This is a difficult thing for me to type out, and I am doing so against the advice of the few people I have actually told about this in person.

I am not looking for validation, and I am certainly not looking for advice on how to handle what happened.

I am posting this because I feel a weight that needs

to be displaced slightly, and because I think people who spend time deep in the backcountry

need to understand that being prepared means more than having the right gear and the right maps.

Sometimes preparation counts for nothing against things that should not exist. I will not use real last names for my companions out of respect for their privacy and their ongoing difficulty in processing the events of last September.

I will refer to them as Victoria and Jake.

We were a group of three experienced hikers.

I have spent 15 years hiking sections of the Pacific Crest Trail

and various routes through the Rockies. Victoria was our navigator, a former geologist with an

almost supernatural ability to read topographical maps and terrain features. Jake was the

strongest among us, a marathon runner who could carry 50 pounds in his pack and never

complain about the incline. We were not novices, and we did not take risks lightly. We had planned

a four-day loop hike in a very remote, unmaintained section of the Grand Staircase Escalante

National Monument in southern Utah.

Our itinerary involved navigating a series of slot canyons and high desert plateaus,

miles away from established trails, and even further from the nearest paved road.

We filed our plan with the Bureau of Land Management Office,

carried a satellite communication device,

and had rations for five days just in case.

Our trip began on September 14th.

We arrived at the dirt trailhead early in the morning

...