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.
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.
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.
On Summer Seas (1916)
The National Park Service was created one hundred years ago. Yellowstone preceded that, being designated in 1872. And once upon a time, I dreamed of being a forest ranger. My imagination had me up in a tower in a sea of green trees–a rather narrow view of the current job description.
Glacier National Park
One of the more unique rangers we’ve met was dressed to the hilt as a French voyageur and remained in character, impressing our youngest. I think there was even bread baking involved.
1868 Quetico Superior Route, Passing a Waterfall by Frances Anne Hopkins (Scene showing a large Hudson’s Bay Company freight canoe passing a waterfall, presumably on the French River. The passengers in the canoe may be the artist and her husband, Edward Hopkins, secretary to the Governor of the Hudson’s Bay Company.) (public domain)
That national park was the site of the Rainy Lake gold rush in the mid-1890’s. Northern Minnesota is not the first place I’d think of when searching for gold. Better odds, maybe, of finding Forrest Fenn’s treasure chest.
Forrest Fenn’s Treasure Chest
I won’t be making it to this year’s Fennboree, but if I could, I would take a moment in Santa Fe to get a look at an ancient wrought iron gate on East Palace Avenue, the site where dozens if not hundreds of scientists, mathematicians, and physicists, after meeting with gatekeeper Dorothy McKibben, disappeared from sight beginning in April 1943.
(Well, first I might stop at that French pastry shop at La Fonda where Amy bought those gorgeous treats for Forrest’s book signing last September.)
Said portal transported those invited to the site of the Los Alamos Ranch School on a mesa in New Mexico. You probably know (part of) the rest of the story, but for me, I learned a lot from a book called Bomb, by Steve Sheinkin, my newest favorite non-fiction author. Wow. He used to write textbooks for schools but kept notes on all the things they wouldn’t let him put in–fascinating stuff I should have learned. Sheinkin puts it together in a compelling and quick read. (Young Adult level but hey, who’s got time for an academic treatise these days?)
So back to the story: the race between the Americans and the Germans to develop the bomb; some very, very brave Norwegians on a mission; the spies who wanted to steal the plans for Stalin; the guys who just wanted to give it to the Russians so there wouldn’t be only one superpower in possession of the new and terrible weapon of mass destruction.
When I was young, my ideas of Russian spies were partly based on Boris and Natasha, and hearing intimations about the McCarthy era excesses. Somehow my public school history classes never got much past the Civil War by the end of the school year, hence the black holes in my knowlege. (No, that’s not a typo; it’s spelled Fenn’s way.)
[Side note: There was a Rocky and Bullwinkle episode titled Buried Treasure. Hmm. Frostbite Falls?]
I could also rave about Sheinkin’s newest book, Most Dangerous: Daniel Ellsberg and the Secret Viet Nam War. I have no excuse for not knowing or remembering more about the topic, having been of school age when it was in the newspapers, except that the facts didn’t all make it into the media at the time. I wish that weren’t still true. History gives us perspective if we’d only choose to look at the parallels in our own day. Does your view of Ellsberg color your impression of Snowden? What caused Benjamin Arnold to switch sides? Had you even heard of the Port Chicago 50?
Do you agree with Abraham Lincoln?
(Check out Steve Sheinkin’s other books like King George: What Was His Problem? or The Port Chicago 50: Disaster, Mutiny, and the Fight for Civil Rights or Lincoln’s Grave Robbers, etc.)
Couldn’t help it.
It just happened when I walked inside.
I’m sure I’m not alone.
Angel Fire, New Mexico
Time on the water, priceless. Home again? Also priceless, but busy. I was north. I was east. Was I west, “in the mountains somewhere north of Santa Fe?” No, darn it. Not yet. But this bronze reminded me of the drawing in the Thrill of the Chase book.
Another great thing about the road trip? Listening to the audio version of The Black Count, a true story about Alexandre Dumas’ pere by Tom Reiss. Fascinating. The Count of Monte Cristo was one of my first favorites. I read an old copy found in the attic. Next best was the 1998 French miniseries of it starring Gerard Depardieu. I didn’t mind the subtitles, it was so engrossing. And now to learn how so much of it was based on his own father’s experiences (including hidden treasure), enlightening. Also, it explained a lot of the history of the French revolution/devolution/rise of Napoleon, areas my education was thin on.
Minnetrista
So, my treasures when I arrived home? A lawn turned to meadow, wild blackberries to forage, and a garden exploding with cukes, beans, and tomatos, etc. Now that the pickles and jams are in the cupboard and the beans and tomatos in the freezer, except for the awesome salads Caprese and salsa verdes and, well, you get the idea.
