Here’s a link to an OUTSIDE article that lays out what is currently known about the finding of Forrest Fenn’s hidden chest.
And there’s this more comprehensive recent article from the UK, The Daily Mail:
Announcement and messages on Dal’s site, here.
He passed just a day after many of his searchers gathered in West Yellowstone for a Finale, since he announced in June that the treasure had been found. I’ll share photos of that later, but for now, just pausing to remember his legacy.
Adventure Arrowhead blaze brave Butterfly Clues Colorado dinosaur earthquake Fishing Flying Forrest Fenn Gold gold nugget Heavy Loads History Important Literature Journalism Lewis and Clark marvel gaze Montana Nature no paddle Photography Poetry Rocky Mountains Santa Fe tarry scant The Thrill of the Chase Too Far To Walk Travel treasure treasure chest Treasure hunting treasure poem trove TTOTC Vietnam War warm waters water high West Wyoming Yellowstone Yellowstone National Park
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.
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…
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.
Photographic images verifying that the chest was found and the turquoise and silver bracelet is on Forrest Fenn’s wrist again. The LINK.
The bracelet is unique in that the beads are mounted flat. A lot of history there.
Again, congratulations to the finder of the chest!
Details to come.
I for one can’t wait to learn the meaning of each of the clues that so intrigued me for the last several years. I hope the person who found it, who for now wishes to remain anonymous, will share DETAILS. So curious as to what led him to the precise spot.
Thank you to all 485 followers on WordPress and the 85 who followed this blog via email. It was fun to create a blog and see what happened. The Fenn Diagrams will remain up until my annual paid fee expires early next year. Then I think if goes to a free version and loses the formatting. Adds may appear before it floats into oblivion.
I’ll post links to the updates as they are posted. Imagine you are all as curious as to who and and how as I am. It’s been a joy. Thanks again.
Visitors from around the world:
About the time I shot this photo, my friend, masked and gloved, was ushered into the meat freezer at the grocery store west of here. As she says, tornado warning trumps social distancing.
All is well. Take care.
An option while sheltering in place — Take a class. Dip your toe (or brush) in something you wouldn’t ordinarily do.
Because a very talented artist is now teaching her watercolor class on-line, I’m able to participate. I took a class once, about 18 years ago, and love the medium, (although I have very little intrinsic artistic ability.)
Some things we do for the joy of it.
The artist : Kaitlin Walsh
If you’ve ever heard of, or studied from, Netters (Atlas of Human Anatomy), you’ll appreciate her gift of painting the beauty of what is human.
This class is about painting animals. Lesson One: Jellyfish.
[I share this work from Thursday evening, because it’s probably hard to fail on a jelly fish. Yes, I know, it needs more background, a finer brush, a lighter touch.]
But … don’t expect anymore from me. Next week, a bird. A lot more parts. And after that, no idea.
In any case, it’s fun, messy, soothing, surprising.
A water high.
What began as a birthday gift from Mr. W in late 2018, has kinda taken over. Coolest invention, that Flow Hive, or so I remarked, and Voila! It appeared.
Some (entire) assembly required.
So, after a two-day bee-keeping class, lots of reading, and acquiring the appropriate protective wear, (I convinced my doctor that maybe I should have an Epi pen because it’s a long way to a hospital), I ordered my bees.
And, yes, there was a certain amount of trepidation as I drove home with twenty thousand in the back seat. Brave…
After a cold, wet spring, they took off. Gangbusters. Prairie blossoms galore.
Bountiful. More honey than the bees needed. Where to put said treasure?
Beg, borrow and seal any available bottles.
(Those cute little jars fit in the box my children made for me for Christmas. (See next photo of exotic colored woods. They are nowhere large enough, but I will keep some of each vintage in that treasure box.)
Next, drain and strain, and there you go.
The new gold standard?
[Maybe I can trade it for toilet paper in these unusual times.]
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