Letters to Forrest…

Hello Mr. Fenn,

My dad and I have been looking for your treasure for 5 years. I’m 10 years old so when we started it was really just my dad. We have been to Western Colorado, Northern New Mexico and Wyoming. We are not giving up and hope to one day find this. It has been fun trying and I will never forget the time spent with my dad but it would be even better to find the treasure.


Emilee from Denver

Hi Mr. Fenn,

I hope you and your family are enjoying this beautiful spring.

My, you have been very productive!  I have read your latest Scrapbooks and enjoyed them very much.  But a few have begged a response so here I go.  This will be a long email so I realize you will probably skip over it.  I appreciate your honesty about that, so I am forewarned.  But that won’t stop me, which brings me to my first response.

In Scrapbook One Hundred Seventy Nine, you wrote about Peggy, “Everyone knew she was too good for me, but tenacity was never one of my shortcomings.”  That line is one that I have hung my hat on more than a few times.  I am sometimes greatly motivated and accomplish things with precision and excellence.  However, the majority of the time I am kind of a bumbling plodder, taking one step forward and two steps sideways.  But through it all, I am goal-oriented.  That’s a nice way of saying I’m determined in a very stubborn sort of way.  Tenacity, it seems, was also never one of my shortcomings.  I just liked seeing it in writing.  It somehow makes it more true.

Which leads me to my next item.  In Scrapbook One Hundred Seventy, you wrote about your experience in the judicial system.  You were duly sworn to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.  Well, when I wrote to you about falling in the lake and hitting my head that wasn’t the whole truth.  I mean, it did happen, but it wasn’t the whole story.  So here is the whole truth:

Every year my brother, Kurt, has a fishing contest at a pond in Fleming, Colorado.  Fleming is a small town on the eastern plains.  He strongly believes in encouraging kids to learn to fish as a lifelong skill and enjoyment.  So once a year, during Fleming Days, he puts on his competition.  While it is open to anyone, kids are welcome, and especially those who have never fished before.  He has me come out and help those kids bait hooks, cast lines, untangle crossed lines and everything else involved in the process.  It is enormous fun.

The tournament was drawing to a close and I was with my granddaughter, Neevie.  She had already caught a small bass which she enjoyed, but it had not put her in the prize categories.  Kurt shouted out, “TWO MINUTES!” when Neevie’s pole bent with a solid bite.  I had her hold the pole and with the next bite she set the hook.  She reeled as fast as she could and there, about seven feet off shore, I saw a bullhead on her line.  It was small, but it might put her over to get a prize.  All of a sudden I heard the drag.  That dadgum fish had snagged itself on the rocks.  I told Neevie to just let it swim for a minute and it would free itself.  But after all of the fight it must have decided to take a breather, it didn’t move more than an inch or two.  “FORTY SECONDS!!!” my brother yelled.  Well, I knew it was do or die.  If I could get that fish on shore in 39 seconds it would count.  So I went in and unsnagged the line and fell in dramatic fashion (like a cow on ice).  At the same time, Neevie decided to pull her pole straight back so the fish went flying out of the water like it was shot from a slingshot and bounced onto the shore.  As I am lying there, half in the water and half out, I could hear a voice yelling, “DID YOU GET THE FISH??????” and then, almost as an afterthought, “Are you OK?”.  Neevie finished just out of money, I think she lost by a half of an inch, but I couldn’t swear to it in a court of law.

Lastly, we have Graciella.  The painting did not appeal to me at first, but as I really looked at Graciella I began to warm up to her.  Now I have created a nebulous backstory and find myself rather protective of her.  I hope she is being appreciated wherever she is.

While your Chase has created an amazing adventure, I really love your writing (no matter where you put your commas).

