How A 3200-Mile Loop Became a 4000-Mile Crazy 8 (The End)

Posted on September 16, 2013 by waterhigh

When I wished Forrest Fenn a Happy Birthday, I mentioned I was in Cody. He asked about my search and by Saturday, when I was halfway up/down the Gallatin, he invited to meet him for a cup of coffee. Wow, I thought.

Now, I’d told my husband I’d be home by Friday, unless I found the chest and needed to swing by Santa Fe to return a bracelet to Mr.Fenn. Hmm.

I could do both if I knocked off a visit to a hot springs and a great restaurant I had reservations at. Hmm.

I’d also brought my book hoping to get it signed if the opportunity presented itself. Hmm.

“Life is short and getting shorter” said Mr. Fenn. Hmm.

Mr. W’s phone was off on Sunday. By the time I got ahold of him, I’d already flown by Billings, Casper, Laramie, and was maybe nearing Denver.

“Cool,” he said. I told him he was invited, too, but he’s still busy supporting my hobbies.

Serendipity. A southern suburb with a gas station, a car wash, and across the street, a great steak salad for a late lunch. I didn’t recognize anything of the Denver I knew in the mid-80’s.

Back on the road, it was dark when I passed through the mountains north and east of Santa Fe. I had reservations on the west side and thought I’d have no trouble finding the Fenn estate the next morning.

Wrong. I plugged in the address but it wanted to send me about 12 miles back east of town. Time was getting short, so I stopped at a place I was sure could help: The Collected Works Bookstore.

Fortunately, the guy at the desk knew it was only a couple miles away, and gave me a start in the right direction. Museum Hill would be ‘too far’. That’s where I turned around, but at least I’d passed the correct address.

(Was anyone else a bit claustrophobic with the narrow streets, adobe walls, and one way streets in old Santa Fe, or is it just that I’m used to seeing horizons?)

I turned in the drive and pushed a button. The gate opened and I pulled forward. I grabbed my book and camera, and hoped the big dog was friendly.

Yes, those are Post-Its in my book.

Mr. Fenn met me at the door, and I was escorted into the big room, familiar because I’d seen Dal’s pictures: the wooden Indian by the fireplace, the ancient books on the shelves, the buffalo skull. Bells. Baskets. Beautiful things.

He was curious about my search; I was curious about everything. The time flew. Then, I took a couple pictures, he signed my book, and a “homely girl” got a kiss. No. How does it go? I mean, smile. (Is it too late for braces?)

I headed home with my treasures. Amarillo, Tulsa, St. Louis, Bloomington…..

Friday evening, I was greeted with a vase full of roses, happy chickens, and fresh peaches on the tree. More treasures. They don’t all fit in a chest.

Life is good.

Wandering in Wyoming (Part Two of Trip One)

Posted on September 5, 2013 by waterhigh

My sights were set on Montana, but I had time to check out (parts of) Wyoming. The state is a collection of mountain ranges and basins. I knew I couldn’t cover it all. Had to scratch off Como Bluff and it’s dinosaur bone house—but it’s not open to the public anymore.

I planned to cover the Big Horn Canyon/Yellowtail Reservoir on my way home, but there was a huge change of plans along the way. So, where did I leave off? Worland.

In the morning I headed for Cody. First up, the Buffalo Bill Dam in Shoshone Canyon where I met Buck, a volunteer at the Visitor Center.

Buck

Wonderful, interesting, happy guy who served his country well.

After that, back into Cody to visit an historic church which the gracious man of the collar opened to me. It has an ancient Wurlitzer organ, of interest to few, but special to me. I told myself I wouldn’t refer to the church by its nickname, but there it was, on a bronze plaque right outside the door….

Downtown for lunch at the Irma Hotel. I gazed in the mirror and looked quickly down, to no avail. I also picked up a neckerchief in case that would be of help in some deciphering I’ve been trying to do.

After lunch I hit 4 out of the 5 museums at the Buffalo Bill Historical Center where I saw a fetching Fechin, the pre-sale artworks of many talented people, Plains Indian artifacts, natural history exhibits, and so forth. I skipped the Firearms Museum this time as Mr. W wasn’t along. (Been there, done that.)

Supper. A double rainbow. Discovered it was FF’s birthday, so I sent him best wishes and a note on my (lack of) progress.

