Just a hint of colour had crept into the leaves of the trees. The fresh water beaches were vacant. No rugrats throwing rocks. No young teens playing catch and trying to use a detectorists head as a backboard. No questions needed to be fielded. Gingerly the Sea Hunter MK11 was removed from the trunk. Assembled the black clad detectorist took to the water. Ducks and seagulls alike gave way to the detectorist who swung with a practised swing learned over many years. The deserted beaches on the agenda were ones that "Orca " seldom visited. A lucid bliss had settled in the heart of the detectorist who lamented, day dreamed and thought of swishes past. Of the detectorsits no longer with him. Coins appeared in the sieve . More coins then a few keys. Time to move on as no more gratifying sounds where heard in the headphones.
On the beach the detectorist bent down and picked up discarded toys. Toys that not long ago been the focus of young ones frolicking on the beach.
How many sand castles and moats had these "tools" dug the detectorist thought.
Another location. More coins. The swisher looked to the sky as he swung. Figures of loved ones passed, of dragons and maps etched in silver lined clouds. The detectorist knew that one more location had to be visited. He rubbed his swollen knee thinking of days gone by when Navy Davy and he could swing for 12 hours and still want more. Quota was but a warm up.
The final spot.
It was not far from here where the then young digger dug up the ancients. A puzzle. A conundrum with no solution. 203 AD Carthaginian in Nova Scotia! A shudder ran through his veins. He had almost thrown the oddly shaped pieces into the middle of the lake.
Just 8 more coins were needed by the detectorist for quota. He slowly entered the water trying not to disturb a flock of ducks that were preening: to no avail. The four beeps of the Seahunter told the swisher that it was ready....more so then the aged operator. He struggled as an absurd thought nagged him. What? Just what if a heart attack embraces him! A familiar sound emitted from the headphone and that thought was pushed to the back of his mind . A quarter was staring up at him from the sieve. The ducks and the seagulls stared at him from afar. All seeming to know that the detectorist had reached quota.
The trip back to his vehicle seemed to be slow and arduous as he dodged the thorn bushes, mud holes along the fence line hoping the knee would not be injured on a slip. The wet suit was removed and the swinger stood naked behind his vehicle knowing that no one was around. Warm dry clothes were put on and the aged detectorist reflected..... thought of his better half....the warmth.
Once safely in his humble abode the detectorist counted his booty.....50 plus at $14.39 thrown into his bucket of dreams.
His eyes were failing so he used the magnifying lamp to examine the snake ring that he had found on a short hunt the previous day......on land where he was to spend the rest of this season with his bud. The bud, who like him was starting to feel the ravages of time.
God grant us another year to pursue this passion!
Posted 09/10/2013 9:27 pm
