It was 2 a.m. when the sound started coming from the woods. I yelled to my dad to kill the flashlight as I jumped behind a tree. The sound of crunching snow moved closer. As I cowered in the shadows, I knew we weren't the only ones on the hunt.

All of my luck could have changed two years ago when I returned home one night to discover my car's rear windshield had shattered unexpectedly. Being a poor college kid, I really needed the money to fix it; but living in Maine in the middle of winter didn't yield much luck for liberal arts majors.  

I soon discovered Ebb Tide, a local restaurant in Boothbay Harbor, had put out the first round of clues for their annual treasure hunt. The prize was a token worth $350.

I figured my chances were fairly good, since I hiked all the land trust properties. So why not give it a shot? It beat taking empties to the redemption center.

I read the first clue and quickly realized I wasn't dealing with amateurs. The words were ambiguous and used perfect rhythm and rhyme schemes.

I was no detective, but I knew certain words carried multiple meanings.

The word “meadow” jumped out at me in the first clue.   

That's simple. Only one land trust property had the word “meadow” in its name and that was Lobster Cove Meadow off Eastern Avenue.

I drove off thinking the sooner I found the treasure, the sooner I could scrap this plastic tarp hastily taped to the back of my car window.  

Three inches of fresh snow covered the ground at Lobster Meadow Cove. Dressed in black puffy snowsuit, I set out with $350 on my mind.

The daylight dimmed and my hunt turned up no treasure, but each new clue further reinforced my inkling towards the meadow.

The next morning, I returned to the property. My footprints covered the 46 acre lot in every direction, as if someone jacked up on amphetamines decided to take a power-walk.

I combed the preserve with confidence as the morning's clue hinted at a tall eastern pine that stood high atop a ridge. My eyes zoomed in on the most gigantic tree on the property. Its limbs beckoned as it swayed in the wind.

As I contemplated scaling the tree, I spotted a figure in the distance walking one of my many paths. The intruder was encroaching on my turf!

I was no longer playing solitaire in my own house of cards. It was time to bring out the big guns.

Having a land surveyor as a father could be a benefit.  Dad could not only identify every land parcel, but the several generations of family who have owned it, which usually made dinner conversation drier than Lawrence Welk on a Saturday night.

 Heed my advice: never underestimate the brilliance of the Ebb Tide treasure hunt, for it breaks the barriers of conventional clues. Words weaved into rhythmic conundrums can drive a man mad when breaking down the inferences of idioms. Every phrase could hint at the treasure's location.  

It was late Wednesday night when Dad and I tromped through the snow like Navy Seals calibrating our GPS trackers.  

One clue alluded to a rock formation in the shape of a musical note, but who would have thought by the end of the night that I would have an intimate relationship with rocks? I left no crack or cornice untouched.

Dad took a more reasonable approach, examining odd landscapes. He hunched down on a seasoned stump to rest when something caught his eye. How peculiar ... a wire sticking out from the snow. His cold fingers grazed the gangly surface when the sound of muffled voices interrupted his investigation.

Those scary noises in the woods turned out to be a family of three. Our parties joined forces and shared a good laugh at how this seemingly innocent treasure hunt had morphed into an obsessive wild good chase.

We never found the treasure. Over three days I searched. It became my full time job, and all I had to show for it was a sweaty hat, a torn pair of snow pants and a ratty tarp that flapped in the wind as I drove home defeated.

The next day, some guy named Danny Stevens found the treasure. The token was attached to a wire hanging from the stump. The same stump my father sat on less than 24 hours before.

I've decided to abstain from future treasure hunts, citing emotional damages. Instead, I've opted to experience the hunt from behind the scenes.

Behind the scenes of the 2013 Ebb Tide treasure hunt

This year I joined Peter and Nancy Gilchrist, the masterminds behind the Ebb Tide treasure hunt, to hide the token. 

All-nighters are nothing new for Peter and Nancy Gilchrist. For the husband and wife who have owned and operated the Ebb Tide restaurant for 38 years, working in the wee hours of the night has always been a way of life.

So when it came time to hide the token for the annual Ebb Tide treasure hunt last week, the Gilchrists opted for the graveyard shift and relied solely on the moon to guide them through the woods.

Over the course of nine years, the Ebb Tide treasure hunt has become one of the most popular offseason events around the region. One part is solving clues, the other is a wild goose chase through Boothbay Harbor’s public lands, an activity treasure hunters of all ages take part in.

“This year will probably be pretty difficult,” said Peter Gilchrist, as he pored over charts and hand drawn maps, hours before he hid the treasure token. Dan Stevens and his treasure hunting brigade found the Ebb Tide token the night of March 26 hidden in Pine Tree Preserve off Route 96.

Gilchrist said he started the treasure hunt as a way to get the community involved and have fun outdoors during the doldrums of winter.

The Gilchrists said their love for clues and treasure hunting dates back to Peter's childhood days spent in Minnesota.

Back then the St. Paul Pioneer Press hosted a treasure hunt. Peter Gilchrist recalled hundreds of people with pick axes descending on a frozen pond, swinging wildly at the ice. “They cut down several inches in the ice and poured milk over the treasure. It wasn’t very fair,” he said.

Nancy Gilchrist said her favorite part about hosting the treasure hunt is all the stories she hears. In some instances friendly rivalries have formed over past hunts. One year the sewer district was pitted against the water district, which made for a pretty fierce competition, Nancy Gilchrist said. Another year, she recalled someone playfully tailing she and her husband as they drove home from work.

Of course, Peter Gilchrist led them astray on an absurd chase around town.

The Gilchrists do their homework months before the Ebb Tide treasure is hidden. They research clues, scope out new locations and survey the best place where “x marks the spot.”

It's no secret the Gilchrists are tough treasure hiders. “Tough” doesn't just refer to the degree of difficulty in deciphering their clues, but also plays into their physical grit when navigating through the Maine woods.

On the night the Gilchrists hid this year's treasure, they had made it only a half a mile through tangled brambles when Peter Gilchrist fell through the ice. It probably wouldn't have been nearly as troublesome had Nancy Gilchrist not lost one of her contact lens at the same time.

With soaked feet and seemingly half blind, the Gilchrists were undeterred and pressed on. Within five minutes, he fell through the ice again. This time the smell of decomposing rot released from the bog beneath their feet. With his boots half filled with glob, Peter Gilchrist lit up a cigar and continued hiking.

Perhaps hiding the Ebb Tide treasure with the Gilchrists didn't seem all that glamorous, if it had not been for the mild March temperatures and the eerie glow of the waxing moon beaming through the trees.

Peter Gilchrist's motto is: “Any hike that you return home safe is a good hike.” In years past, the Gilchrists have hidden the token in blinding snow storms, and frigid temperatures, but the severity of winter's wrath rarely ruffles these two.

At about midnight they had reached their destination. Careful not to appear too conspicuous, Peter Gilchrist pinned the token to a white pine, and brushed away his foot steps in the snow. With the moon dipping below the tree line, the Ebb Tide masterminds stealthily crept through the dark, back to their getaway car.

It was 1:30 a.m. by the time they returned home. With another “good hike” in the books, they decided to start working on the clues while the night was still young.