Serendipity

Clues…

Use the following clues to determine where this letterbox is located, and then refer to the map to get there.

The map indicates:

1 city, 2 lakes, 3 roads — each corresponding with one of the following:

• Bony body part
• Bo Derek + 1/2 Mile
• Freshwater Fish + Body of Water
• Fe + s
• Park Attendant + 5th consonent
• Stella’s PTA - Low Point

 
| Click here to download the map in Adobe .PDF format |

Spirit of the Lake

 
This letterbox was originally created for the 2004 Great Lakes Letterbox Gathering held at Morraine Hills State Park, McHenry, IL on June 12, 2004. The box was replanted in its permanent spot in Michigan, with the original stamp and logbook in July 2004.

Clues…

As Sherman and his dog, Nugent, walked toward the lake, they passed the entrance to Idlewild. Sherm fondly recalled summers he had spent with his grandparents in the neighboring beach community of Winnetaska. Mindlessly he began humming the song written so many years ago by Douglas Malloch, one of Winnetaska’s renowned residents.

As they crossed through the parking lot and headed down the boardwalk toward the beach, he listened to the whisper of the wind in the trees and the clapping of the waves hitting the shoreline, and thought how fitting the words of the song, “The whisper of the forest tree, The thunder of the inland sea…” They certainly captured the spirit of the lake that stretched endlessly before him. The poet could have been standing in this very place when he so eloquently penned his tribute.

He turned and started back up the boardwalk, the words of the song still running through his mind as he headed off to hide the letterbox.

*FROM*BPM*YLK*MPYL*CTYMVIO*VMIZ*FTQ*DOFYWBU
*ZCH*TCZZCK*HVS*RZMCX*NLUCF*BW*AOL*SLMA*LZJG
MYZ*AOL*DCDZOFG*QCBHWIS*WB*H*WSYXLIVPC*PUDQ
OFUAZ*AV*V*NYHZZF*RUVSS*PU*FTQ*JSMHYPUN*TWLO
WWF*BPM*JATKY*OZWJW*YMZK*JUNBM*KWVDMZOM*R
UZP*CBS*GAOZZ*SJSFUFSSB*LJWW*LCN*EAST*WV*FTQ*
SIDE*VM*SGD*VWZZ*UFCKG*OB*GSC*BZMM*WITH*OVIZ
TG*VSSXW*LQXXBN*Z*DOHV*OBR*AOYS*FUBY*KOM*ZU
*THIS*MKXX*NWTTWE*SGD*YJCQ*AOHA*EBXL*QTILTTC
*HVWG*NLYY*HUK*IWT*VUM*GTFFHMF*HSRDKE*UZ*O*
BCFHVSFZM*RWFSQHWCB*MH*V*WSHJL*VGDQD*EQHQD
MX*AYHPSZ*BTTI*VSOR*OH*HKC*LYRHVIH*BWBSHM*ZA
CNAAO*CX*HVS*SBR*CT*HVS*TRAIL*DOLYL*H*VDGVTDJ
H*CPLD*XO*AOL*ILHJO*WJZ*RFC*SHRL*HDHPA*IPMIL*LC
*VLR*I*YBT*HEAO*ODAEEQP*BJSF*O*GAOZZSF*VUL*JC*L
ZW*TPEGI*CT*THEIR*UMMBQVO*ZWSG*HVS*PCL*

One Tin Soldier

(the return of Billy Jack Beale)

 
Now they stood before the treasure, on the mountain dark and red,
Turned the stone and looked beneath it, “Peace on Earth was all it said.”

Clues…

On a cold and rainy evening in November, the brave one-legged soldier returned home from Virginia, after many years of seeking his great-great-grandfather’s treasure.

Several years later, he sat beside a crackling fire at the Circle R Ranch and told of the lessons he had learned — about greed and the uselessness of violence, “Listen children to a story…”

When he finished, a little boy who had been listening intently to each word of the soldier’s tale, murmured — as much a question as a statement, “But you can justify it in the end?”

The old soldier looked away, far off toward the mountains as if remembering how it had been. Quietly he answered, “There are some who say you can; I don’t.”

