bigscoop
Gold Member
- Jun 4, 2010
- 13,376
- 8,704
- Detector(s) used
- Older blue Excal with full mods, Equinox 800.
- Primary Interest:
- All Treasure Hunting
"Marooned"
That's what it felt like today, like I had been marooned on some distant tropical island. It all began early this morning, arriving at the nearest parking area fully packed and ready for the very long hike to that special beach where I seldom find anything worth the effort. So why do you do it then,” I'm often asked? My standard reply, “For the same reason men climb mountains, because they are there.”
What can I say, it's one of my special places, my own little piece of paradise, one of the many challenges that men often accept for no apparent rhyme or reason. My favorite tree stand never produced a deer but it was comfortable with a fantastic view and I liked it. Men do these things, don't ask us why.
Anyway, after the long walk to the designated area I was already half-way whipped, hungry and in desperate need of a snack. No problem, snack-time is quickly becoming one of my favorite events during a hunt so I opened the small cooler and began choosing at random from the well-arranged finger-food smorgasbord. Italian meatballs, Bing cherries, a few pieces of pealed shrimp, Ritz Crackers and old world Swiss Cheese, suddenly it was time for my second most favorite event of the hunt. The nap! And so the huge beach towel is rolled out right at peak low-tide and the next thirty minutes are spent quietly regaining my energy. My God, how I love a good metal detecting adventure. An hour and a half later I'm up again and ready to hunt for treasure!
At this point in the hunt my mind is refreshed and recharged and my instincts and hearing are razor sharp. Not a likely event, but as I slip on the headphones I'm fairly certain that I could easily detect a sand flea farting at eighteen inches. The beach here is is wide and vast, the sand still being deep and soft, at the end of the Excal sits a 12 x 15 coil to insure that I can cover a lot of ground at the maximum depth possible. As I take off swinging my machine, scoop slung over my shoulder, I'm pumped with excitement and reeling with anticipation, this is an old beach with an obscure bit of history, images of ancient trinkets revolving in my mind. An hour into the hunt I'm not only looking for any sign of life but also for any sign of habitation, both past and present. So far, not so much as a sand flea fart. At that moment what I wouldn't have given for just one faint pull tab tone, a bobby pin, a rusted nail, a tiny speck of canslaw. Another hour passes and I'm suddenly starting to recognize what it must have been like for those victims of shipwrecks who found themselves castaways on a vast expanse of desolate beach. And that's when I realized why I come to this isolated section of distant beach, so I can aimlessly walk about the beach in complete silence quietly reminiscing about ancient events and artifacts without being disturbed. “Why.” you ask? Because one day I will be here and I will finally get a tone on something fantastic. It's here, I just know it, on this same desolate, peaceful stretch of beach where I never find anything. Just another day marooned on a beach where it seems life has failed to exist.
That's what it felt like today, like I had been marooned on some distant tropical island. It all began early this morning, arriving at the nearest parking area fully packed and ready for the very long hike to that special beach where I seldom find anything worth the effort. So why do you do it then,” I'm often asked? My standard reply, “For the same reason men climb mountains, because they are there.”
What can I say, it's one of my special places, my own little piece of paradise, one of the many challenges that men often accept for no apparent rhyme or reason. My favorite tree stand never produced a deer but it was comfortable with a fantastic view and I liked it. Men do these things, don't ask us why.
Anyway, after the long walk to the designated area I was already half-way whipped, hungry and in desperate need of a snack. No problem, snack-time is quickly becoming one of my favorite events during a hunt so I opened the small cooler and began choosing at random from the well-arranged finger-food smorgasbord. Italian meatballs, Bing cherries, a few pieces of pealed shrimp, Ritz Crackers and old world Swiss Cheese, suddenly it was time for my second most favorite event of the hunt. The nap! And so the huge beach towel is rolled out right at peak low-tide and the next thirty minutes are spent quietly regaining my energy. My God, how I love a good metal detecting adventure. An hour and a half later I'm up again and ready to hunt for treasure!
At this point in the hunt my mind is refreshed and recharged and my instincts and hearing are razor sharp. Not a likely event, but as I slip on the headphones I'm fairly certain that I could easily detect a sand flea farting at eighteen inches. The beach here is is wide and vast, the sand still being deep and soft, at the end of the Excal sits a 12 x 15 coil to insure that I can cover a lot of ground at the maximum depth possible. As I take off swinging my machine, scoop slung over my shoulder, I'm pumped with excitement and reeling with anticipation, this is an old beach with an obscure bit of history, images of ancient trinkets revolving in my mind. An hour into the hunt I'm not only looking for any sign of life but also for any sign of habitation, both past and present. So far, not so much as a sand flea fart. At that moment what I wouldn't have given for just one faint pull tab tone, a bobby pin, a rusted nail, a tiny speck of canslaw. Another hour passes and I'm suddenly starting to recognize what it must have been like for those victims of shipwrecks who found themselves castaways on a vast expanse of desolate beach. And that's when I realized why I come to this isolated section of distant beach, so I can aimlessly walk about the beach in complete silence quietly reminiscing about ancient events and artifacts without being disturbed. “Why.” you ask? Because one day I will be here and I will finally get a tone on something fantastic. It's here, I just know it, on this same desolate, peaceful stretch of beach where I never find anything. Just another day marooned on a beach where it seems life has failed to exist.
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......never thought about that....but perhaps the next time. Sort of a, "one with the beach" thing. Which sunblock do you prefer? 
