bigscoop
Gold Member
- Jun 4, 2010
- 13,513
- 9,034
- Detector(s) used
- Older blue Excal with full mods, Equinox 800.
- Primary Interest:
- All Treasure Hunting
Day 11 and it’s finally happening, a strong tropical depression is finally forming over the Atlantic. From the balcony of his six floor condo he stands in complete silence as his eyes absorb the forming of a dark horizon, the sound of the aggravated waves pounding the shore playing like an orchestra in his soul. For seven straight years he has mad the annual journey from his home in Fort Wayne, Indiana to this section of New Smyrna Beach, Florida coastline. Not more then three hundred yards off shore rest two ships, their cargoes laden with treasure, they are too shallow for deep water recovery vessels and too deep to be recovered from shore, the ocean currents too strong and too dangerous to allow any diving. But they are there, as the many relics and trinkets he has collected over the years standing in testimony. As he peers out over the ocean he can feel the breeze getting stronger, it’s nearing a steady wind now and the ocean waves appear to be growing angrier. A couple more days perhaps, certainly no longer, by that time the sky and ocean should be in full rage.
Sand and coral, perhaps as much as ten to twenty feet of it must be disturbed and redistributed by the angering sea. If that happens, and he is praying that it does, what remains of his two secret ships will become exposed to the swirling water and debris, the many fragments and pieces of those two ships likewise being lifted from their hiding and pushed toward the shore by the powerful forces of nature. The calm after the storm, he thinks to himself, those periods of low tide when a man can gain full access to anything that may have been pushed to shore by the angry sea. In his mind he can see the passing images of gold and silver coins, valuable bottles, and pieces of handcrafted jewelry with giant precious stones. He knows those things are out there because he has found them before on this same section of beach. Very soon now he’ll be given another long awaited chance, the anticipation and waiting almost too much to bear. He takes one last absorbing look at the distant horizon and he knows that day is nearing.
Back in his condo he has laid out all his equipment, a variety of metal detectors, each with a different sized coil so he can better handle any situation that might arise. There are three different scoops, all with long handles and different sized buckets at their business end. On the surface of the desk rest his computer, his sole lifeline that is so important to the task at hand. It is here that he logs each of his efforts in amazing detail, a photographic record of all of his finds displayed in an encrypted file like a highly polished picture book. At night and under an assumed identity he interacts with others who share his interest, the swapping of information and camaraderie an enjoyable pastime during those long lonely weeks when he’s away from home. In the forums he often comes across questions from those just beginning their own treasure hunting journeys and in the worst way he often feels like inviting them to join him so they might share in the excitement of his upcoming hunt, but he also recognizes the risk in doing so and he always refrains from offering them anything beyond good sound advice. Loneliness is part of his chosen lifestyle but he considers it a fair tradeoff in return for the endless adventure life has permitted him. When he finally leaves this place no one will be the wiser, in their eyes he will just be another departing tourist at the end of his extended stay, they will have no idea what he is leaving with and they will have no notion of the many lock boxes filled with treasure that he maintains in various places.
Such is the life of the lone treasure hunter, and there are a few of them out there. In exchange for the life they have been granted they move about from place to place in complete obscurity, the masses never having the slightest clue as to the real purpose behind each of their travels. They have grown accustom to living life under the radar and they gladly accept this condition, not because it’s the way they want it to be, but because it’s the way it has to be. Such is the life of the lone treasure hunter, and his is often a rewarding and an exciting life indeed. Very soon now he’ll be on that secret section of beach he has been waiting to hunt and there will no doubt be those who will look upon him with laughter in their hearts, and that’s exactly the way he wants things to be. After all, it’s ignorance that makes his life possible.
Sand and coral, perhaps as much as ten to twenty feet of it must be disturbed and redistributed by the angering sea. If that happens, and he is praying that it does, what remains of his two secret ships will become exposed to the swirling water and debris, the many fragments and pieces of those two ships likewise being lifted from their hiding and pushed toward the shore by the powerful forces of nature. The calm after the storm, he thinks to himself, those periods of low tide when a man can gain full access to anything that may have been pushed to shore by the angry sea. In his mind he can see the passing images of gold and silver coins, valuable bottles, and pieces of handcrafted jewelry with giant precious stones. He knows those things are out there because he has found them before on this same section of beach. Very soon now he’ll be given another long awaited chance, the anticipation and waiting almost too much to bear. He takes one last absorbing look at the distant horizon and he knows that day is nearing.
Back in his condo he has laid out all his equipment, a variety of metal detectors, each with a different sized coil so he can better handle any situation that might arise. There are three different scoops, all with long handles and different sized buckets at their business end. On the surface of the desk rest his computer, his sole lifeline that is so important to the task at hand. It is here that he logs each of his efforts in amazing detail, a photographic record of all of his finds displayed in an encrypted file like a highly polished picture book. At night and under an assumed identity he interacts with others who share his interest, the swapping of information and camaraderie an enjoyable pastime during those long lonely weeks when he’s away from home. In the forums he often comes across questions from those just beginning their own treasure hunting journeys and in the worst way he often feels like inviting them to join him so they might share in the excitement of his upcoming hunt, but he also recognizes the risk in doing so and he always refrains from offering them anything beyond good sound advice. Loneliness is part of his chosen lifestyle but he considers it a fair tradeoff in return for the endless adventure life has permitted him. When he finally leaves this place no one will be the wiser, in their eyes he will just be another departing tourist at the end of his extended stay, they will have no idea what he is leaving with and they will have no notion of the many lock boxes filled with treasure that he maintains in various places.
Such is the life of the lone treasure hunter, and there are a few of them out there. In exchange for the life they have been granted they move about from place to place in complete obscurity, the masses never having the slightest clue as to the real purpose behind each of their travels. They have grown accustom to living life under the radar and they gladly accept this condition, not because it’s the way they want it to be, but because it’s the way it has to be. Such is the life of the lone treasure hunter, and his is often a rewarding and an exciting life indeed. Very soon now he’ll be on that secret section of beach he has been waiting to hunt and there will no doubt be those who will look upon him with laughter in their hearts, and that’s exactly the way he wants things to be. After all, it’s ignorance that makes his life possible.
