I left Idaho Falls at 6.15 in the morning because I wanted to be on the trail with the first clean light.

The drive to Swan Valley was empty and quiet the whole way down US 26. The river off to my right,

pale and flat under a thin band of fog that hadn't burned off yet. I'd picked Palisades Creek

because it's straightforward. Follow the water up to the lower lake. Keep going if you feel

good. Turn around before dark. I've hiked it a few times and always told myself I'd finally

push past the lower lake and see the upper. I had a daypack with the basics. Headlamp, filter, a space

blanket, a cheap compass, a paper map that showed the general basin,

plenty of calories, a first aid pouch, bear spray clip to the shoulder strap. I signed the

trail register at the kiosk, wrote my plate number on a scrap of paper, and tucked it under

the windshield wiper like I always do when I'm solo. The air smelled like wet wood and cold granite.

It was late September. Aspen along the creek were already turning.

Coins of yellow against the darker fur on the slopes.

The first couple miles are easy.

The path is wide, loping alongside Palisades Creek, the water pushing fast over bedrock

and fallen limbs. Loud enough, you have to raise your voice if you're close to someone.

I passed to Dad with two kids and hoodies and a woman in waiters working a run below an old logjam.

There's a spot where the canyon narrows and the trail is shaved into the wall with a

decent drop on your left and the creek chewing away below. Everyone gives each other space there

without talking about it. Pass that, it opens, and you can walk without thinking. I kept a

comfortable pace, breathing easy. My plan was simple.

Lower Lake by late morning.

Snack, check the time, see what the sky looked like, and decide if I would go farther.

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