When I was deciding how to use my REI dividend back in May of this year, I had one major purchase on the top of my wish list. I wanted a Garmin inReach Mini GPS device.

Retailing at $350, this satellite communicator was a splurge for me. It was right on par with upgrading a major piece of my hiking gear (e.g., that new down quilt I was coveting). Spending that kind of cash is big deal for a frugal minimalist like me. So, I debated long and hard about this purchase while holed up during the early months of the pandemic.

But here’s the thing. I love solo backpacking. And with Covid-19 wrecking havoc on all my prior 2020 hiking plans, I was beginning to shift toward some smaller, more remote adventures for the summer. I wanted to hit some trails that wouldn’t require me to resupply in small communities or risk contracting/spreading the virus. I longed for trails that were a bit less crowded. I didn’t want to cross paths with the horde of PCT, AT, and CDT Class of 2020 thru-hiking hopefuls searching for somewhere easy to replace their dashed dreams.

Yet, the obvious downside to hiking off-the-beaten-path would be the lack of other hikers around to help me if something went terribly wrong. If I fell and broke my leg on a solo hike out there, I didn’t want wait a week (or longer) for someone to come along and help me to safety.

Look, I’d read Aron Ralson’s book, Between a Rock and a Hard Place (which was later made into the movie 127 Hours starring James Franco). I can tell you know right now. I don’t have the fortitude to cut my own arm off with a multi-tool after a tragic accident!

Having this little device on my adventures would provide a safety net that worked virtually anywhere. So despite my initial hesitation over this device’s price tag, it quickly became an absolute “must-have item” for my upcoming summer adventures.

At only 3.5 ounces, I felt like the Garmin inReach Mini was well worth its weight in gold. If I was going to head out on a bunch of solo backcountry hikes on lightly trafficked trails, I wanted a little peace of mind.

WAS IT WORTH IT?

After reading everything I could get my hands on, and watching a bunch of YouTube videos, I learned there are two aspects to making this GPS satellite communicator work.

• First, you need to buy the inReach Mini device.
• Then you have to activate it with Garmin’s subscription service so that that device goes “live” with the satellite system.

One of the best aspects about this subscription service though is you can activate or suspend it on a monthly basis. You only need to pay for the months when you actually need it. Plus, there are three different subscription plans – The Safety Plan, The Recreation Plan, or the Expedition Plan – depending on how often you want to text, check the weather, or track your specific route.

I opted for the most minimal plan this summer, knowing this was truly a back-up device on my adventures. I wasn’t heading out on some grand expedition in Antarctica or on FKT attempt where people might want to track my exact route.

I just wanted to have a few preset messages I could send back home. Plus, I’d have the ability to text some additional messages through Garmin’s Earthmate App and the SOS option for emergencies.

My first two big thru-hikes of the summer season were the North Umpqua Trail and the Tahoe Rim Trail. After these two short adventures, I knew I really liked having the Garmin as an addition to my standard gear set-up.

Being able to send my family a preset message each evening to let them know I was alive was reassuring for all of us. Knowing I had a way to communicate, no matter how far I was from a cell tower, was like having the benefits of a hiking partner, while still allowing me to hike solo.

In fact, I really couldn’t see any downside to carrying the inReach Mini other than the initial cost of buying the device.

It weighed next to nothing. I already carried an external battery, so it was easy enough to keep it charged. And it didn’t really change my style of backpacking. I wasn’t like I was now emboldened to take risks or venture off into wilderness areas beyond my skill set. I still spent hours carefully planning my routes. And I still left detailed itinerary behind with my loved ones. Nothing much changed.

THE UNFORESEEN TRAGEDY

As you might have already guessed, I would encounter a moment when my Garmin inReach Mini would ultimately save my life.

My last big adventure of the 2020 season was a thru-hike of the Uinta Highline Trail (UHT) in northeastern Utah. This 105-mile trail would my opportunity to bag my 23rd state high point, as well as hiking at much higher altitude than most of prior long-distance adventures.

