In the year 1988 a seemingly unconnected series of events occurred: millions of acres of Yellowstone burned in a historic and unrelenting wildfire, a man discovered his body was ablaze with the unforgiving disease of cancer, and that same man, contemplating what could be his last great adventure, purchased a 12th-century Romanesque 10”x10”x5” lock box for $25,000. Alone, and in secret, sitting in his newly purchased Santa Fe home, the man known as Forrest Fenn quietly began to fill the mystery box with gold coins, priceless antiques, and his favorite treasures. As he placed each item inside, he’d imagine the memories that each object quietly held, their stories and secrets of the past and the stories yet untold now woven into his very own story.

Decades later in 2009, on a desolate stretch of Yellowstone backcountry road, the 80 year old Fenn pulled into a dirt parking lot next to a creek nearby his sacred fishing hole. Years of carefully architecting a plan, Fenn already knew his likely and familiar destination. Surveying his surroundings, he took a deep breath of the crisp fresh air — his nose filled with the smell of pinyon trees, sagebrush, and fresh water. Ready, he ventured off 2.5 miles into the clearing to confirm his special spot.

Fenn’s lock box holding the treasure

Hours later, after verifying the place, he returned to his car and pulled off a blanket covering his bronze chest full of treasure. Fenn strenuously unloaded the box which now weighed over 40 lbs. Moving much slower this time he embarked back on the trail, down a canyon, and into the wood. Arriving at the boxes final resting place, Forrest sat next to a strong rock wall. He reflected on his life of adventure, as the high waters of the falls next to him babbled into the creek below. Carefully holding the box one last time his fingers gently inspected the two strong columns and beautiful Roman figures engraved in the bronze. He tucked the box into it’s hiding place, walked back to his car and murmured to himself, “Forrest Fenn, did you just do that?” He paused, looked back again and then resolved to never divulge the treasures explicit location to anyone.

Sitting in his car, he pulled out a well-worn notebook from his glovebox to review his “map”, a 24-line poem filled with clues leading to the treasure. An idea and plan seemingly inspired by Minerva, the goddess of poetry, art, and wisdom. . . .

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.