Welcome to Red Feather Treasure Hunt!
Red Feather Treasure Hunt
Adventure Awaits in the Great Outdoors
Discover hidden treasures and outdoor fun for everyone!
Welcome to Red Feather Treasure Hunt!
Discover hidden treasures and outdoor fun for everyone!
Red Feather Treasure Hunt is dedicated to fostering a love for the outdoors through engaging treasure hunts. We believe that nature is the ultimate playground, and our goal is to inspire adventure in people of all ages.
This Summer You can come spend a day hunting for HIDDEN TREASURE in the RED FEATHER LAKES AREA. Each weekend starting MEMORIAL WEEKEND and ending on LABOR DAY WEEKEND a new and different TREASURE will be hidden somewhere in or near RED FEATHER LAKES. CLUES will be Published... TREASURE CHESTS will contain Valuables such as SILVER DOLLAR COINS, CRYSTALS, GEODES, COSTUME JEWELRY, GIFT CERTIFICATES, and an assortment of other items. A FUN and EXCITING EXPERIENCE for ALL AGES. Bring a picnic lunch and enjoy the great outdoors of RED FEATHER LAKES.
I took my first breath not in a hospital, but beneath a sky so vast it seemed to stretch into forever — near Swamp Creek, where the wind smells of pine and snowmelt and the land still belongs more to elk and eagle than to man. That clean, crisp mountain air filled my lungs for the first time, and something wild and enduring took root in me.
From the beginning, I was a curious spirit, a little boy with muddy boots and eyes always fixed on the next hill, the next mystery. When I was just three years old, that curiosity pulled me away from our log cabin and deep into the forest. I’d heard my father was cutting timber near Seven Mile Creek, and I was determined to find him. I wandered off — alone, small, and fearless.
By dusk, the search party feared the worst. My tiny boot prints led to the edge of a mine shaft, and hearts sank. But fate had other plans. Our family dog — my protector, my guardian angel with fur — caught my scent and tore through the underbrush until she found me, cold and crying, huddled beneath a tree. She lay across my legs to keep me warm and barked until the rescuers came. They found us together — a boy and his dog, bonded forever in the wilderness.
I went to school in an old weathered house up the hill from our mountain village. One teacher. Six grades. I remember how she'd have me read beside her desk, her voice gentle as snow as she corrected my words. I learned there that words had power — to transport, to inspire, to make sense of the world.
When I hit junior high age, my father moved us to the Cheyenne Indian Reservation in Montana. Life changed, but the land still spoke to me, just in a different dialect. After junior high, we returned to Colorado, and I finished high school in Johnstown. As soon as I could, I went to work — clearing trees, carving access roads into the forest for the Forest Service. It was hard work, but I loved it. It was me versus nature, and I felt alive.
The draft loomed large over my generation. I drew a high lottery number — safe from conscription. But my younger brother wasn’t so lucky. He got his notice, and the night before he shipped out, I sat at his kitchen table, breaking bread with him and his wife. We barely spoke of the war. The silence said enough.
Then, in a moment that would change everything, I asked if I could ride with him to the induction center. He nodded. We drove in silence, brother to brother. But when he checked in, I did something no one expected. I stepped onto the bus beside him. The sergeant stared in confusion — he had more men than he was supposed to. But I wouldn’t leave. I was going with my brother.
We did Basic Training together at Fort Leonard Wood, Missouri — brothers in boots, side by side. After just four weeks, the Army fast-tracked me to Advanced Individual Training in California. One day, while standing in formation, I caught a glimpse of another familiar face — my cousin. And there we were: my uncle, my cousin, my brother, and me. Four family members in uniform, a proud and defiant unit of our own.
Later, after college, I returned to the only place that ever truly felt like home: Red Feather Lakes. I bought 80 acres of pristine wilderness — just me, my horse, and the silence of the mountains. I've lived most of my life here, under star-choked skies, surrounded by trees older than memory. It’s where I belong.
