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368 pages, Paperback
First published May 18, 2021
"By 2010, Fenn was eighty years old. His memoir and his poem were complete. His treasure chest was full. One day—he made sure no one knew exactly when, but it was around that same year—Fenn took the chest from his vault, headed out into the wilderness, and hid it. He did it alone, placing the treasure where “it would be difficult to find but not impossible. It’s in the mountains somewhere north of Santa Fe,” as he wrote in his book. The chest, he said, took him two trips from his car to hide, because it and its contents weighed an impressive forty-two pounds by then. Hiding it took one afternoon. Then he returned home, and, he said, even his wife was none the wiser.
Fenn printed one thousand copies of his memoir, which he titled The Thrill of the Chase, and offered them at wholesale cost to a friend at Santa Fe’s Collected Works Bookstore to sell. He stipulated that a percentage of any profits go to a cancer charity, and that the rest go to the store. None would go to him; Fenn wanted to ensure that no one accused him of engineering this hunt in an effort to sell books."
"Over the next twenty years, Fenn filled the chest with all manner of valuables. Eventually, it would come to hold a truly magnificent fortune: 265 gold coins; dozens of gold nuggets; a gold dragon bracelet with ruby eyes, studded with diamonds, emeralds, and rubies; 2 gold frogs; a Mayan gold bracelet; a seventeenth-century emerald-and-gold Spanish ring; 2 pre-Columbian gold mirrors; gold dust; 2 gold nose rings; a Tairona fetish necklace thousands of years old; several jade figurines; 2 pre-Columbia wak’as—objects of ritual importance or power—and more, plus a copy of Fenn’s as-yet-unseen autobiography, stuffed into an olive jar."
"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?
Thee 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."