One steamy august morning back in two thousand and three, ten members of the Metal Detecting Association of the Carolinas embarked on a quest to find the old Tuckaseegee Ford. This historic river crossing had been used since the seventeen hundreds by both military and civilian travelers alike. The ford existed during both the revolutionary and civil war periods of our history. It was the only crossing for miles. When the river was up and too rapid to make a safe passage, travelers would camp along the river banks sometimes for days waiting for the water to receed. Research of the site also revealed that a powderworks used by the Confederate army (until it exploded) was located nearby the ford. Frank, one of our club members, had previously reached the site by boat and found several colonial era coins and buttons. This promised to be a great hunt and we had come prepared to spend the whole day in the woods detecting.
Unfortunately we didn't have access to a boat that morning and were going to hike in. We did have GPS coordinates for the site that Frank had recorded from his previous trip and also some topo maps of the area. It was starting to drizzle as we gathered our gear from our vehicles and started out on what looked to be about a two mile hike. According to the maps, a large powerline right of way was our easiest route in. After a good three quarter mile jaunt down the powerline I consulted my handheld GPS and we headed west into the thick woods that lay between us and the river. It wasn't long until we came across a heavily used deer trail heading in the same direction as we needed to go.
Although very narrow, the trail offered much easier hiking than through the briar tangled woods, especially since we were lugging our detectors, shovels and other gear. On we marched, single file down the narrow path for what seemed like a mile or so. The rain had begun to turn the trail into mud and it was sticking to our boots making them feel like lead. The last quarter mile seemed like two as we finally reached the waters edge.
Spreading out, we started searching the river bank. I decided to work my way further up the hillside in hopes of finding one of the old campsites. I eventually reached a likely looking spot higher up the hill that was fairly level and shaded by several large hardwoods. I spent the next hour detecting the area, completely engrossed in the hunt. I had finally got a signal, a small flat coat button. Although it wasn't a military button I was glad to have found it. It was quite deep and looked to be very old. I couldn't wait to get back down the hill and show the others my find.
I excitedly made my way back down to the river, slipping and sliding on the wet leaves. When I got to the bottom I didn't see anyone, not a single soul. "Hey" I shouted. "Charlie, Russ where are you guys"? No answer. I didn't know which way or where they had gone but I was sure that they would be back sooner or later. The rain had all but stopped and I decided to set down on a log and eat lunch while I waited for them to return.
Another hour or so passed and I realized that maybe the guys weren't coming back after all. It was starting to rain again and I decided that it was time to head back up the trail. The trip out was mostly uphill and slow going because of the slippery mud. By the time I had reached the powerline right of way, my legs felt like rubber bands due to my mud caked boots. It felt like I was wearing concrete blocks instead of lightweight hiking boots. "Old age must be catching up with me" I thought to myself. I thought that I was in decent shape when we left out that morning. Now I found myself wondering if I could even make it back to the truck. The remaining three quarters of a mile hike to get back to the truck was going to be a painful one. The detector and backpack got heavier with each step and I was forced to stop every few feet to scrape more mud from by concrete shoes. By the time I reached the parking area my legs would barely function and it was all that I could do to work the clutch and brake pedals to drive. Everyone's vehicle was still there so I knew that they were still in the woods. I was glad that they weren't there to see how exhausted and gave out I was. I didn't want them to think that I couldn't take it. I had left my cell phone in the truck and it started to ring. It was my buddy Charlie. Can you come get us? he asked. "We are all worn out"he said. "My legs are killing me. I don't think I can make it to the truck". "You are kidding me, right?" I asked him. "No we all want you to bring your truck down the right of way and pick us up." I knew that there was no way that my two wheel drive truck was going down the right of way without getting stuck and I told him so. "We'll pay you!" he pleaded. "At least hike back down here and help us carry some of our gear". "Sorry Charlie, I can barely walk myself." I informed him. "See ya, wouldn't wanna be ya." I said as I hung up the phone.
