Interpretations…

My intent was to blog the trip as it happened.   Mountains don’t like electronic service much.

The poem…  Forrest tells us there are 9 clues.   Let’s go stanza by stanza and “discuss”.   I’m also not going to divulge our interpretations specifically, but will mention thoughts we had.

As I have gone alone in there
And with my treasures bold,
I can keep my secret where,
And hint of riches new and old.

Ok…We know he went alone.  No clues in this stanza to give the hunter any help.  Forrest also tells us that the goods are HIDDEN somewhere in the mountains of Santa Fe.  It’s important to listen to what he says as well as what he doesn’t say.   “Hidden” and “buried” are different.  Now,a very small hint…in an email from Forrest, he did tell me about the weather in the “rocky Mountain States”.  Hope that helps.  ;)

Begin it where warm waters halt
And take it in the canyon down,
Not far, but too far to walk.
Put in below the home of Brown.

VITAL stanza.  Is “where warm waters halt” a reference to a specific town? general geographic area? Nailing down the specific starting point correctly and, In my opinion, the treasure almost finds itself.

 

“canyon down”?  Craploads of canyons where we searched.  Does “down” mean “elevation” or “south”?

“not far”?  ”too far to walk”?  Well. he made a couple trips with a total of 40-50 pounds. He was in his 70′s.  Figure it out.

 

Below the “home of Brown”.     AYE, THERE’S THE RUB!!    Or…Mark’s Great Brown Whale.    Again, “Brown has to be historically significant.  A  business name, or famous person doesn’t have the staying power if, in fact, Forrest would like this found thousands of years from now.  Brown trout angle??  Not likely.  Not specific enough.  ”home of Brown almost needs to be a pinpoint location so the other clues work.

 

Home of Brown?  Forrest says that he doesn’t care, and almost hopes the treasure isn’t found for thousands of years.  ”Brown” almost has to be a known historical location, or a name very close to him.   The former makes more sense when he says you can get to the goods with only the poem.

From there it’s no place for the meek,
The end is ever drawing nigh;
There’ll be no paddle up your creek,
Just heavy loads and water high.

“meek”?  I played with ghost towns, perilous locales, town names…could be anything.

“No paddle up your creek”?  I played with dry riverbeds, shallow streams, downstream locations

Heavy loads?  We looked at powerlines, logging, mining, emotional “loads” etc.

Water high?  waterfalls, high altitude lakes, rain, and word plays on all of these ideas.

If you’ve been wise and found the blaze,
Look quickly down, your quest to cease,
But tarry scant with marvel gaze,
Just take the chest and go in peace.

I’m confident there are no clues in this stanza.  I’m not going to say why.

 

OK.  Let’s count “clues”…

1 – warm waters halt

2 – canyon down

3 – not far, too far to walk (is this 2?)

4 – home of brown

5 – meek

6 – end drawing nigh (I don’t see this as a clue)

7 – no paddle

8 – heavy loads

9 – water high

So why is it that I must go
And leave my trove for all to seek?
The answers I already know,
I’ve done it tired and now I’m weak.

No clues here.

So hear me all and listen good,

Your effort will be worth the cold.
If you are brave and in the wood
I give you title to the gold.

No clues here, although “brave the cold” could be seen as one.  I don’t think it is.  

 

I’d LOVE to hear anyone’s thoughts.

 


Where the hell are we?

Trying to focus on a location that is less than 2 feet square can be tricky.

 

Image

You can plan, map, strategize, and hope all you want when you’re 1000 miles away.  But when you drive up to something like this…almost everything can go out the window.


“The Hunt…” (Saturday)

So, after a jet black drive form Nebraska through Denver, we roll into New Mexico.  Being guys, one (or all) had to pee and ingest ourselves with fat and calories.  We comment on our view (rocks) the wildlife (antelope type things) and the amazing local food (McDonalds).  The first local we meet was very cordial and Welcoming (he was from Iowa, too).  So….after our endless drive, we decide to get to our home base…which required driving.

 

The weeks before, we had loosely planned to search several areas that we were able to fit in to Mr. Fenn’s clues to the loot.  Convinced we were on it, we drove directly to “my spot”.  Convinced “my spot” was securely on private land. We left…and so it went.

 

My crew, unresolved, went smartly to our motel to check in and regroup.  Mapwork, bathroom time (again) and supression of the denial of 40 year old joints finally getting out the treasure hunting vessel after almost 20 hours.  We muscled on…


Crazy is, as…

So.  A few years a crazy old guy who thought he was dying decided to hide treasure.   A LOT  of it.   Gold.  Jewels. Antiquities. Museum pieces.  And he WANTS someone to find it.

 

Forrest is clearly an enigma.  I’m not going to give yu a bio.  Hypothetically, you’ve already installed the Google and have found this writing.  Figure him out for yourself.  I happen to appreciate the guy.  He’s made his money, he has seemed to have “naughty fingered” the Santa Fe art world and is now toying with the rest of the general population.  At least the ones interested in a couple million in treasure.

