Mango Lucky (6 page)

I stopped and swung the detector over the area that produced the beep. It beeped again, confirming that something was there, buried in the sand.

I was hoping it would be a gold coin or perhaps a diamond necklace.

I positioned the pointed edge of the sand scoop over the target location, pushed the scoop bucket down with my foot, and removed six inches of sand.

Shaking the scoop left to right, I let the sand sift out through the small holes in it, until I heard the distinct rattle of metal in the bottom of the scoop.

That would be my treasure.

Bringing the scoop closer, I looked to see what I had found.

It wasn't treasure. It was a fishing leader line with six lead weights on it.

Not gold. Not silver. Not diamonds.

I was disappointed. No treasure.

But on the bright side, I had found something. And that proved that the detector was working.

I put the leader line in the plastic trash bag I was carrying, stretched my arms, then picked up the detector and continued my search down the beach.

Over the next hour, my detecting skills got better and I found several objects. Almost all were fishing related. Hooks, lead weights, and a large fishing lure.

I was happy to be finding things, but still hadn't found the treasure I was looking for.

As I detected, I kept my eyes focused on the sand directly below the detector. And that turned out to be a mistake.

I should have been checking the sky back behind me.

I realized this when I finally stopped for a water break. Turning back toward the pier, I could see angry looking dark clouds rolling my way. The north wind had turned colder and was picking up strength.

I'd been walking south on the beach for more than three hours. And during that time, I'd probably covered three miles or more.

With the low storm clouds on the horizon, it was time for me to head back to the safety of the Love Bus.

If I metal detected all the way back to the pier, it'd take roughly the same amount of time it took me to get to this far - about three hours. And then another fifteen minutes to get back to my camp site.

Based on how fast the storm front looked to be moving, I didn't think I'd have three hours. I might not even have one hour.

20

As I started back toward the campground, I could see that the storm was approaching even faster than I thought. The dark cloud bank, rising high into the sky, was moving quickly.

Far up the beach, I could see a heavy mist, perhaps rain. This meant I was likely to get wet before the day was over.

Rather than waste time, I turned off the detector, pulled off the headphones, and started walking as fast as I could through the soft sand.

With each step, I kicked up a rooster tail of sand, much of it filling my shoes. Every few minutes, I had to stop to dump the sand out.

Soon this wouldn't be a problem. The rain in the distance, along with the incoming tide, would turn the soft sand into a wet slurry. And with each step, the heavy wet sand would stick to my shoes like mud.

The rain came on me suddenly and with an unexpected intensity. Driven by the wind, and cooled by the high clouds, the drops felt like pins and needles on my bare arms and legs.

I was soon soaked to the bone. And the rain didn't let up.

As I slogged onward, the rumbles of thunder got louder, and the flashes of lightning became more frequent. As the storm intensified, I could feel an electrical charge building up in the atmosphere.

The rain and thunder didn't worry me. I'd been out in in worse conditions many times before. But the lightning was a real concern.

Being the tallest thing on the beach, and carrying a metal detector and a four foot metal scoop, I had become a walking lightning rod.

I knew I needed to get off the beach as quickly as possible, but I also knew the only way off was the way I had come.

There were no structures on this stretch of the beach, no houses or shelter of any kind to get under. Just the sandy beach in front of me, the Atlantic ocean to my right, and mangrove swamps over the dunes to my left.

My only option was to continue north toward the fishing pier. And into the rapidly advancing storm.

To reduce my lightning profile, I hunkered over, moved closer to the dunes, and drug the metal scoop on the ground behind me.

As I walked, I started thinking what it would have been like to be one of those survivors of the Spanish fleet caught up in the hurricane of 1715.

They washed up on this same beach. And under similar conditions. Driving rain, heavy wind, thunder and lightning.

But it would have been much worse for them. They were in an unknown environment, exhausted and banged up from fighting hurricane enraged seas. Dumped on a desolate section of beach with no chance of rescue.

They had no food, no fresh water, no marked trails to follow, no protection from the elements.

In comparison, I had it good.

All I needed to do was to continue walking north, and I'd eventually reach the end of the beach, and from there it would be just a short walk to my campsite where I had dry clothes, plenty of food, and a shelter from any storm.

I trudged onward, feeling slightly better about my situation.

The rain continued to come down hard, the wind blew stronger, and I got wetter and wetter.

I'd given up any attempt to clean the sand off my shoes. It was a losing battle. So with each step I was carrying what felt like ten pound weights around my ankles.

Finally in the distance, through the rain and mist, I could see the flashing lights on the fishing pier. This meant I was getting closer and closer to my destination.

My spirit buoyed, I picked up my pace and eventually made it to the slippery rocks that marked the edge of the beach and the path leading back to the campground.

The path led me under the north A1A bridge. And that's where I paused to take temporary shelter. Resting for a few minutes, I took the opportunity to clean the sand and mud off my shoes.

Being under the protection of the bridge, I was thinking I could stay here, and wait for a lull in the storm before I ventured back out.

But the storm seemed to be getting stronger. The lightning strikes were coming more frequently. And if the storm continued to increased in intensity, I might get stuck out here through the night. In wet clothes, no food, and a chilling wind. It wasn't something I was looking forward to.