I meticulously planned for this thru-hike, knowing that it would take me deeper into the backcountry than other trails. The UHT would require me to really flex my navigation and route finding skills. And it would push myself to grow and adapt as a hiker. Yet, I was super excited for the challenge.

One aspect that I wasn’t really looking forward to though was the weather.

I planned to start my thru-hike at the beginning of September when the temperature in Utah was still hovering in the mid-90s, and the state was experiencing record-breaking heat and fires. However, the weather forecast also showed unseasonably cold temperatures descending on day 4 of my journey. On Labor Day, a powerful cold front was going to plunge temperatures by up to 60 degrees overnight!

So, I needed to pack for this trip like I was hiking during the peak of summer AND in early winter! I was none too happy about carrying all this extra gear, but better safe than sorry, right?

The full details of what occurred on between September 7-9, 2020 is over on my trail journal. But, the pared down version goes something like this.

I summited Kings Peak (13,528′) on Monday afternoon and returned down to lower ground (11,200′) to make camp for the evening. I’d checked the weather forecast once again on the way back down, and it now showed a 30-60% chance of rain/snow overnight. Yet the following day was still expected to be sunny, cold and windy.

When I woke the next morning, not only had several inches of snow fallen, but I now found myself in the midst of a genuine blizzard! Steady 20 mph winds blew the snow into my tent and the wind continued to change direction and swirl around me. My tent collapsed multiple times as the wind gusted above 30 mph. I tried to move my tent to another location nearby to find a better wind break. But no luck!

Then I hiked 2.5 miles in snow drifts up to my knees to get over a pass and down to more better terrain. All this was for naught. Several FEET of snow fell during the next 12 hours, and the daytime temperature never rose above 15°F (with a windchill of 3°F).

My situation went from bad to worse, as my tent continued to repeatedly collapse in the strong winds. It was a never-ending battle to try to brush the snow out of my tent so I could keep my down sleeping bag dry. My shoes and gloves were frozen solid from my attempts to find a better spot in the storm. And, as I studied my map over and over to adjust my plan, I could see I was still nearly 20 miles for the closest trailhead. This was NOT good.

I’d planned for the cold weather to descend on me, but I hadn’t anticipated a true blizzard in early September!!! Especially when the temperature was in the 90s the prior three days!!

The abysmal weather was showing no signs of abating, and each time my tent collapsed in the the strong wind, I became more and more concerned that I might not make it through the night. All my efforts to stay dry and warm were seeming to fail. My options were dwindling, and I knew things might take a fatal turn. I needed to make a decision.

And so, I reluctantly flipped open the cover on the SOS button my my inReach Mini and I got ready to press it to trigger a rescue.

My gut sank as I contemplated my next move. No one wants to admit they the situation around them is completely out of hand. I walked myself into this mess, shouldn’t I be able to walk myself out of it?

As my finger hovered over the button, I worried about how would I be judged by my fellow long-distance hikers. They weren’t there to see these extreme conditions. And they wouldn’t know how much preparation I’d done beforehand. They’d only hear that I’d had to be bailed out.

Despite these depressing thoughts, I know in my heart that being tough only gets you so far when your life is actually in danger. I had to remind myself of reality here.

There are no posthumous medals for hypothermia. And there’s no ‘bonus points’ for losing your fingers to frostbite. I had a family who relied on me back home, and I needed to focus on my survival, not what other hikers might think of me. Despite my best planning efforts, it was time to protect my life and welfare. I needed help.

SOS

I had no real idea how the SOS feature functioned after I pushed it. All I really knew is the system was designed to avoid being accidentally triggered. This meant I needed to flip off the protective cover to get to the actual SOS button. Then I needed to continuously press the button while the timer counted down backwards from from 30 on the screen.

My SOS signal was relayed from my location in Utah to the GEOS International Emergency Rescue Coordination Center (IERCC) in Texas. An automatic message appeared on my inReach’s screen, which read, “I have an emergency, and I need you to send help.”

Once I saw that message on the screen, my I knew this situation was getting real. Sure there was an option to cancel the SOS. But I would never have taken the extreme measure of pressing the SOS button unless I was ready to cross over the threshold of summoning a real-world rescue.