51, 62, 157, 14, 118, 159, 98, 124, 181, 36, 170, 133, 150, 40, 61, 16, 98, 5, 13, 68, 108, 22, 136, 20, 180, 9, 1, 79, 182, 137, 100, 68, 3, 159, 88, 58, 176, 1, 181, 41, 117, 102, 87, 92, 130, 103, 100, 68, 171, 68, 29, 109, 66, 133, 181, 39, 49, 145, 159, 53, 50, 99, 2, 166, 61, 38, 178, 160, 98, 181, 65, 136, 125, 124, 92, 98, 105, 63, 68, 87, 176, 146, 29, 184, 171, 181, 54, 117, 178, 120, 136, 23, 22, 110, 12, 159, 57, 96, 108, 133, 47, 95, 162, 143, 13, 61, 128, 9, 176, 65, 136, 111, 100, 68, 54, 1, 181, 10, 159, 59, 50, 51, 102, 184, 160, 29, 31, 147, 16, 148, 176, 1, 181, 19, 68, 87, 108, 171, 181, 68, 136, 93, 159, 68, 181, 65, 136, 114, 61, 175, 133, 68, 55, 128, 109, 142, 26, 61, 143, 36, 125, 137, 100, 154, 23, 128, 93, 48, 68, 50, 120, 159, 6, 63, 181, 141, 86, 90, 22, 102, 105, 39, 184, 5, 176, 120, 61, 68, 1, 49, 153, 178, 160, 68, 17, 48, 181, 15, 78, 9, 68, 32, 162, 18, 87, 68, 181, 174, 161, 115, 61, 169, 89, 107, 61, 3, 66, 91, 164, 128, 68, 37, 162, 68, 35, 181, 50, 80, 143, 29, 181, 45, 87, 68, 181, 86, 20, 159, 120, 82, 69, 39, 65, 147, 126, 133, 68, 181, 102, 59, 136, 145, 101, 154, 60, 98, 16, 91, 71, 68, 100, 59, 160, 78, 42, 63, 181, 86, 23, 98, 130, 153, 1, 40, 181, 127, 38, 144, 68, 185, 173, 129, 136, 181.

Morris’ Mystery

Clues…

I was walking along sucking on a piece of hard candy, humming a Joni Mitchell tune, counting crows along the west edge… 1, 2, 3, 4… 14, 15… oh wait, there’s one more, hidden behind the white stallions…

In the picnic shelter there were two old men playing checkers and it got me thinking about Morris — the Russian, not the cat, not the artist. I found it quite intriguing how he went from being an immigrant tailor to the king of checkers. One had to wonder how the story would have come out if Lomberg hadn’t failed. Would he have become the king of checkers instead? Surely he would have been too yellow to risk everything and move the whole operation from Chicago to Kalamazoo, as Morris had done. And this would probably be a housing development instead of a public park full of maples.

So, I wondered as I reached a small oasis, if Morris was a Russian immigrant, how did this little island get this name? And what exactly is the significance of this pile of rocks? I was still mulling over the possibilities as I headed north into the woods on the trail about 60 paces up the drive, but soon changed focus and directed my energy to the climb that lay before me.

There was a profusion of spring flowers and the scent was intoxicating, but it hardly seemed like I was going to find what I was looking for out here in the woods. I could barely even hear any traffic, let alone hope to see any, or catch a ride to town. But the woman had seemed to know what she was talking about when I had told her what I was looking for.

I found myself humming Joni Mitchell again, hoping this paradise would never meet such fate. A dollar and a half just to see the trees seemed a bit outrageous until I put it in perspective — I had after all, paid $5.00 to get into this park.

I turned my attention to the scrawled directions she had given me…

The Big House

Clues…

So here I am, 6 days before Christmas, exactly 42 years old, plodding through the snow looking for a letterbox. But not just any letterbox — this is one I saved specifically for today, although I’m not sure that was such a good idea… I swear I’m gonna die if I have to climb up and down one more sand dune. I wonder how many people do that, statistically — check out on the same date they were born on, that is…

Okay, this must be the sandy bowl, and there’s the large, tall pine tree. Hmmmm, I never did see the “abandoned concrete block building,” but I appear to be on the right trail. Down another sand dune… my knee is killing me. I’m getting old… Due south 60 paces to the gnarly pine, and there it is! Oh, the thrill… Oh, my freezing fingers!

Victorious in my quest for yet another stamp in my logbook, I headed back down the trail to the parking lot. On my drive out of the park, curiosity got the best of me and I decided to take the road off to the right and check out what’s back there. The road ends at a parking lot, across from a house… a big house… the big house.

Now, when a person says “the big house” some people think of a really large house. Other people use this term as slang for prison, so I suppose you might be wondering specifically in which context I am using this description. Well… actually, both. After doing a bit of research, I came to realize that the big house had a somewhat diverse and colorful history, and decided it would make an interesting place for a letterbox. And so, I carved a stamp, and a few weeks later, returned to plant the box.

Now you have to understand, this big old house is supposedly haunted by the ghost of its former mistress, and it’s not exactly in my backyard or anything, so by the time I got there, it was starting to get dark. The empty parking lot told me the dog-walkers and cross-country skiers had all headed home already, and I was the only person there… And it was cold being so close to the lake… And well, you get the point — I intended to make this quick.

Walking along the trail, I looked into the trees for the perfect hiding place. All the while, it was getting darker and I kept thinking about that big old haunted house behind me. My pace quickened as I spied a potential spot up ahead. Yes… the round plastic container fit perfectly into the hollow! I quickly covered it with a handful of snowy leaves and twigs and jotted down a few notes, confident I would remember the intended directions and landmarks once I got home.

Back at home, I sat down to write up the box clues, except I couldn’t really remember what exactly most of my scribbled notations meant, and whether the numbers were counts or paces or degrees or measurements… Oh well, I’m sure I could find my way back to the box without the directions, so I don’t really need to figure them out.

But you do… so I’ll just let you make sense of them.