bigscoop
Gold Member
- Jun 4, 2010
- 13,373
- 8,689
- Detector(s) used
- Older blue Excal with full mods, Equinox 800.
- Primary Interest:
- All Treasure Hunting
I love nearly everything this hobby, even the numerous scars around my ankles, shins, and feet from those runaway sand scoop buckets. I mean, what’s not to like? Nine laboring scoops in the deep soft sand with the surf knocking me around and the target suddenly disappears – no problem, I just smile, laugh it off with a few harsh words and resume the enjoyable hunt. I’ve always got a bottle of Advil in the truck.
Stainless steel scoop over my shoulder, metal detector strapped to my arm, I’ve walked at least a mile from where I parked the truck and now that unexpected lightening storm is right overhead and violently painting the sky. Every time those bolts of blue fire streak across the sky my butt cheeks get so tight it’s a wonder I can walk at all. By the way, where, exactly, did I park the truck?
Three hours of swinging the coil without so much as a solid chirp and the nice lady says to me, “Looks like you’re enjoying yourself.” The first reply that comes to mind is, “YOU HAVE NO IDEA JUST HOW CORRECT YOU ARE!” I don’t think I actually screamed that reply. Maybe I did since she didn’t seem to stay around long? I enjoy the challenge - of trying to control my frustration.
Fatigue. It’s a word I never knew when I was younger. During my mid-years I simply considered the hobby to be good exercise, a great way of staying in shape. This year I’m starting to realize it didn’t work. If I hunt too long these days I often leave the beach feeling like one of those stiff scarecrows you see standing in the edge of someone’s garden or cornfield. Upper arms pointed out, forearms hanging straight down. Luckily I can still get the cap off the Advil.
Foolers. Nothing I love more then to see the glitter of gold in the bottom of my scoop, no real letdown when I notice upon closer inspection that the gold is flaking off. That’s the one nice thing about pull tabs – they present a good mid-tone, they’re easily identifiable to the eye, and there’s no big surprise and no let-down in the end. Sounds like a pull tab, looks like a pull tab, yep, it’s a pull tab. Success all around!
Rough surf & late midnight hunts. I’ll wait to comment on these two issues the next time I’m so bored or so overly motivated that I decide to encounter either of them. Wasn’t always like that but I’ve convinced myself that I’ve just gotten much smarter in recent years. Sort of helps me make sense out of that old saying that with age comes wisdom. Really it simply means; if you’re getting too damn old to handle it then don’t do it. But I like the age and wisdom excuse much better. Low tide is around 2am this morning. Are you kidding.
Yep, I love everything about this hobby.
Stainless steel scoop over my shoulder, metal detector strapped to my arm, I’ve walked at least a mile from where I parked the truck and now that unexpected lightening storm is right overhead and violently painting the sky. Every time those bolts of blue fire streak across the sky my butt cheeks get so tight it’s a wonder I can walk at all. By the way, where, exactly, did I park the truck?
Three hours of swinging the coil without so much as a solid chirp and the nice lady says to me, “Looks like you’re enjoying yourself.” The first reply that comes to mind is, “YOU HAVE NO IDEA JUST HOW CORRECT YOU ARE!” I don’t think I actually screamed that reply. Maybe I did since she didn’t seem to stay around long? I enjoy the challenge - of trying to control my frustration.
Fatigue. It’s a word I never knew when I was younger. During my mid-years I simply considered the hobby to be good exercise, a great way of staying in shape. This year I’m starting to realize it didn’t work. If I hunt too long these days I often leave the beach feeling like one of those stiff scarecrows you see standing in the edge of someone’s garden or cornfield. Upper arms pointed out, forearms hanging straight down. Luckily I can still get the cap off the Advil.
Foolers. Nothing I love more then to see the glitter of gold in the bottom of my scoop, no real letdown when I notice upon closer inspection that the gold is flaking off. That’s the one nice thing about pull tabs – they present a good mid-tone, they’re easily identifiable to the eye, and there’s no big surprise and no let-down in the end. Sounds like a pull tab, looks like a pull tab, yep, it’s a pull tab. Success all around!
Rough surf & late midnight hunts. I’ll wait to comment on these two issues the next time I’m so bored or so overly motivated that I decide to encounter either of them. Wasn’t always like that but I’ve convinced myself that I’ve just gotten much smarter in recent years. Sort of helps me make sense out of that old saying that with age comes wisdom. Really it simply means; if you’re getting too damn old to handle it then don’t do it. But I like the age and wisdom excuse much better. Low tide is around 2am this morning. Are you kidding.
Yep, I love everything about this hobby.
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But here's what's really starting to wear on me - I'm 5'8", only 140lbs, a full scoop of wet sand weighs nearly as much as I do. 
But it didn't stop me from detecting anymore. I just put my "big girl" pants on the next time that I went out 