A few minutes later, a text message popped up asking me the nature of my emergency. I quickly explained my location (even though they had my precise GPS coordinates) and that I was worried I wasn’t likely to make it safely through another night given the unending blizzard and my gear’s conditions.

The incoming response asked if I was alone (yes) and whether I had any medical concerns (no). After providing the details of what trail I entered on, they IERCC did three things. They sent me the number for the Search and Rescue (SAR) Coordinator at the local sheriff’s office so I could text him directly throughout my rescue. They notified my emergency contact person (my husband) of my situation. And they updated me that the sheriff’s office was working on sending a helicopter out to rescue me.

At that moment a wave of relief rolled over me. I was going to be saved. But, only minutes later, a follow-up message came in.

Due to weather SAR is unable to send a helicopter. They are sending a team on horseback with a 10-15 hour ETA, depending on weather.

My stomach sank when I read this. 10-15 hours??!? Could I survive until then? I wouldn’t have pressed the SOS button if I thought I could make it through the night! WTF??!

Upon reflection though, I came to realize, the issues preventing me from hiking out of there were the very same set of factors that was going to make my rescue so difficult.

If I had a broken leg in the backcountry, SAR would just deploy a helicopter to come get me. But the problem I was facing here wasn’t a subjective one. This blizzard and high altitude was just as big of an obstacle for my rescuers trying to make their way into the backcountry as it was for me in getting out.

And so, it was time to focus on staying dry and surviving for as long as it took to come get me out of there.

MISSION FAILURE

Over the next nine hours of my ordeal, the State of Utah would make three rescue attempts to get me off that mountain. And the entire time, the SAR Coordinator from the local sheriff’s office was incredibly responsive and clearly invested in getting me to safety. He repeatedly checked on my welfare and provided me with updates on the status of his efforts.

Our first rescue attempt was by helicopter around 8 pm. Not long after it got dark, I received a message that a helicopter was en route to my location and 35 minutes out. I was warned to have everything ready to go because they wouldn’t have much time on the ground due the the poor weather conditions.

When the helicopter was 10 minutes out from my location, I had my gear packed up and I was sitting on a rock with my tent wrapped around me in an futile attempt to block the wind. My headlamp was turned on to pinpoint my location.

I’d shifted from my original spot over to a flat, open area where the helicopter could land more easily as I’d been directed to do by the SAR coordinator. (NOTE: during a rescue you don’t move from your GPS location unless expressly directed — especially in whiteout snow conditions).

And then I just sat there as the brutal winds and snow whipped around me. I waited. And waited. It seemed like forever sitting on that rock and shivering in the cold.

About 15 minutes later, I could hear the hum of the rotors and see the lights on the bottom of the helicopter. They were coming!! But before my excitement could grow, the helicopter was suddenly turning and flying away. That’s when I got a text update from the SAR coordinator.

Helicopter was unable to continue due to strong winds and no visibility. They will try first thing in the morning if needed, I have a horse team heading your way. They are several hours out. Do what you need to do to stay warm. We are not giving up on you. Please stay where you are.

Nooooooooo!!! The helicopter was so close! My heart sank with disappointment when I read these words. I wanted to scream out of frustration. But I didn’t have time for a pity party. I needed to find somewhere out of the strong winds to protect myself from the continued onslaught of snow. I needed to stay alive until the horse team could arrive.

I struggled to find somewhere to block the wind in the pitch-black darkness with the snow swirling around me. My prior tent spot was no longer in sight. Snow and ice was crusting up on the Buff I had pulled up over lower half my face. My hands were freezing to the point I was losing feeling.

I’d broken down my unstable tent to meet the helicopter, and now there was no way I could possibility get my it set back up again in this wind. Nor could I hammer those tent stakes back into the frozen ground, even if I had all my tent stakes. Which I undoubtedly did not.

