I recently took up a hobby that I thought was something I would never be interested in. No, not cross dressing, besides there’s too much photographic evidence for me to claim that as recent or something I would never be interested in. I could start wearing a kilt for that airy feeling of freedom, but I don’t want to be seen as a sellout.

Alright, shake any image you may have of me in a dress out of your head so we can get on with the new hobby story.

My new hobby is rock hunting, specifically Fairburn agate hunting. You wouldn’t think it would be that difficult to hunt a rock since they don’t move very quickly and don’t see particularly well, but Fairburn agates are an elusive lot. Fairburn agates are not just any old rock you would chuck at your brother; they are the official gemstone of South Dakota.

The official name for people who spend hours wandering around under the hot sun staring at the ground and continuously bending to pick up rocks and drop them in disgust is a rockhound. Some refer to them in the abbreviated version, “idiot.”

A friend of mine has been a rockhound for many years and I never understood the appeal. He came up from Missouri last month specifically to search for Fairburns, which can only be found in our neck of the woods, so I went out to keep him company while he roamed around. To be honest I was much more interested in the bottle of rum waiting for us back at camp than some old rock, but friendship is a give and take sort of deal so I endured one so as to enjoy the other.

After about five hours of roaming around on a balmy 108 degree day my friend found a small Fairburn agate about the size of a quarter and seemed pleased, so we returned to camp to rehydrate. He was either pleased with the find or tired of me coming up to him with a rock saying, “Is this one?” Either way we both got what we wanted.

Then one day I wanted to go hiking but didn’t want to just hike for the sake of hiking. I felt like hiking and looking for something. Somehow hiking around aimlessly looking at rocks seemed more appealing than just plain old hiking around aimlessly. So the dog and I set out aimless with a purpose.

We had set out aimlessly on many occasions so there was a palpable excitement in our mood as we set out fueled with purpose. I loaded up everything a man and a dog need to hunt down a rock; sensible shoes, peanut butter sandwiches, some Cheetos, a couple Cokes, a handful of grapes, and a few milkbones. Those rocks didn’t stand a chance.

About an hour after arriving at the rock hunting area of choice, I found a Fairburn agate the size of ¼ pound hamburger patty, before it’s cooked. This isn’t so hard. I wanted to make sure it was a Fairburn so I showed it to another rockhound who was wandering around and I thought I might have to fight the guy to get it back.

He ogled over it like it was the latest issue of Victoria Secret and said it was worth about $275. He was from Illinois and said he’d been traveling to that area to look for Fairburns every few years for the last ten or so years and had never found one. Which explained why he didn’t seem to appreciate my “funny” story about how this was my first time out here and I found a big one in less than an hour. He had that look like he just gave me the finger in his mind.

So now I’m hooked. For me it’s similar to golf, except now I’m supposed to be wandering around looking for something. I’m trying to get my wife and kids hooked as well but until you find that first Fairburn it just seems like a perfectly good waste of time. I’ve wasted time doing things far more unproductive than this.

If you’re ever in the area and want to wander aimlessly with a purpose, I’m your man. I can’t guarantee you a Fairburn, but I’ll share my Cheetos and let you look at my rock. For five bucks you can be in a photo with it.