The Great Treasure Hunt

      Peche Island 

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My brother and sister-in-law didn’t arrive quietly.
They never did.

They came from the Hudson Valley in upstate New York in a small RV packed with children — ten of them — plus a babysitter, sleeping bags, food bins, and just enough chaos to overwhelm the quiet order of Grosse Pointe.

Also in the mix was my sister, her husband and their two sons from Phoenix and another sister and her daughter from Port Huron.

It was a long awaited family reunion with an epic twist.

It didn’t announce itself. It waited to be noticed.

It didn’t announce itself. It waited to be noticed.

The Bottle

The bottle was old. Or at least it looked old.
The paper inside had darkened edges, singed just enough to suggest time, danger, and secrecy.

When one of the children pulled it from the canal leading out to the Detroit River, the adults went quiet.
Not because we believed it —

but because the children already did.
 
The map inside could only be pointing to one place — Peche Island.
 

Peche Island — in international waters between Canada and the US.

What the map had promised in symbols and lines now existed in shoreline, trees, and soil. It was dramatic and mysterious. It was quiet, inviting, and waiting to be entered.

After the river crossing by boat the search began here.

After the river crossing the search began here.

The atmosphere grew charged as they marched toward the spot marked on the map. 

From the beach to the island’s jungle like interior.

From the beach to the island’s jungle like interior.

Grandpa George and his grandchildren in tow.

Grandpa George and his grandchildren in tow.

They had arrived. Now the ground had to yield to the shovels.

They had arrived. Now the ground had to answer.

The boy who discovered the bottle zeroing in.

Zeroing in.

This is where pretending ended.

This was where pretending ended.

The air seemed to hold its breath.

The shovel struck metal with a bright, ringing clank.

The shovel struck metal with a bright, ringing clank.

Anticipation gave way to the prize.

Anticipation gave way to the prize.

Part wonder, part triumph.

Part wonder, part triumph.

The children were spellbound as they examined the trove of metals and gems that the metal box in the ground had given up. Passing the treasures from hand to hand each discovery met with a sense of disbelief and surreal wonder.

This would become a story told for generations.