Jungle garden
Intrepid came to visit and fortunately she loves to pick berries, dig potatos, etc., just happy to be outdoors. She’s begun her fourth (and purportedly toughest) year of residency. Six twelve hours days on for a month, then six twelve hour nights for a month, then same at a different hospital, rinse, wash, repeat…. I’d help her if I could. The least I can do is give her organic veggies. 
So it’s December 20th and I still hadn’t submitted an entry to the contest over on Dal’s site. Better late than never, right? But before I headed out back, I checked the rules once more—hand made of found, natural items—and thereby saw the awesome competition. Fantastic ornaments.
{Results are in. Congrats to the talented winners!}
Okay, so clearly I’m not winning this thing but since Forrest is mailing every entrant a bona fide arrowhead from his collection, I’m not not entering. (BTW you still have time to enter, too.)
I planned on making bells somehow out of pine needles since I hadn’t come up with any other ideas. You know, Snoopy’s “Christmas bells, those Christmas bells, ringing through the land, Peace on earth and good will to man.”
I booted and bundled up. It wasn’t long before the hike took its own course. I got to a pond that was just icing over, bubbles trapped below the surface, took some photos, and proceeded along the frosty edges. 
While I took more pictures, the outline beneath the surface finally registered. Yikes. An alligator snapping turtle? It was in shallow water. Is it hibernating? Is it even alive?
A little farther on, I found another one. It’s much bigger, older cousin maybe. I didn’t see them this summer, but often enough in summers past to paddle carefully and not tip over the canoe.
Add those beasts to my list of frightening things. (Spiders, snakes, prions, and, I forgot to mention, cougars. One’s been sighted again within twenty miles of here. Yes, really.)
Anyway, on my way to the white pines, I found some twiny, viny stuff for binding, red berries for color, wild grape vines for fun, and all manner of prairie grasses. A thought started to form in my mind. Hmm. One of Forrest’s treasured possessions is Sitting Bull’s Peace Pipe. Still running with the Peace theme, it began to take shape. But just in case, I continued to the pines and grabbed cones and needles—brown from the ground, green from the branches torn off by the White tail deer who just love destroying the young trees when their antlers itch.
So, here’s what I brought in the house.
Here’s what I came up with. (See the authenticated original here.)
“IMO” (very important words on Dal’s blog) this ornament is small enough and light enough to go on a Christmas tree. I could prove it, except our tree isn’t up yet.
In fact, it’s still alive and well in the back yard, a beautiful Frazier fir that we planted maybe 7 years ago. Maybe tomorrow Mr. W will saw it down and bring it in while I bake cookies. Company’s coming. I’m not usually this far behind, but it’s hard to say no sometimes.
Besides, I’m “having too much fun!”
Play day.
A week and a half late but a perfect day for it.
(Inre: Warm waters/Putting In— I made a less than graceful re-entry after the picnic lunch. I need more practice.)
Monarch Butterfly Danaus plexippus Purple Coneflower 3008 (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Monarchs everywhere lately!
Once the harvest is over, I may have more time for the Chase.
Just Ducky
So. We were going to celebrate 35 today by taking the kayaks out. A little rain never stopped us. (It’s not like it’s a ‘gully-washer’ or ‘toad-drownder’, as our OK friends would say.) Thunder and lightning, ( or ice,) though, is another story.
Kulusuk, Greenland. The old and the new: kayak ontop of a dogsled. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
But, as an old man once said (everyday of his life), “It’s a good day for it.”
Maybe. Maybe it’s a good day for frogs, toads, and other hoppy things.
Froggy Serenade?
Too Far To Walk
Yep, and later we might go out for pizza.
“No man ever steps in the same river twice, for it’s not the same river and he’s not the same man.” –Heraclitus
Ephesus on the coast of Asia Minor, birthplace of Heraclitus (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Wrong turn? Road not taken?
“Life should not be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside in a cloud of smoke, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, and loudly proclaiming “Wow! What a Ride!”
― Hunter S. Thompson
Rainbows make me smile.
The pot at the end of Forrest Fenn’s Rainbow? I’d be more than smiling.
Forrest Fenn’s Treasure Chest
A rare morning rainbow in the desert graces my campsite one morning on the Baja Peninsula, Mexico. Click for purchase options.
With springtime right around the corner, the weather in many areas, including here in the Pacific Northwest, will be ‘unsettled’, prime conditions for one of my favorite things: rainbows! Throughout the world’s temperate regions in fact, the change of seasons that is about to happen results in clashes of warm & cool air masses. That means frequent showery weather and a sky that’s often broken into clear and cloudy parts. When the sun is relatively low in the sky, whether morning or late afternoon, and there is precipitation in the area, you’ve got the perfect setup for rainbows.
By the way, all these images are copyrighted and not available for free download without my permission. They are small versions anyway. Click on the image you’re interested in to go…
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