Some say the mountains are unforgiving. I say they raised me.
Red Feather Treasure Hunt was born from this fascination with experiencing the wilderness. I want others to fall in love with these hills as mush as I have. Thank you for coming along with us.
--- Wayne Hayden
Find #9: Brynlee & Ava Baker are the grandchildren of Dave and Lou Ann Tuzson of Glacier View Meadows.
Please be respectful of other hunters. If you find a Treasure Chest, we need to know. Document your find by submitting the form below!!
*FOUND*
May 24th, by Holly and Daniel Robbins
A Bustling Town NO MORE
A Whispering Breeze
The Wind has Blown
Through the Trees.
A Serene Place
Where life was hard
Amongst the Trees and Rocks
Spirits stand Guard.
Gold was the GOAL
of All, but today
The next CLUE
Is what we pursue.
A MAN chased his HAT
The wind pushed it along
It caught on a bush
a red feather in it’s band
Now you can see
The place to be
The Treasure is here
For YOU to retrieve…
* FOUND*
The Hiker’s Treasure Rhyme
A hike through the woods, past grassy fields green,
Where downed trees rest in a quiet, still scene.
The path winds upward, steady and true,
To a saddle that waits ‘twixt two hills of blue.
There, from the fallen trees, cast your gaze
To the northwest ridge where stone outcrops blaze.
A small rock formation, humble but proud,
Stands quiet and firm, far from the crowd.
Beyond these hills, Parvin Lake lies still,
Its waters hidden past the rising hill.
But here’s where fortune begins to gleam—
In that outcrop lies the treasure you dream.
Look sharp, seek signs, don't let your eyes stray,
For RED FEATHERS will guide your way.
Amid the stones, in nature’s own chest,
The treasure awaits—your daring the test.
*FOUND*
The Terrace Trail
Park in the lot where you can gaze at Luna,
But don’t go that way — it leads to no fortuna.
Head the way where the morning sun shows,
And cross the barbed wire — just mind your clothes.
An old road runs parallel the new one in view,
Or a dew-covered ditch will guide you too.
You’ll come to a terrace of old stone and lore,
Where a barn once stood, but stands no more.
From that terrace, look to the west —
That’s the direction that serves you best.
*FOUND*
Watchers of the Quiet Village
In a land where mountains meet the sky,
A giant watches, standing high.
Among small homes with chimneys round,
Live quiet folk not often found.
They wear tall hats and mossy beards,
Tending cats and flowers revered.
With twinkling eyes and quiet cheer,
They see all who wander near.
Within a village calm and still,
A treasure rests by stone and quill.
Under rocks where secrets keep,
They whisper stories in their sleep.
Each year their numbers seem to grow,
Where aspens sway and breezes blow.
It's not an easy thing to find,
But magic waits for hearts that shine.
So follow paths both high and low,
Let wonder guide you as you go.
And if a Red Feather meets your gaze,
You’re very near the hidden blaze.
*FOUND*
A Friday Ritual, A Secret in Stone
One bright June morn, the sun was high,
The clouds were few in a brilliant sky.
At 9 o’clock, with gear in tow,
My four-legged friend was set to go.
Her pack was snug, her tail held proud,
A snack for each, no bark too loud.
We climbed inside the truck with cheer—
She rode shotgun, grinning ear to ear.
She’s failed the test to drive, you see,
So I’m still stuck with that job—lucky me.
She’s drooling again—yep, it’s begun,
She knows that today will be full of fun.
We do this each Friday, weather just right,
Through trails and trees till noon or night.
We park at the trail on the lake’s southern end,
Named for R.G.—Game and Fish’s old friend.
He led the way in ‘23,
His name lives on in this scenery.
We slip through fence with careful grace,
Through wooded paths, our favorite place.
No grandma’s house, no fairy tale—
Just rock and root and whispering trail.
