Derek Johnson tosses his line into Elm Creek, eager to catch whatever may be hiding below. The water is calm, the level low.
He stands on top of the dam and slowly pulls in the line. It drags, and for a moment he feels a rush of anticipation.
Maybe he’s got something.
A delicate dance begins as he slowly maneuvers the line. Disappointment sets in. There’s a certain way the line feels; he’s experienced enough to know that whatever he’s pulling, it isn’t what he wants.
“Probably a log. Or a rock,” he calls over to his fishing buddy, Andrew Bauer.
“You hung up?”
Johnson shakes his head. “I got it.”
Johnson can’t afford to lose what’s on the end of his line: a double-sided neodymium magnet that can pull up to 1,200 lbs. It weighs just a few pounds and is attached to a long nylon rope, tied around Johnson’s waist.
This isn’t regular fishing. It’s magnet fishing. Think: metal detecting, but in the water.
JOHNSON and Bauer call themselves treasure hunters.
They drop their powerful magnets into creeks and rivers, pulling up rusted metal objects lost to the current of time.
Most of the items they find are probably worthless, they admit. And they’re almost always in very poor condition, caked with decades of mud and rust.
But it’s not so much the value of the items that matters.
It’s the surge of adrenaline they get from finding that needle in a haystack… or rather, in this case, the needle in a muddy river bottom.
“I’m not really an outdoor guy,” Johnson said. “But the first time I started pulling a big hunk of metal out of the water, I loved it. Water, especially when it’s flowing, is a different beast. It’s got a mind of its own.”
“It’s definitely a rush when you pull something up that you know is really old,” Bauer said.
