I enjoy listening to this fount of wisdom. Interview here.

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.
Searchers (not “finders”) gathered for a weekend of fun.
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.
Yes.
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.
Fishing Bridge from below
A story almost a hundred years old. A soldier, wounded inside and out, walks out of a facility and, in time, finds healing.
Shell shock.
Jump to today. Same story. New name.
I listened to a podcast recently about a group (begun) in Texas called Hives for Heroes. Commendable. Give it a listen. They are also on Facebook and at Hives for Heroes . com.
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.
Intrepid
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?
A beach with water lines
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…
via THE CHEST HAS BEEN FOUND!!!!…part fifteen — Thrill Of The Chase
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.
[NOT San Lazaro]
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.
Another Barbara.
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.
Warning!
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!
Forrest Fenn’s Treasure Chest
Click this.
Details to come.
Forrest Fenn’s Treasure Chest
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:
Good Friday Remembrance
My great-grandmother’s grandfather was an artist. Not sure when he was born, but her mother was born in 1837 in Braunschweig.
On the back of the drawing is a tempera (?) painting of the Wetterhorn alp from the glacier-filled valley at Grindelwald.
Have a blessed Easter.
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.
Edgar County Watchdogs
I used to think that I had an answer to everything and wished that people would ask me the questions. Now, as I find myself aging, I know I don't have any answers and hope that people don't ask me any questions. .
peace, poesis & wild holy earth
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