Then rise the stones, great giants strewn,
Outcroppings carved by time’s own tune.
Among them stands one boulder bold,
A secret underneath it told.
A red feather sways in a tree nearby,
A silent signal, a watchful eye.
Beneath the stone, a tunnel tight,
A hiding place from wind and light.
If treasure’s what you seek today,
A giant boulder shows the way.
So brave the path, and trust what’s true—
Beneath its weight, a gift waits for you.
*FOUND*
The Irish Flame
Deep in the woods past Aspens’ sway,
A secret waits to greet your day.
But first, a tale from Emerald Isle,
Of “Cussin’ Kate” with daring style.
She wasn’t shy, not quiet nor sweet,
She stomped in boots, not dainty feet.
She rode her horse, she brewed her shine,
And laughed, “This mountain will be mine!”
She wed a rancher, then changed her plan,
When came a lord—a miner, an Englishman.
He grew quite sick, but she stayed near,
And nursed him back with care and cheer.
They fell in love, and soon they wed,
But kept a clever, watchful head.
She poured his drinks, he signed away
His house and fields one tipsy day!
Now folks around still speak her name,
Not for her love, but for her flame.
She blazed a trail through brush and bark,
A winding path that holds her mark.
So off you go, keep voices hush,
And search beneath a feathered bush.
A red plume points to what she’s hid,
A prize for every clever kid!
For the Kids
*FOUND*
Not far from halls where young minds grow,
Where laughter dances in the air,
Go north from where the children start—
A quiet path will lead you there.
Just beyond the scholars’ reach,
Where bushes grow and breezes glide,
No books are found, but nature speaks,
And little secrets like to hide.
Find the juniper, short and wide,
With poky arms that twist and spread—
Beneath its shade, tucked near the trunk,
A treasure waits, with feather red.
Clue of the Twice-Bought
*FOUND*
Beneath tall pines where shadows play,
A tale unfolds from a frontier day.
This trail’s suspected namesake bold
Once bought these lands not once—but told,
She signed again, though deed was sound,
To hold her ground on hallowed ground.
Gifted to daughter as a wedding start,
Then lost to courts and matters of heart.
Yet back she came with cash in hand,
To twice reclaim this patch of land.
You’ll start downhill, though summit-bound,
Where bridges hum and creeks resound.
The path rewound by modern mind—
Its purpose rerouted, yet spirit aligned.
At journey’s start, don’t roam too wide—
The treasure waits not far inside.
No need to climb where tall peaks dare,
But veer off east with mindful care.
Where green runs thick and pine roots weave,
A secret rests beneath the leaves.
Let whispers guide and stillness speak—
What’s twice reclaimed is yours to seek.
8.2 Extra Clue
Where Cougar Rock and mother’s trail-
Create a boot shape, satellite pale,
Not at the tip where toes would end,
But treasure waits where boot tops bend.
8.3
Beneath the loop where boots you pull,
The treasure waits where shadows lull.
8.4
Sticks and stones may break your pace,
But sticks conceal the hiding place.
Among the Stacks
*FOUND*
Forget the paths you knew before,
This hunt obeys those rules no more.
The pattern’s snapped, the trail is new—
What once was right won’t help you through.
Seek not the wind, nor sky, nor tree,
But where the quiet answers be.
Adventurers' tales on numbered shore—
Begin the search at nine-one-oh point four.
Begin where Molly’s old logging way
(once known by her name, though Granite holds sway).
Head out from the trailhead, keep north in your quest,
Where juniper whispers and boulders rest.
No climbing needed—no granite to scale—
But if boulders loom near, you're hot on the trail.
Look for the bush with needles fine,
That hides a secret lost to time.
Beneath its shade, of green earth,
Awaits the trove of unknown worth.
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If you have specific questions, click the Wayne Hayden button below to send an email,
or find Wayne on Next Door, Red Feather Lakes.
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