Treking the sands of the City by the Sea, I’ve seen finds that mystify me.

Among the metal detectorists I encountered was Gary, who, in 2016, showed me this beauty: a 3.67-carat diamond worth $55,000.

Detector Gary tried to find the owner of the gem by reporting it to the police and having a jeweler run its registry number in a computer check, but no owner was detected.

Gary said that if someone doesn’t claim a find after four weeks, it belongs to the finder—like Gary.

Gary found the ring on a beach in East Hampton. Why would its owner not report the gem’s loss to the police? Did a furious fiance throw it at her lover and storm off the beach?

Was she so incensed that she didn’t care?

Or that she couldn’t be found—anywhere.

The gem and the finger upon which it once nestled are still a mystery.

In 2019, I encountered Lenny, who reported that he had found an old gun in the sand.

Lenny found this gun on a Long Beach West End beach.

Murderers often toss guns into the briny deep for a safe keep.

But the shore is not static; it constantly shifts; shoals become holes, and sandbars roll with the littoral currents. Did countless tides and storm-tossed seas move the gun as it would please?

What could be the story behind this gun?

Was it tossed after a mob whack?

Along with remains—in a burlap sack?

Indeed, a mystery.

If you want to get in on it, beachcombing, not mob whacking, this site advises first trying the beach’s towel line and areas around lifeguard towers and leaving the open spaces for last.

The towel line is usually the high point just before the surf. It’s often the place where people lose their “stuff,”—like diamond rings.

What could be better? You’re under the sun, stretching your legs, and having fun. You might even come upon a local mystery:

My neighbor, Sue, gave me one for you:

Our mutual neighbors, Chris and his wife, Kris, enjoyed a summer day of bliss.

They were on our Long Beach sands last July 1st with their tots, Olivia and Amelia.

When it was time to leave, her parents asked Olivia where her Crocs were. Olivia, then two, said, “I hid them.” When asked what that meant, she said, “I buried them.”

Chris told me, “We started digging but couldn’t find them anywhere. That evening, I went back alone thinking, how far could a two-year-old bury Crocs? I ended up bumping into Sue, who was right near the area we had been earlier. I told her the story, we had a good laugh, and she promised to keep an eye out.”

He said, “We bought Olivia new Crocs, and our neighbor, Joann, even got her another pair.”

Chris said,  “Then, on January 26th, 2025—seven months later—Kristina got a text from Sue with a photo of Crocs and a message asking, “Are these the ones?”

Chris said, ‘I was sure they couldn’t be. We were so far up the beach and nowhere near the water. But after Kristina showed me picture after picture—and once we had them in our hands—it was clear: they were the original hiding Crocs.

Chris said, “Now Olivia has moved on to new Crocs, and Amelia proudly wears the rediscovered Crocs.”

When I spoke with Sue, she said she was walking the beach on Jan. 26th and couldn’t believe her eyes. There, at the top of the slope that runs to the sea—the towel line—were the two Crocs she had hunted—last July.

We laughed at how they survived the sand rake machines that cleaned our beach daily, how they survived so many tides pulling over them, and how the winter Noreasters had not scooped them to the sea.

From what I’ve read, the tides, the rain, and the wind help bring things like the Crocs to the surface at the towel line. But Chris and his family were not camped there that summer day. Chris had told me, “We were so far up the beach and nowhere near the water.”

Maybe Olivia dug near the sea—to better create her mystery.

Be well,

Leebythesea

Maybe, on another day, you might want to view life’s darker side, where I shed some light.