This recovery was hard graft.
Larissa got in touch after losing her diamond engagement ring while walking with her partner and the dog on the Te Haumi mudflats. She remembered having it after leaving the car, but noticed it was missing on their return.
The challenge: They had covered an expansive area with several key ‘ring loss’ factors, including pulling her jandal(flip-flop) out of a deep hole of ooze, throwing seaweed for the dog, and all on top of the distance they had walked.
I met Larissa and her partner to go over the scenario. Unfortunately, the tides were wrong on the day, so we couldn’t positively identify any specific areas. It would come down to systematically covering the area, grinding away.
Over the next few weeks, I repeatedly made the journey to Paihia to continue and extend the search. Given the area, it was very unlikely someone had randomly picked it up—I just needed to get the metal detector coil over it. Easier said than done. It’s a game of inches – if the coil doesn’t pass over it, the ring may as well not be there.
Te Haumi is absolutely littered with corroded fragments of drink cans and general metal trash. I removed and binned a kilogram of rubbish in one search alone.
By utilizing drone survey mapping after each search, I was able to progressively exclude potential areas until only two options remained:
a) It had been lost where Larissa either pulled her jandal out of the muddy hole, or
b) It wasn’t here at all (i.e. it was picked up, or her recollection was incorrect).
A) was by far the most likely, based on experience, so I focused on this area.
It was extremely hard going.
Probably in the top five of where I mentally wanted to give up. However, the statistical probability of a successful recovery was too great.
I was convinced the ring was here, I firmly believed the ring was here – I just needed to hear it.
Over the decades, the density of aluminium and similar rubbish meant that it had naturally concentrated in this area with all the loose small shells and mud. Each visit left yet another bag of metal rubbish in the bin. (I work on the principal that if you dig it, you’re now responsible for it).
I had to remove anything that could interfere with a potentially very deep signal of a fine gold ring at the bottom of a muddy hole surrounded by rubbish.
After over 40 hours spent searching on repeated visits, I was down to removing tiny aluminium rivet heads from the many boats that had grounded over the years. Every one had to be checked, as the ring could have been very deep and give a similar signal.
And then, after oh, so much rubbish, a deep signal—no longer masked by corroded beer can fragments, foil chocolate wrappers, and old pennies (and a lone mid-1800’s musket ball), it was a clean sound, a smooth sound.
Potentially the sound that my work could be over.
The signal was in unconsolidated sediments—soft mud. The sort of place you could inadvertently step into and lose your jandal…
Then, from 30cm down, Larissa’s gold and diamond engagement ring returned to the daylight.
Over 20,000m² covered, 46Hrs on the coil and roughly 2.7kg of rubbish removed.
End result: Another irreplaceable ring returned to its rightful finger.
And that’s what matters to me.
I was hanging out by my fire pit when I saw the huge shadow of a cicada trying to land on my shoulder.