If I continued on though the rain and lightning, I'd soon be back in the warm shelter of my motorhome. And could have a hot meal soon after.

That sounded a lot better than spending the night under the bridge. So it was decided. I was going to move back out into the storm. And get back to the Love Bus.

Leaving the protection of the bridge, I trotted across the now flooded parking lot, and made my way to the road leading to the campground.

I kept my head low, moving as fast as I could.

Just as I reached the center of the road, a huge clap of thunder sounded directly overhead. And almost immediately, I could feel the tingle that signaled an imminent lighting strike.

Looking in front for immediate shelter, I saw nothing. The heavy rain obscured my vision. I was about to turn back for the safety of the bridge, when a loud car horn sounded directly behind me.

I turned to see an older white Toyota Land Cruiser wagon. It pulled up beside me, the passenger window rolled down and the driver yelled, 'Get in!'

21

The driver was a woman. She looked to be in her mid thirties. Black ball cap on her head. Green rain jacket, black cargo shorts, hiking boots.

Smiling, she said, "You looked pretty miserable out there."

I nodded, "Yeah, I was. Thanks for stopping. I was afraid the lightning would get me."

The driver introduced herself. "I'm Anna. And it looks like you're here for the same reason I am."

She pointed at the metal detector I'd put in the back seat.

"Yeah, I was hoping to find some treasure. But no luck today."

She laughed. "No, it's not a good day for detecting. And it's not the right beach for it either. They've just re-nourished it."

"Re-nourished it?" I asked.

"Yep, the county paid millions of dollars to dump two feet of new sand on that part of the beach. That means if there were any treasures to be found, they're now under another two feet of sand."

I nodded. And then started to shiver in my cold wet clothes.

"You need to dry off. You camping here or do you have a car nearby?"

"I'm camping. Staying for a week."

"So am I. Where's your campsite? I'll drop you off."

"First row, overlooking the river."

"I guess that makes us neighbors then. I'm on that row too. "

I nodded. Too cold to respond.

Anna slowly drove into the camping area, the wipers frantically trying to keep up with the rain. As she got close to my site, I pointed, "Over there. In the motorhome. "

She pulled up and said, "You haven't told me your name."

I held out my wet hand, "Walker."

She smiled, "Glad to meet you Walker. Like I said, I'm Anna, And I'm camping over there. In the tent.

She continued, "Tell you what. Before you go back out on the beach, come over and I'll give you some tips on where to find treasure."

I nodded, "I'll do that. And thanks for picking me up. I was drowning out there."

I dug into my pocket for the keys to the motorhome, grabbed my metal detector and then instead of climbing out, I asked, "Are you allergic to cats?"

22

"Allergic to cats? No. Why do you ask?"

"Well I was thinking of asking you over for dinner tonight. But I've got a cat with me. And some people are allergic to cats . . ."

Anna laughed, "Hold on hot shot. You're asking me to dinner?"

"Sure, why not? You just saved my life. And we both have to eat, and I've got plenty of food, and it'll be dryer inside the motorhome than in your tent."

I waited for her reply.

"Anyone else in there with you?"

"No, just me."

"You married?"

I shook my head, "Nope. Single."

"You running from the law?"

"Again, no. None of that. I just thought since you rescued me, it would nice to invite you over for a meal.

"But it's okay if you say no. Me and Bob will just eat alone. Inside, where it's warm and dry."

"Who's Bob?"

"He's the cat. His full name is Mango Bob. And he's quite the character."

Anna smiled, "So let me get this straight. You're a single guy, living in a motorhome with a cat. And I'm not supposed to think that's strange?"

I shivered in my wet clothes and reached for the door. "Anna, I'll be eating dinner around six. You're welcome to join me."

I opened the door, grabbed my things and made a run for the motorhome, the rain coming down hard.

Anna was still sitting in the idling Land Cruiser as I unlocked the motorhome and stepped inside.

23

Coming in from the rain, the first thing I did was pull off my soggy, sand encrusted shoes. No need to track muck throughout the Love Bus.

Next, I stripped off my clothes, left them in a pile at the door, and padded back to the shower. I moved Bob's litter box out of the stall and turned on the hot water heater.

A few minutes later, I climbed into the shower and let the warm water roll down my body.

If you've ever lived an extended period of time without running water or without the availability of a hot shower, you know that hot showers are one of the greatest luxuries in life.

Ask anyone who has gone without, and they'll agree.

I stayed in the shower until the water changed from hot to warm, then climbed out and dried off.

Remembering that I might have company coming over for dinner, I shaved, changed into clean clothes, and tidied up the bathroom.

Still weary from hours of metal detecting, I flopped onto the couch, and rested for a bit. While laying there, I realized I hadn't seen or heard from Bob since my return.

A clap of thunder from the storm overhead reminded me why. Bob does not like thunder, and at the first rumble, he'll run for cover.

I'd have to look for him later to be sure he was okay.

I was tempted to call Sarah and let her know how the treasure hunting trip was going, but decided against it. She had told me she needed time to herself, so calling her might not be such a good idea.