Next up? I had reservations in West Yellowstone, the Gallatin Valley, and a certain hot springs over the next few days, but . . . .

Wyoming cabin made mostly of petrified dinosaur bones (trib.com)
Day Five: A exciting ride off of Big Horn Mt. (nickm94.wordpress.com)

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. . . .]

Gators in Minnesota ! ? ! ? !

Posted on August 31, 2013 by waterhigh

Gators in Minnesota ! ? ! ? !

{Just so you know, I toss a gator in the moat before I leave home.}

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Alligator surprises boys fishing on Minn. lake (metronews.ca)

Alligator Season Set to Begin (wtok.com)

Hilton Head woman bitten by alligator (thestate.com)

Couple catch live alligator in Joplin pothole (stltoday.com)

Wisconsin Wit

“An alligator that surprised two boys fishing in a Washington County lake was shot dead by a Minnesota Department of Natural Resources enforcement officer, but another alligator remained on the loose Thursday.”

This was necessary because, as the DNR officer explained, “alligators don’t belong in Minnesota lakes and have no business alarming anglers.”

The search for Bonnie continues. You already know the name of her dead partner.

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“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

“One of These Things Is Not Like the Other”

Posted on July 31, 2013 by waterhigh

SESAME STREET*Google (Photo credit: COG LOG LAB.)

I’ve got that Sesame Street song in my head. It’s been laying tracks for a while now–the subconscious working on the conscious.

“One of these things just doesn’t belong. . .”

Result: I’ve come to the conclusion that no way were the Fenn’s hungry enough to eat meadowlarks during the Depression. The father had a college degree, steady employment, and apparently, plenty of fish and potatoes. Besides, who would go to all that trouble. I’m going to attribute that to the 15% of the memoir he made up, and add it to the list of questions I’d love to ask him someday. Like, when I drop off the bracelet. (I wish.)

So. Why is that story in the book? Four meadowlarks and a scissortail.

“Can you tell me which thing is not like the other . . .”

Full houses in poker (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Why are four cards and a joker mentioned? Why are there four nuggets and a frog, and a coin, sitting on the map?

“. . . Before I finish my song?”

English: Pot of gold under post! Consolation prize after a soaking. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Or at least before I head west for The Thrill of the Chase.

A visit to the book factory (hotkeyblog.com)
Pic Shows End Of The Rainbow (No Pot Of Gold) (now100fm.cbslocal.com)

Riches New and Old…

Posted on June 10, 2013 by waterhigh

Something Old

We just celebrated a 90th birthday in the family. One of the “Fennster’s” has a newborn. Treasures all.

Get a new hat, custom fit.

If you head west in search of the chest this summer, remember to enjoy the sights along the way—just in case you don’t go home with the gold or bronze. Find some other nuggets or gems to share.

At least take some pictures so when you approach 90, you’ll have something to jog your memory.

Old barn in an ancient valley

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.)

Serendipity

Posted on May 21, 2013 by waterhigh

The morels and asparagas already gone, I wandered a washed field on Mother’s Day afternoon and found a trove of arrowheads, mostly pieces. Like gold and fish, they are where you find them. I think luck plays a part, but also some logic and imagination. To find Forrest Fenn’s The Thrill of the Chase treasure, it will take all of the above. And research. He says the lucky finder will be able to walk right to it, deliberately.

And so, we seekers continue our research and refine our plans. A simple Venn diagram (see Wikipedia) is a series of overlapping circles yielding useful data. A Fenn diagram is going to look more like a flow chart

Flowchart (Photo credit: BWJones)

branching off each time a clue has more than one solution. There are so many diagrams because no one knows where to begin. Well, we might think we do.

I thought at first it would be a simple fill-in-the-blank game. Decide where the warm waters halt, where to put in, and what the blaze is. Okay. But ‘halt’ has many meanings, likewise ‘warm waters’, even ‘warm’. And then you start to wonder, what does ‘it’ even mean!

A couple weeks ago, I came up with an utterly unique answer for “where warm waters halt”. This week, I even found a butterfly connection.

So, maybe the Chase isn’t keeping me away from the internet, but it has gotten me into the library, especially the history section. Here’s to all your discoveries made along the way. Enjoy.