“The Stoney Indian himself glared down at me, his profile hidden among the jumbled rocks above and higher still a golden eagle soared. The guardian spirit of the mountain, he was displeased, we were back and we were making it…

I loved Glacier and now I had conquered it. Standing on top of Mt. Cleveland, I had done everything I wanted to do. Next…I vaguely thought, I would hike the Pacific Crest Trail.”

In September Laurel came to Glacier Park a few weeks before the season was out. None of us knew exactly what we’d do next, so Lars, Laurel, Maggie, and I planned to leave together and travel to Moab, Utah, where Laurel lived. Three hours before we planned to leave Glacier for the vagabond road trip, disaster struck.