Thank you,




23 thoughts on “Letters to Forrest…

  1. I’m sure there is no mail box large enough to hold all the mail you receive, Forrest! 🙂 🙂

  2. Thanks for sharing these insights into a couple of the folks out there that are in the CHASE. I hope that they all TRY to STAY SAFE when going out. JDA

  3. Letters to Forrest as opposed to Forrest gets mail. Hmm.
    Pillowed down and scented in…:-)

  4. Somehow I missed SB170. The truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. — Really for a fisherman? I doubt that the one that got away would ever fit such court room standard. Sad to hear about the competition that was really a tournament. Such an adventure for beginners is a bit too much. I do not see how it would create enjoyment and feel that it would impede skill when the stress of such time constraints are used. I think the girl and the grandmother would have been better off without so much pressure. I don’t think I would participate in the annual tournament – I’d rather fish in peace and quiet and without all the attention and drama. I thought it would be more about the skill and enjoyment than about the grand prize of big fish money. Too much pressure to perform to an ambiguous standard does not propel my skill or enjoyment. I think such pressure would hinder many individuals in various sports. Don’t know Graciella but glad she is being protected and appreciated.

  5. This tournament sounds like a great event bringing kids and families together in the great outdoors. It’s the thrill of the chase!

  6. Emilee, So cool your spending time with your Dad. You are also a great writer for your age:) something to think about Girl.

    Rita, you have gumption, any girl that would jump in 7 feet for a bullhead must have. And thats the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. But a little to murky for me to swear to it.

    Thanks Ladies

  7. smilie face,mr. forrest gump.I was thinking about the picture of you in your bathroom with you and your camera.so I’m putting myself in your shoes,so here goes,I’m in your bathroom ,holding the camera(remember I’m forrest).so when I look in the mirror,what do I see,I see forrest looking back at forrest with the camera.like a double take,likeness.you old standing in front of the mirror,looking at yourself,you see yourself,but an older self,not the young man you once were,but yet you are the same person,double take,likeness.,I’m trying to get something here,like your shadow,it goes where you go,except on cloudy,rainy days,etc,its not there,but you know it has to be there somewhere,cause we always have a shadow. screen,shadow box.lens,our eyes are that.images on the retina are formed upside down,the brain goes to work and makes the images right-side up,double take,likeness.we all see the world in a different way,but yet it still all looks the same.we all see pictures forrest sends us,and we all come out with a different point of view,just like the poem,we all come out with a different point of view,so how can we be wrong,I don’t think we are,we just see things in a different view point.the beginning and the end are the same.A equals B,and B equals A. like binoculars,two big lens,we look thru,yet we see one image,but yet can be different views,but same image,am I making any sense here.its like Hindsight is better than foresight.

  8. Mr.forrest.your a whisperer, tattle tell,making tattle tales..but you sure do speak so good in all your stories,i look forward to reading them,so much.you mr.forrest are a book.your brain is a computer,sos mine,but your brain computer must be great,as mine has problems, that poem is something else.i want to tell you ,im still trying.

  9. Fun nod to cowlazars?? Got a minute or second anyone? Man, it gets hot in here sometimes. Get out your coordinates and fire up the chase mobile lol.

  10. I will never forget the time spent with my dad but it would be even better to find the treasure.
    That’s a nice way of saying I’m determined in a very stubborn sort of way. Tenacity, it seems, was also never one of my shortcomings.
    The tournament was drawing to a close .

    All in the above two letters, maybe Forrest has gotten a correct solve???

  11. Looks like DMS coordinates to me. Rita actually spells it out (the big numbers, anyway), lol. And Fleming rhymes with Deming (32 degrees and some think related to WWWH). More than a few directional references as well. Just a few observations of the many aberrations in this post. Have fun!

  12. The below story happened to me a long time ago. When my son was born 7 years ago, around the same time Forrest unleashed the world upon his chase, I knew the day would come when I would be able to share this story with him, along with the FF treasure, hoping he would be as excited as I was. He turned 7 a few days ago and not only loved my story, but upon learning of the treasure, was eager to join the chase with me. I sent an email to him to say thank you for everything he has done in stoking my sons imagination, as I too believe imagination is more important than knowlege.

