Treasures found, opportunity lost to deep waters

In the breezy profession of beachcombing it is true that what is treasure to some is mere dross to others. When the find is a message in a bottle obscured by driftwood at the high-tide mark, there can be no dispute. Messages of forlorn love, of secrets long held, impending maritime disaster and more take leave of one hand to ride the ocean, to beach and lie dormant, until plucked by another’s in an act of revivification. There is always the delicious possibility that the sender will, with the help of intermediaries, unite with the intended finder. When I discovered a stash of letters and maps from treasure finders, buried and quite forgotten in a secure Hobartian vault, I was surprised that the senders did not share the finders’ excitement.

With eyes close to the sand, children are the best finders, and the best drawers of treasure maps. Adults tend to adapt existing maps, but not always. These maps carry the elation of their find to people far away they do not know but feel impelled to trust. Many years later I am touched also.