Ignoring the occasional big pole that still comes ashore after a high tide, beachcombing these days is more of a therapy than a harvesting.
Gone are the days of the 10lb. tins of margarine and crates of oranges. A timber boat once went aground off Islay and the length of south facing beaches of Coll could be walked by the plank -literally. And remember all those bales of cotton that ended up adorning the war time interiors of Coll homes and exteriors of needle-handy chailleachs? The African Money, the bottles of whisky buried in the rabbit burrows of the East End so nostalgically referred to in this year's Pantomime?
Rue the day of computerised gizmos that steer ships on a steady line. Of course, lives safe at sea are far more important than the biggest crate of whisky - or oranges, depending on your need - washed up on the shore. But just a wee lurch too steep and the odd bundle of deck cargo used to be any self respecting beachcomber's due.
Now containerised cargo means that the lot goes to the bottom of the sea.
So I content myself with the diminishing driftwood, last year's needleless Xmas tree from Tiree, Frank's storm torn creels (I got a live lobster once) and all the plastic the Atlantic recycles - and recycles and recycles.
And beans ...
Not in crates or polybags or sodden seed packets. Just on their own and very few and far between. One is enough for a lifetime's good luck, they say.
I have one, found on Cliad beach, many years ago. It is 2" by 1 1/2" by 1/2" with an identation on one side giving the dark shiny mahogany-red bean the hint of a heart shape. But I am greedy for more.
Old Gaelic tales refer to these sea offerings as having special powers. An ailing child would wear one as an amulet hanging round its neck as protection against the evil eye and disease.
The bean is, in fact, the seed of Entada gigas, a Caribbean plant of the Mimosa family. Pods are from one to two metres long. Seeds can remain viable in the sea for over two years, transported by the Gulf Stream to Florida and W. Europe, as far north as Scandinavia and Greenland. Over here they are familiarly known as sea beans or sea hearts. The Dublin National Botanic Gardens have successfully germinated them under glass.
Their magical qualities interest me.
Perhaps the wise ancients, on seeing the likeness to a human heart, albeit in miniature, perceived a talisman for the source of all vitality. No one knew where they came from, all those centuries ago; which, of course, added to their strangeness.
Amazingly, at the source of origin, the Caribbean, their special powers are part of contemporary belief. Whilst on a visit to Cuba a couple of years ago I noticed garlands of `bean' necklaces in a gallery of paintings and pottery. A leather thong and pendant wire casing of copper held each bean with the heart indentation uppermost.
"Magic? Yes! Yes! Good Luck!" assured the attendant. In pathetic Spanish/English I tried to tell her about my bean washed up way back on another island on the other side of the Atlantic. The link was fantastic. Magical ...
So that is why I am greedy to find another bean on the tideline of Coll. I dare not try germinating the first one and the Cuban one is far too special.
Should I find that lucky third bean and it flower and pod there will be a big harvesting from the sea at the end of Crossapol beach.
Jack - and Tom and Dick and Harry and the red neck Giant - watch out!

Ref.: R.G.B. Herbarium