    I lived in Sarasota for a chunk of time with my girlfriend, who attended college nearby. There is a grove of trees on the beach in Sarasota, FL near the Ringling Museum. It is not only excellent for watching the sunset, but its out of the way of anything, so no rabid goat-dogs or cow-ducks were gonna chase us off, as they have been known to do on occasion near more populated spots. We walked to a tree that we had visited in the past because of its shape. It is almost horizontal. It grows out of the ground at a low angle that makes it easy to climb and sit in, with a nook to relax in and watch the sunset. It was our special spot. We had just barely made it in time to see the sun set in all of its glory. Right before we were to take our seats in the tree, something caught my eye near its base. Due to its angle, it was more or less underneath the tree. I can only see the form and texture of objects, and not really color, so I notice things sometimes that others miss. Most of the time they arent really there, but sometimes they are. Anyways, instead of climbing the tree, I go closer to take another look and see a little case. I ask my girlfriend if she sees it, and she says she does see something that looks like a box! I walk around the back of the tree, get down on my knees, crawl under a bit and grab the box. It is a miniature guitar/novelty ukulele case of some kind. It was black leather and a bit heavy so I knew something must be inside. On the outside was a label, made from one of the old labelmakers that actually imprints into the label.

    The label read: “THIS IS IT”

    This is it?


    thinking that this was just about the coolest thing that I have ever found, we made a big deal out of it before opening. My heart was beating fast as I finally undid the little clips, and opened it, not knowing what would be inside. Drugs, money, a tiny guitar, certain untimely doom? Maybe it was a clue to something, and we happened to find it. We found something. We were important. Nay… We were awesome…

    Inside was a little white box set into the case, which iteself was lined with red velvet. A note was resting atop it. The note was written completely in the same old imprinted label and stuck to a piece of paper, about 3 inches by 3 inches. On one side it read: “directions”. On the back side it read:

    “Remove item from holder, press play, listen. When finished, rewind completely, press stop, and replace item in holder. Place back exactly where you found it.”

    I removed the little white box, which had a nice sony mini handheld tape recorder in it. It looked clean and relatively new, I checked the batteries to look for damage or corrosion, and there was none. This couldnt be that old. Now I figure a normal person would have played the recorder before checking the batteries, materials made, corrosion level, water damage, model number, etc… Not me, it was a good 2 minutes of looking at the box and the recorder before I pressed play. The wheels started spinning, the batteries were good! We listened, finished, then put it back in the box, then put the box in the mini guitar case with the note. I placed the case back ‘under’ the tree exactly where I found it, and we turned to look out over the ocean. It turns out we missed to final disappearances of the sun. We missed our favorite part of the sunset, but it was ok. It was all going to be ok, I was sure of it. As I was leaving, I took one look at where I just put the box. It was only a feet away and I couldnt see it. Gone? I walked around the tree twice, but unless I got down on my knees and crawled under the tree, I wasn’t able to see the box. Then it hit me, it was hidden during all times of day and night save one. Sunset. Only when the light from a setting sun came from directly across the horizon and into the grove would you be able to see it. The tree was bent to the west, where the sun sets. This was awesome. Even telling the tale makes me feel awesome. I can only hope the whomever placed the box there originally feels as awesome as I do. Now I believe my life actually is changed in more ways than one, all because of a beautiful sunset that I happened to not be looking at.

    • That’s a great story but of course I’m curious as to what the message was, will you ever tell?

      • It was the song Blue Moon, I think it was the Sinatra version.

        I never did find out if it was part of something larger like a campus-wide scavenger hunt or what. No one at the Ringling Museum or the college knew anything about it, and 2 days later when we went to go look for it, it was no longer there.

        But still.. I was a kid, it was a serious rush.

        • Johnthetech, thank you for telling me because for a couple of days I thought of your story off & on and wondered what was on there! Blue Moon?! What a great story and it’ll probably always stick with you! Thanks for answering, I appreciate it!

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