To Go or Not To Go . . .

Posted on September 1, 2013 by waterhigh

I knew I would regret it all winter if I didn’t get out West for my first TTOTC search, but where was my back up: my husband couldn’t get away; a brother just laughed; my friend needed more notice.

(Really a diaper bag)

So, I just did it. Found a back pack that could easily carry a bronze box, water, and bear spray. Flashlight. Check. Whistle. Why not? GPS. No. Forrest’s book. Definitely.

Packed the car. Took off. It’s amazing how much ground you can cover at 75 mph. The vast, flat, empty Nebraska disappeared in a blur. Made it to Ogallala the first night. Then came eastern Wyoming. Hillier. Also mostly barren. Until the mountains start looming up out of nowhere.

I headed north and stopped in Chugwater, site of an old buffalo jump, a museum (closed), and the state’s oldest soda fountain.

Since it was 105 degrees F, I indulged in a delicious chocolate malt after wandering the outdoor exhibits.

From there I headed for Buffalo and the Big Horns via Casper. On the way I took a quick peek at Register Rock and the Oregon Trail ruts near Guernsey. (See Stephanie’s coverage at her blog ‘What’s A Chase’.)

I passed the reservoir at Glendo, water low, where many ancient layers of rock are visible. Saw a couple antelope roaming, and a couple raindrops made it to my windshield. Fort Fetterman was Closed as was the GlenRock Museum. (It’s not even Labor Day yet, folks. Not that I minded the lack of crowds on the highways, etc.) I also saw the bright red gash where they’re cutting Red Mountain for the rock.

At Kaycee I took in the Hoofprints of the Past museum, which had an outstanding number of arrowheads on display. Down the street was a large bronze of a rodeo rider/singer.

I picked up a book on Wyoming’s geology at the museum in Buffalo. Also, helpful was the museum in Worland, Washakee. I tried to memorize the various ages/layers of stone by color and texture. ( Like, where are the dinosaur fossils, the oil, the ocean beds–a visible geologic clock.)

Tensleep Canyon

The most stunning visually is the Tensleep layer, a swirly red and cream, which I saw coming down out of the Big Horns. BTW, there’s a beautiful Meadowlark Lake up there in the woods.

Meadowlark Lake

Are the Big Horn Mountains part of the Rockies? Until I hear otherwise from Mr. Fenn, I’m not ruling them out.

[To be continued. . . .]

“Sell it all; hit the road”

Posted on August 20, 2013 by waterhigh

Here’s an idea (not everyone can/would choose):

Sell it all; hit the road.

But just imagine how much searching one could do . . . .

Ready, set, . . . .

Forrest Fenn’s Treasure Chest

A Rumor of Gold

Posted on May 23, 2013 by waterhigh

The Hand of Faith, the largest gold nugget in the world. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Just what does it take to abandon family and the comforts of home? Dreams of adventure? Fortune? Fame? Maybe just a dare. Or a failure of common sense, as in buying lottery tickets? Oops. Not you, of course.

I guess I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for a great-grandfather that had that something. He sailed from Denmark and ended up in Cripple Creek, Colorado, at the right time. According to a great-uncle, he found a large gold nugget. Great-grandpa also knew when to say “Basta”, enough. (Yes, that’s Italian, not Danish.) He sailed back to Denmark and returned with his bride. They bought a farm in the midwest and lived happily ever after. Actually, I couldn’t say; I never met him. The same great-uncle also claimed we were related to the Danish royalty. I told my kids that even if they were princes and princesses, they still had to do their chores. There was no one left to ask whether it was true or not. (I wrote a novel based on that nugget; maybe 15% truth, tops. 85% lies and imagination. Surprising to readers which parts are actually true.)

Worth the Cold

That something seems to have been passed down through the generations, so much so that one child I’ll refer to as Intrepid. She decided it would be fun to take a high school class that combined biology and phys ed credits, and spent a 3-day weekend in February(! ) camped on a frozen lake in the Boundary Waters on the Canadian border.

Why I looked on the internet for the weather report, I don’t know. I saw that instead of a low of 0 degrees F, a front came through with 40 mile an hour winds and 20-something below temps. I didn’t sleep that night.

Not THE blaze

She’s also the one who phoned home one night from a trip to the wilds of Alaska to tell us not to worry about the forest fire. She had to hang up then so the other kids could call and scare the heck out of their parents. Not until we got her photos developed did I realize how serious it was. Not the kind of blaze any TOTC searcher wants to run into.

I suppose I had a bit of that something as well. Once, I went west with a friend in a VW bug to visit a former co-worker who’d moved to Colorado.

We thought we’d see the sights while there, so ended up hanging in a cable car over the Royal Gorge. I turned to her to tell her that I was getting off, not enjoying the view while terrified, but, too late. The door slammed shut. At least I made it across without screaming or fainting. Oh. Back to the story.

Trailblazing. I was the navigator. I love maps. We’d visited the Air Force Academy, been down as far as Pueblo, and wanted to get back to Denver or Boulder or somewhere. I saw a short-cut. It was right there on the map. No name. No number. It appeared to be paved. So, we took it. Before long, we started seeing jeeps. Army jeeps. And other things. Low buildings. Low flying jets. Who knows. Soon, one of the jeeps with 2 or 3 guys in it, came up to us. We stopped. They asked what we were doing or where we were headed or how we ended up there. I explained. I showed them the map. They gave us an escort. I followed them right up the road I’d planned on. Saved several miles. I don’t think I’d be alive to mention it if it happened these days.

There were other things I didn’t mention to Intrepid until she was older, like sleeping on a picnic table in Tennessee on the way back from a Florida camping trip—different friend, spring break sort of thing. Intrepid comes up with enough ideas of her own. I’ve got a few gray hairs to show for it. She’s too tied up these days to venture west on a rumor of gold. Maybe I can get an older child interested.

Surprising the reactions I get when I mention Forrest Fenn‘s The Thrill of the Chase treasure hunt. Nobody thinks it’s real. That’s okay. I’m a firm believer in the Fenn formula. Somebody’s going to find it. And all the other TTOTC searcher’s are having fun. (Though some of you might need to slow down…..you, know. Basta.)