Well they all made it out eventually. Everyone was sore for a couple of days but that was the worst of it. This hunt was an adventure that we'll never forget and is often brought up during our club meetings. It is always referred to as the day of the "Forced March" and we have a lot of fun telling the story to our newer members. Sometimes the hunt holds more value than the finds.
Unfortunately we didn't have access to a boat that morning and were going to hike in. We did have GPS coordinates for the site that Frank had recorded from his previous trip and also some topo maps of the area. It was starting to drizzle as we gathered our gear from our vehicles and started out on what looked to be about a two mile hike. According to the maps, a large powerline right of way was our easiest route in. After a good three quarter mile jaunt down the powerline I consulted my handheld GPS and we headed west into the thick woods that lay between us and the river. It wasn't long until we came across a heavily used deer trail heading in the same direction as we needed to go.
Although very narrow, the trail offered much easier hiking than through the briar tangled woods, especially since we were lugging our detectors, shovels and other gear. On we marched, single file down the narrow path for what seemed like a mile or so. The rain had begun to turn the trail into mud and it was sticking to our boots making them feel like lead. The last quarter mile seemed like two as we finally reached the waters edge.
Spreading out, we started searching the river bank. I decided to work my way further up the hillside in hopes of finding one of the old campsites. I eventually reached a likely looking spot higher up the hill that was fairly level and shaded by several large hardwoods. I spent the next hour detecting the area, completely engrossed in the hunt. I had finally got a signal, a small flat coat button. Although it wasn't a military button I was glad to have found it. It was quite deep and looked to be very old. I couldn't wait to get back down the hill and show the others my find.
I excitedly made my way back down to the river, slipping and sliding on the wet leaves. When I got to the bottom I didn't see anyone, not a single soul. "Hey" I shouted. "Charlie, Russ where are you guys"? No answer. I didn't know which way or where they had gone but I was sure that they would be back sooner or later. The rain had all but stopped and I decided to set down on a log and eat lunch while I waited for them to return.
Another hour or so passed and I realized that maybe the guys weren't coming back after all. It was starting to rain again and I decided that it was time to head back up the trail. The trip out was mostly uphill and slow going because of the slippery mud. By the time I had reached the powerline right of way, my legs felt like rubber bands due to my mud caked boots. It felt like I was wearing concrete blocks instead of lightweight hiking boots. "Old age must be catching up with me" I thought to myself. I thought that I was in decent shape when we left out that morning. Now I found myself wondering if I could even make it back to the truck. The remaining three quarters of a mile hike to get back to the truck was going to be a painful one. The detector and backpack got heavier with each step and I was forced to stop every few feet to scrape more mud from by concrete shoes. By the time I reached the parking area my legs would barely function and it was all that I could do to work the clutch and brake pedals to drive. Everyone's vehicle was still there so I knew that they were still in the woods. I was glad that they weren't there to see how exhausted and gave out I was. I didn't want them to think that I couldn't take it. I had left my cell phone in the truck and it started to ring. It was my buddy Charlie. Can you come get us? he asked. "We are all worn out"he said. "My legs are killing me. I don't think I can make it to the truck". "You are kidding me, right?" I asked him. "No we all want you to bring your truck down the right of way and pick us up." I knew that there was no way that my two wheel drive truck was going down the right of way without getting stuck and I told him so. "We'll pay you!" he pleaded. "At least hike back down here and help us carry some of our gear". "Sorry Charlie, I can barely walk myself." I informed him. "See ya, wouldn't wanna be ya." I said as I hung up the phone.
Well they all made it out eventually. Everyone was sore for a couple of days but that was the worst of it. This hunt was an adventure that we'll never forget and is often brought up during our club meetings. It is always referred to as the day of the "Forced March" and we have a lot of fun telling the story to our newer members. Sometimes the hunt holds more value than the finds.
That brings back memories! When your mud cacked boots start weighing about 10lbs each, it can really "weigh" on you.
