"May I take a look at the treasure map?" Martin asked.
Aron Ralston shrugged. "Of course, no problem. In my current condition, there's no way I can go treasure hunting. If you're interested, Martin, I'll give it to you. I only have one request—if you really find the treasure, I'd like to pick one item from it as a keepsake."
As he spoke, without waiting for Martin's reply, Aron pulled a plastic bag from the inside pocket of his jacket. Inside was a piece of parchment, neatly folded. He handed it to Martin.
Martin didn't look at it immediately. Instead, he carefully put it away—their destination was just ahead.
The surrounding terrain grew rugged, and the cliffs on both sides rose higher and higher, stretching out in uneven, jagged lines.
There were many holes and indentations on the rock face, resembling insect-bored tunnels, but they were actually the result of long-term erosion by wind and rain.
"Everyone be careful—watch your heads. This area is prone to falling rocks. The sandstone here can shift or collapse at any time. The temperature difference between day and night is huge—even in summer it can exceed fifty degrees Fahrenheit, which makes the sandstone quite brittle."
"In this kind of environment, and you survived five days and five nights... Aron, you're one tough guy," Martin praised.
Aron just laughed casually. "Maybe in that situation, all I could do was focus on staying alive. There wasn't anything else I could do."
After climbing a slope of about thirty degrees, the group arrived near the exit of Bluejohn Canyon.
"We're here—this is the place." Aron stopped and pointed to a sixty-foot-deep crevice ahead. "After I recovered, I came back here and scattered the ashes of my arm on this land."
Martin and several crew members peered over the edge. From where they stood, the canyon looked incredibly deep.
It was hard to imagine—someone trapped here for five days and nights without food or water, who had just severed his own arm with a dull knife, managing to rappel down from such a height, then trek five miles alone to be rescued.
The crew began taking photos and recording video, documenting the terrain in detail.
Then, Aron led Martin and part of the crew down the canyon by a sloping path on the side.
He pointed to a small pit they passed. "There used to be a puddle here. When I landed, the first thing I did was stick my head in. Being that thirsty was... unbearable."
Aron guided everyone around the bottom of the canyon while the crew continued taking pictures. Martin, meanwhile, took out the parchment treasure map.
The parchment had been artificially aged and had the look of an ancient artifact passed down through generations.
Seeing Martin studying the map, Aron chuckled and said:
"From my research, the final location of the treasure isn't clearly marked on the map. You have to look at the writing on the back to find more clues."
"I managed to decode part of it. For example: 'Start where warm water halts, then carry it into the canyon. This is John's home, where blue and red intertwine.'"
"That clearly refers to this place—Bluejohn Canyon."
"But then there's this last line: 'At the place where the road ends, where today and yesterday meet, the sun's nightlight shines through a tunnel—it will guide you to the treasure!'"
"I never figured out what that means. What does 'where today and yesterday meet' refer to? And how can the sun give off nightlight? What tunnel?"
"I had thought about continuing my search based on the terrain here in the canyon, but it seems now that task falls to you."
Martin smiled and said, "Aron, it's a clear night. Maybe by tonight, I'll be able to put the treasure chest right in front of you."
"What? Are you serious?" Aron's eyes widened.
That night, under a sky bright with moonlight and scattered stars…
The team had set up camp atop the canyon.
By 11:30 p.m., everyone was already asleep.
Martin, however, brought Gordon and Aron back down to the canyon floor.
As they walked, Martin explained, "'Where today and yesterday meet' likely refers to midnight. And the 'sun's nightlight' must be moonlight—since the moon reflects the sun's light. As for the tunnel—"
He paused mid-sentence.
The three of them had now reached the far eastern end of the canyon. Martin pointed to something. "Look."
Aron and Gordon looked up—and saw a deep, round hole about the size of a baby's fist.
It pierced clean through the canyon wall like a tunnel, angled upward toward the sky.
"I get it," Martin said. "This line means that at midnight, moonlight will shine through this hole. And wherever the light lands—that's where the treasure is buried."
Aron let out a gasp of delight—then fell silent again.
Martin simply smiled.
A moment later, Aron frowned and said, "No, wait. That can't be it. If the hole points to the treasure's location, then we wouldn't need to wait for moonlight at all. Even in daylight, we could just follow the line it points to and dig. Why emphasize midnight moonlight?"
He turned to Martin.
Martin smiled. "Why don't we wait and see? We'll know what happens at midnight."
Gordon checked his watch. "Fifteen minutes to go."
"Alright, let's wait," said Aron.
Time ticked by.
At 11:55, a faint glimmer of moonlight shone through the hole. It was so subtle that one might miss it entirely without paying attention.
Strangely, the light didn't shine straight ahead in the direction the hole pointed. Instead, it refracted inside and angled off to hit the rock wall behind them.
What was going on?
Aron, curious, moved closer to the hole and shone his flashlight into it. After a moment of inspection, he found the answer.
Inside the hole were two small mirrors. One of them was set just below the exit, redirecting the moonlight with precise refraction—thus creating the unusual light path.
Ingenious!
Aron silently praised the design.
Those mirrors must have been placed there by Forrest Fenn himself.
Then Martin's voice rang out: "Aron, feel like digging up the treasure with your own hands?"
Aron's spirits lifted. "Of course!"
Martin handed him a folding shovel.
Aron grabbed it with one hand and began digging where the moonbeam touched the rock wall.
The stone here wasn't hard bedrock—it was more like a red clay that became sticky when wet, mixed with sand. It was surprisingly easy to dig through.
Soon—
Clang!
The shovel struck something solid.