, boats and refrigerators – just about anything that can take a bullet. There is even a trailer park home on the range, already on fire and riddled with bullet holes, sending thick, black plumes of smoke into the sky.

“This event pulls in people from all backgrounds and I expect lots of them would identify themselves as liberals,” says Chad. “But we are open to everyone and our absolute priority is safety. Nobody who breaks the rules gets a second chance; there is a 10-year waiting list for a spot on the range at this event, so people better behave or lose it.”

Knob Creek doesn’t just have a range to shoot guns, it also has a shop that would make the average British Army regiment green with envy. Explosive-packed targets, handguns in all shapes, sizes and colours (pink for the ladies and small versions for children included, of course), knives that look more like swords, machine guns and assault rifles. If it fires, it’s for sale, with price tags up to $13,000 (£8,700). It is a Santa’s grotto to an increasing majority of Americans.

Crowds of gun enthusiasts are ready to spend their money. And spend it they will. Chad estimates that, even though October’s shoot was badly affected by rain, approximately 1.3 million rounds were fired. “Lots of people here will easily spend $10,000 to $15,000 just on ammunition over the three days.” Shooting is an expensive hobby, even in Kentucky. There is also a trade show going on at Knob Creek, but it’s not just guns and ammunition for sale. Wherever military memorabilia is sold there is always a fringe, punting questionable “vintage” products, borderline racist bumper stickers, conspiracy theories and anti-government propaganda. Knob Creek’s owners try to limit sales to military memorabilia, but the underbelly is here.

“The conspiracy theorists and nutjobs find the cameras, or rather the cameras find them,” says Dave Jockell, a technical consultant for a paint company, a regular Knob Creek visitor and owner of 50 guns. “Like the vast majority of people here, I don’t particularly care for that element. We are just here because we love guns and want to have fun.”

But, judging by last weekend, anyone hoping to find massed tinfoil-wearing conspiracy theorists twitching for a gunfight is going to be disappointed. The basic advice is true: be friendly and everyone will be friendly back. But is it fun? It’s certainly loud. The noise is deafening despite the ear protectors. Years of watching guns getting fired in movies will leave most people woefully unprepared for just how loud gunfire actually is.

For a minimum investment of $150, anyone can have a crack at a 30mm machine gun, even a foreigner. For an extra $50, punters can upgrade to the 50mm or go with tracer shells, which seems a bit of a waste of money on a bright spring morning.

Losing money on a craps table can be a blink-and-you’ve-missed-it affair. This is faster, only slightly more fun. Shooting a semi-automatic assault rifle is a real challenge, aiming and fighting the kick. This machine gun is on a tripod, so most of the kick is removed and $150-worth of shells disappears very fast. Much more fun watching people unload on the cars and boats, and two were even kind enough to bring their working cannons.

The Knob Creek Machine Gun Shoot is a strangely alien and unnerving event. It confirms many of the gun enthusiast stereotypes: camo clothing and Duck Dynasty beards with an undercurrent of paranoia.

However, what is also abundant is ordinary Americans, out to enjoy a day of watching an Arnold Schwarzenegger film come to life. It’s an increasingly popular day out.

Just don’t upset anyone.