Just for kicks I’ll post Forrest’s poem……

 

As I have gone alone in there
And with my treasures bold,
I can keep my secret where,
And hint of riches new and old.

Begin it where warm waters halt
And take it in the canyon down,
Not far, but too far to walk.
Put in below the home of Brown.

From there it’s no place for the meek,
The end is ever drawing nigh;
There’ll be no paddle up your creek,
Just heavy loads and water high.

If you’ve been wise and found the blaze,
Look quickly down, your quest to cease,
But tarry scant with marvel gaze,
Just take the chest and go in peace.

So why is it that I must go
And leave my trove for all to seek?
The answers I already know,
I’ve done it tired and now I’m weak.

So hear me all and listen good,
Your effort will be worth the cold.
If you are brave and in the wood
I give you title to the gold.

 

Everyone has interpretations to the “clues” and I have mine.

 

Being a “word” guy drew me to this poem and has not, as yet, let me go.  I can say with fair certainty that not every word in the poem uses it’s traditional definition.  Or it does.  Or not.

 

I have also read Forrest’s book a couple times.  The first, looking for obvious “hints”, the second as a book reader.  being the son of a librarian pretty much makes me an expert.  Or it doesn’t.

There are several items in the book I like as clues.  I’d discuss them with anyone interested.

 

As a book I’d give it a “meh” on a scale from  sci fi to Catcher in the Rye.  It’s awfully random and doesn’t necessarily follow a plan.  But, man, the guy has LIVED.    Read it yourself.  It’s amazingly put together with spendy paper and pretty pics.

 

I’ll try to put more thoughts on glass as we get closer to departure, then the tenor may change when I add three more caballeros  to the mix.  Til then, I can be responded to and will probably respond immediately.

 

And of course, I hope you enjoy searching for your treasure.  Whatever it may be.

 


It don’t sing and dance, and it don’t walk…

The idea of being two weeks away from an estimated $1m (plus) is like eating a stack of saltines.  The pile is there, but whether it’s the same “there” as we think is “there” is but a small unknown detail.  Our daypacks are loaded with the assumption that we get lost.  Too many survival shows have us fairly well supplied.

 

We’ve got several “locations of interest” and several days  for exploration.  I think we’ve planned as well as can be expected for 4 dudes who don’t spend any time in the mountains.

 

The research portion has been the most interesting. We’re 99% sure we’re in the correct geographical area with vague and cryptic confirmations teasing us like a comely whore.

In an effort to be vague enough to protect our safety…and possibly our loot…I’ll post pics only after we’ve been there.  There will be no pics, nor confirmation if anything is found.  That’s just stupid.

I am super jazzed to see a the Southwest up close and personal.   Did I say southwest??


Where we going, exactly??

Lots of mapping to pin down, yet.  We’ve been coordinating lists, potential sites, stuff to bring (the funnest part). If we find what we’re after it’ll be the highlight of the year.  If we don’t, it’ll be the highlight of the year.

 

At this point we seem to be second and/or third guessing the primary site.  It’s so damn vast…

Got a perfect group mix, we should be in good shape.  Even if things go south, we’ve got most contingencies planned.  An idea guy, a detail guy,  resident medic, and an Eagle. Plus we’re fortified.

 


And the salad of the day was…

Planning is smoothish. Loggong in supplies. Prepping “go-bags”. Conditioning (you other 3 a-holes are too, right?)

The seriousness is becoming serious. A.d palpable. Im nervous. Less so at not finding “it” as the real dangers involved.

Signs abound…if you look for them, or even if you dont. Tuning in like a sober hippie Im seeing them on the drive, in the office, in the yard.

The haul could be a changer of everything. The experience is assured to.

I might go have a salad….. Join me.


Little surprises around every corner…

Always have a Plan B.  Unless Plan B walks up,, kicks you in the junk, and then says “Follow me”.  Interesting week.

 

Treasure hunt is “ON”.  Not to get hopes up, but they’re up.  Way up.  We’ve rerouted ever so slightly, fine tuned, locked a date, all are in at this point.  Could be a life changer.  

 

When you get a piece of (albeit cryptic) news that persuades you to have a brief meltdown, do you go with the meltdown?  Do you second guess?  Do you then abandon almost everything else and pursue it?  

 

Of course.


When the adventure is worth more than the find…

Sappy as it is…this really is the definition of a treasure hunter.  The odd part is that I haven’t stepped one foot in the direction of the treasure of my plans.  Doesn’t matter.

 

Looking for something that may or may not be there has to come from within.  At this point it can be consider along the lines of a Schrodinger’s Cat type of situation.  Planning in depth to look for something that isn’t a lock takes some conviction. Banking on a tale of “lost treasure” is akin to banking on an ancient text for spiritual guidance.  The irony isn’t lost…  


A burgeoning addiction…

This has the potential to get out of hand. I now walk with my head down for fear I miss an elusive 1964 quarter in the parking lot.

Picked a middle of the road metal detector recently, so clearly, the habit is being fed. Only the dog days of Iowa winter are holding me back.

Cache treasures excite me now much like Kari Wuhrer did in my formative years.


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