My name is Aaron Miller, and I've hiked hundreds of miles alone through some of America's wildest country.

Solitude never bothered me. It energized me. I was a wildlife photographer by trade, so hiking solo was less a hobby than a profession.

I'd trekked through glacier, explored Yellowstone's

backcountry, and navigated the Bob Marshall Wilderness without incident. But the Continental Divide Trail

had a different aura, especially where it sliced through the rugged bitter root mountains along the

Montana-Ida-Ida-O border. It was wild, remote, and notoriously disorienting.

I'd begun this particular section at Chief Joseph Pass. It was early October. The air was

crisp and clear, and large trees shimmered gold amid the dark green of the pines.

My goal was straightforward. Three days hiking southbound toward Lemhigh Pass.

The first few hours passed without issue.

I adjusted my pack, kept my camera accessible, and moved at a steady pace,

feeling confident and alive as the forest thickened around me.

By mid-morning, the trail had become a relentless climb, switchbacks carved

steeply into loose shale and gravel. My thighs burned slightly with exertion, but I embraced it.

This was why I was out here, to push my boundaries and capture images of untouched wilderness.

I paused to check my progress on the Garmin GPS clip to my chest strap.

That was when I first felt something was off.

According to the GPS, my elevation was exactly 7,552.

Feet.

The coordinates hadn't budged since the last check nearly two hours ago. That didn't make

sense. I'd been steadily gaining altitude for at least two miles, yet the device said otherwise.

I frowned, checking the signal strength. Full bars, clear satellite connection, but the

...