What begin as a sunny day on the lake with friends searching for a meteorite, quickly turned into a full on fossil frenzy for Jon Ganshorn and his six-year-old daughter Lily. Lily quickly lost interest in the meteorite hunt and decided her time was better spent getting her dad to break apart some of the […]
Save the Date! Forrest’s new book, Once Upon a While, launches November 2nd.
Of note: Forrest intended to leave his car in the parking lot of the Denver Museum of Nature and Science.
Read the enlightening forward by Douglas Preston by clicking the link above. He references Codex, the book he wrote based on his knowledge of Fenn and his plan for hiding the treasure chest.
I read that book early in my search (along with several other of Preston’s suspense/horror novels, and then I read his tale of his retracing of Coronado’s journey north from the border of Mexico.
(Re-)Inspired? Why not shoot for the moon?
Cupcakes, of course.
And from my backyard to yours: A gallery of purple flowers and other wild things to celebrate your 87th!
All the best! I hope to get out west to see you next year.
From the man himself (via Dal’s site):
SUBMITTED JUNE, 2017 by Forrest When I said the treasure was not hidden in Utah or Idaho it has been my plan to not narrow the search area further. But in the light of a recent accident, and in the interest of safety, I feel it necessary to alter that plan. The treasure chest is…
A difference of opinions on the Chase. I’m with Forrest and Dal on this.
New Mexico State Patrol Chief, Pete Kassetas The New Mexico State Patrol Chief wants Forrest to stop the chase. He called it “nonsense” and suggested that Forrest should go get the chest “if it exists”. Pretty insulting, don’t you think? Pete Kassetas is the chief’s name and he seems to be pretty full of…
Reblogged: Another occasional searcher story. “… star-filled night”, etc.
Image credit: abebooks.com
It all started with a book, Coronado’s Children, that recounted (alleged) tales of forgotten treasures in the wilds of west Texas. I first came across it at an early age – maybe eight or nine. And I was immediately hooked, poring over old road maps, drawing anally-precise little Xs on the most likely locations of the concealed bullion and mislaid bags of stolen bank loot. From the sound of it, these riches were stashed in every hollow tree stump and under every rock pile in the region. So I began to scrimp and save, buying a cheap metal detector a few years later. Mail order, no less. I may have wet myself when it finally arrived; bright red control box and coil, a pair of adjustable dials to fine-tune for precise depths and metals (coins, nuggets, ingots), the detection meter with its bouncing needle – it was…
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