I enjoy listening to this fount of wisdom. Interview here.
This may be as close to closure that we searchers will come. For now, anyway.
I’m happy to hear his story and understand his desire to remain anonymous, but a certain litigant and judge have made that impossible.
FYI. Dal is shutting down his site, The Thrill of the Chase. (A current message from Shiloh today.)
Dal has made Forrest’s Scrapbooks available to anyone who wishes to download them.
And now, let’s let Fenn and his family rest in peace.
Not everyone got the same thing. Door prizes. This was mine. Love it.
It’s going in the map chest Mr. W altered for me to store my arrowhead collection in.
I would love to have chosen the signed book, Seventeen Dollars a Square Inch, about artist/renaissance man Eric Sloane, but my number was called too late for that gem, or Copper Dan’s magnificent art pieces.
Much appreciation to those whose efforts made the event possible. I was looking for closure in the form of the true solution to the clues in the poem, but that’s not looking likely at this point.
All in all, what a great Finale. Rest in peace, Forrest Fenn.
Finale = the close or end of something (Merriam Webster.)
Getting There —
West Yellowstone —
Searchers (not “finders”) gathered for a weekend of fun.
Going Home —
Not until we were well on our way home, just ahead of the massive snow storm, did we hear the news of Fenn’s passing.
One treasure found. One treasure lost.
Maybe, maybe not.
West Yellowstone and Yellowstone Park.
Cynthia is orchestrating it. Dal is presenting. Toby is streaming it. Fun and games. Picnic. Brunch. And mixing it up at Bullwinkle’s.
Details at this Link.
Also, your chance to be in a legacy group photo (socially-distanced, of course) on the Fishing Bridge.
Don’t be late.
A story almost a hundred years old. A soldier, wounded inside and out, walks out of a facility and, in time, finds healing.
Jump to today. Same story. New name.
I’m only in my second year of beekeeping but I get it.
Bees are mesmerizing. So organized, with a uniform goal of survival and yet independent.
And share with us such sweet rewards.
The photo of Forrest Fenn looking over the contents of the found treasure chest shows, in my opinion, silty sand around the rim of the open box. Like what you’d expect if it had sat in a river bed for ten years or so.
A line from the poem includes “There’ll be no paddle up your creek, just heavy loads and water high.” I’ve used Water High as my screen name, I chose it quickly when setting up this (my first) web site.
After that, during my endless investigations while trying to solve the clues in the poem, I learned that navigable waters are public property, even when they flow through private property. Definitions of such are subjects of interminable legal battles, such as the recently-overturned claim by the EPA that if a rainstorm leaves a puddle, it falls under their jurisdiction as a waters of the USA, blah, blah, blah.
What piqued my interest was how the edge of the river is determined. The river is deemed “public” land, up to the “high water mark.” Relevant, yes?
I imagine the chest was in a river bed, somewhere below the high water mark, making it legally on public land.
Verification? May be never, may be soon.
From another poem, once carved in stone in Wisconsin:
It may be never, it may be soon,
But I hope that it will be one afternoon.
I’ll hear a step on the creaking stair.
I’ll open the door, and you’ll be there.
It’s a start. A new message from Forrest Fenn reveals the treasure was hidden and found in Wyoming. That was my first solve.
Can’t wait to learn more someday.
The message below is posted on Dal’s site: The Thrill of the Chase.
SUBMITTED June 6th, 2020 by Forrest The treasure has been found It was under a canopy of stars in the lush, forested vegetation of the Rocky Mountains and had not moved from the spot where I hid it more than 10 years ago. I do not know the person who found it, but the poem…
Dee A. Robb. July 2020 Blessings. Some sneak up on you like a cat who’s curled position on the bed warms your feet in the awakening cool of the morning. Others come loud and rushing, a fierce pounding on the front door. The UPS man delivering. There are those you yearn for, anxious and hopeful, […]
So far, I hear, 23 people have claimed to be the treasure finder in communication with Forrest Fenn. One of them apparently has such strong feelings that the chest belongs to her that she filed a lawsuit. Her name is Barbara (not Karen) and is from the Midwest.
Back in 2014, when I did some Q & A with Forrest for this blog, he said he’d take me to his San Lazaro pueblo, his archeological dig. But, by the time I made my next trip to New Mexico, for a book signing event, it didn’t get arranged.I always wondered why. [By then Cynthia and Jenny K (and Dal, of course) were the direct line of communication from Fenn to the searchers. No problem. Forrest always told me I was too far away.]
Through the gossip mill–yes, there are a lot of rumors out in the searcher community–I thought I might have learned the reason for the “Chill” of the Chase.
Also from the Midwest.
Who may or may not have been kinda stalking Forrest.
I sure hate to think that I missed out on the experience because of some other Barbara’s misbehavior.
They’re giving Karens, I mean, Barbaras, a bad name.
And Brians. And Davids. Click here.