This may be the sort of repetitive, mainly solitary activity you intrinsically enjoy … or it may bore you to tears.
I am a novice detectorist myself. And this guide reflects the expertise of about a dozen sources, including company reps from Garrett, Nokta, First Texas (maker of the Bounty Hunter), specialist retailers like Kellyco and metaldetector.com, as well as input from a whole bunch of dedicated hobbyists.
This guide owes much of its authority to the generosity of Alan and Sandy Sadwin, who took me under their wing and into their world to help me understand the technology, techniques, and ethics of metal detecting. Both are passionate detectorists and longtime members of the Atlantic Treasure Club, Long Island’s oldest metal-detecting club (of which Alan is a former president). They spent hours of their time sharing their knowledge and helping me begin to get a grasp on the hobby as a whole as well as on the specific machines we selected for testing. Many other members of the club also welcomed me when I attended a monthly meeting in February 2020, and they similarly shared their advice and opinions.
Who should get this
For every story like the one about the guy who found an Anglo-Saxon hoard important enough to rewrite history, there are thousands of folks who spend years finding nothing but bottle caps. The actual process of treasure hunting is, quite frankly, time-consuming, monotonous, and rarely rewarded with truly special or valuable finds. That doesn’t mean it’s not fun. And who knows—you just might find some gold in them thar hills. But before you lay out the cash it takes to get started, you’ll want to know whether treasure hunting is right for you.
That’s why our first bit of “buying advice” isn’t about buying anything—not yet, anyway. Contact a local club or store, and ask if you can attend a meeting or be put in touch with a committed detectorist who might take you out for a trial hunt. Many clubs also hold occasional public events to encourage the curious to give detecting a try. If you’re friendly, patient, open about your interest, and willing to learn, you'll likely find someone to give you some hands-on guidance. And be honest with yourself: If the bug doesn’t grab you after a trial hunt or two, metal detecting may not be your thing. If it does grab you, you can look forward to many adventures, including specialized detecting trips—there are specialist tour operators in the US and UK who secure the rights to search farms and other private land. On the night I joined a meeting, one couple at the Atlantic Treasure Club had just returned from England, where they’d found a medieval gold coin and a silver one from the British Roman era.
It’s probably more accurate to describe detecting as a sport rather than a hobby, in that mastering it means mastering the equipment, techniques, and rules. There’s a fairly steep learning curve to the machines themselves, which are complex and fallible electronic devices. It takes time to understand how they work, where and why they can fail, and how to coax the best performance out of them. And though the techniques aren’t terribly complex, you do have to get them right to make your detector work well.
But there’s another way metal detecting is like a sport. The great writer John McPhee once wanted a synonym for the word sport and found this definition in an early-20th-century edition of Webster’s Dictionary: “a diversion of the field.” Metal detecting is certainly that.
There’s also a general mindset we witnessed when talking to happy detectorists: that they were in it as much for the act of searching as they were for finding something amazing. Alan and Sandy usually search Long Island’s Jones Beach, where not much of great monetary value ever shows up. (Though Alan did once reunite a high schooler with her lost class ring, a discovery that also busted her to her mom—she’d been strictly forbidden from going to the beach.) But instead, they regularly see porpoises, dolphins, and sharks in the waves, as well as the endangered piping plover nesting in the dunes. I loved watching sandpipers darting in and out as they followed the surf, showing intrigued youngsters what I was up to, and simply escaping my apartment’s walls. I once apologized to Alan for taking up so much of his time, and he said, “Don’t. You’re my excuse to get out there and have fun.” No matter what you find—or whether you find anything, period—enjoying the outdoors is an intrinsic pleasure of metal detecting, and not one to discount.
by Tim Heffernan, Wirecutter | Read more:
Image: Sarah Kobos
This guide owes much of its authority to the generosity of Alan and Sandy Sadwin, who took me under their wing and into their world to help me understand the technology, techniques, and ethics of metal detecting. Both are passionate detectorists and longtime members of the Atlantic Treasure Club, Long Island’s oldest metal-detecting club (of which Alan is a former president). They spent hours of their time sharing their knowledge and helping me begin to get a grasp on the hobby as a whole as well as on the specific machines we selected for testing. Many other members of the club also welcomed me when I attended a monthly meeting in February 2020, and they similarly shared their advice and opinions.
Who should get this
For every story like the one about the guy who found an Anglo-Saxon hoard important enough to rewrite history, there are thousands of folks who spend years finding nothing but bottle caps. The actual process of treasure hunting is, quite frankly, time-consuming, monotonous, and rarely rewarded with truly special or valuable finds. That doesn’t mean it’s not fun. And who knows—you just might find some gold in them thar hills. But before you lay out the cash it takes to get started, you’ll want to know whether treasure hunting is right for you.
That’s why our first bit of “buying advice” isn’t about buying anything—not yet, anyway. Contact a local club or store, and ask if you can attend a meeting or be put in touch with a committed detectorist who might take you out for a trial hunt. Many clubs also hold occasional public events to encourage the curious to give detecting a try. If you’re friendly, patient, open about your interest, and willing to learn, you'll likely find someone to give you some hands-on guidance. And be honest with yourself: If the bug doesn’t grab you after a trial hunt or two, metal detecting may not be your thing. If it does grab you, you can look forward to many adventures, including specialized detecting trips—there are specialist tour operators in the US and UK who secure the rights to search farms and other private land. On the night I joined a meeting, one couple at the Atlantic Treasure Club had just returned from England, where they’d found a medieval gold coin and a silver one from the British Roman era.
It’s probably more accurate to describe detecting as a sport rather than a hobby, in that mastering it means mastering the equipment, techniques, and rules. There’s a fairly steep learning curve to the machines themselves, which are complex and fallible electronic devices. It takes time to understand how they work, where and why they can fail, and how to coax the best performance out of them. And though the techniques aren’t terribly complex, you do have to get them right to make your detector work well.
But there’s another way metal detecting is like a sport. The great writer John McPhee once wanted a synonym for the word sport and found this definition in an early-20th-century edition of Webster’s Dictionary: “a diversion of the field.” Metal detecting is certainly that.
There’s also a general mindset we witnessed when talking to happy detectorists: that they were in it as much for the act of searching as they were for finding something amazing. Alan and Sandy usually search Long Island’s Jones Beach, where not much of great monetary value ever shows up. (Though Alan did once reunite a high schooler with her lost class ring, a discovery that also busted her to her mom—she’d been strictly forbidden from going to the beach.) But instead, they regularly see porpoises, dolphins, and sharks in the waves, as well as the endangered piping plover nesting in the dunes. I loved watching sandpipers darting in and out as they followed the surf, showing intrigued youngsters what I was up to, and simply escaping my apartment’s walls. I once apologized to Alan for taking up so much of his time, and he said, “Don’t. You’re my excuse to get out there and have fun.” No matter what you find—or whether you find anything, period—enjoying the outdoors is an intrinsic pleasure of metal detecting, and not one to discount.
by Tim Heffernan, Wirecutter | Read more:
Image: Sarah Kobos