I searched my surroundings for shelter. There were no tall trees nearby, so I tried to press myself between some evergreen shrubs half-buried in the snow. It only took seconds to realize they provided no protection at all. Damn it. I needed to find somewhere else. I couldn’t stay out here in the storm. I forced myself to look around and just find something!! Anything!

After stumbling around in the snow drifts and the dark for several minutes, I eventually found two tire-sized boulders on a slope and decided to make them work. I wedged myself between the boulders and flipped my tent upside down (so the thicker bathtub floor was toward the sky). Then I slid inside the tent like it was a bivy sack and used my backpack behind me as a backrest on the hill’s slope.

With this hasty shelter in place, I was able to wrestle my sleeping bag out of my pack and wrap it around me like a cocoon inside this makeshift tent-bivy. Then I pulled all the slack of the tent fabric taut and tucked under me it as tightly as possible to keep the strong wind from blowing me away.

I’ll admit, my set-up wasn’t pretty. But I was alive. And I was protected enough to pull my icy gloves off and let my hands thaw while I waited for new instructions. I was exhausted and cold. Yet, the only one who was going to keep me alive in this moment was me. I just needed to hang on…

PART TWO

Unbeknownst to me at the time, the horse rescue was being called off too. The horses made it to the trailhead and started in my direction, but then they refused to continue. The heavy snowfall pummeling them was blocking their vision. The horses became skittish and stubbornly stalled on the trail. I can’t blame them though. It was truly miserable out there.

The National Guard also refused to fly in the conditions. The local fire departments didn’t have helicopters designed to fly at high altitude or pilots who felt skilled enough to make the rescue. The blizzard conditions continued to swirl around me and things were looking mighty grim.

Around 9:40 pm, the SAR coordinator texted me again to inform me they were hoping to try another helicopter rescue during a break in the storm after midnight. I just needed to hang on. The Utah Highway Patrol might be able to fly. Hold on for a few more hours. Stay calm.

He checked back in with me again just before midnight and asked about my physical health. I was tired but doing my best to stay alert. My hands and feet were cold, but not frozen yet. I had taken my soaking wet gloves and shoes off to preserve my body heat inside my sleeping bag. And I was just focusing on getting through each hour. And then the next hour. And so on.

Around midnight, the wind began to die down. Instead of a constant 20-30 mph winds, it seem to be only blowing 10 mph now. When I peeked out of my cocoon, I could see the moon above me obscured by a thin layer of clouds. I could even make out the outline of the mountains across the lake instead of just a wall of white of snow blowing in front of me. Please, oh please. Let them come back out here, I pleaded to myself.

With this break in the weather, the helicopter took off once again. Their initial ETA was only 20 minutes away, but it took them twice that time to get there. Then I saw the lights on the bottom of the helicopter approaching from the west. I had my headlamp on to pinpoint my location, and I was using the flashlight from my iPhone to wave back and forth so they could see me on the ground.

I’m fairly certain the pilot signaled me by blinking a blue light on and off, but maybe I was hallucinating. Then the SAR coordinator texted me through my Garmin telling me to stay put while the pilot landed. Do not approach the helicopter, they will come to get me. And so I sat there watching it all unfold around me like a fever dream.

The pilot made a giant circle around the area. As he flew directly over me then turned to head back toward the direction he’d come from, my heart sank. Were they having to abandon the rescue yet again? Were they leaving me here a second time?

Then he slowly circled the helicopter back around and made a second loop over me. My mind continued to race. Were they circling because they were still looking for me? Or were they just looking for a decent spot to land? What was going on?? I was in a complete vacuum of knowledge here and hoping for the best. Then the wind was picking up again, and I worried they wouldn’t be able rescue me if they didn’t hurry up and land!

Just then, the pilot began to hover. Then he slowly lowered the helicopter onto a flat area at the far end of the lake and landed about 300 meters from me. His co-pilot jumped out and started wading through the knee- and thigh-deep drifts of snow toward my position in the rocks. As he got close, he yelled at me to grab my stuff and follow him. I’d already shoved my feet back into my frozen shoes as they were circling overhead. So, I snatched up my pack, my tent and my trekking poles and stumbled on frozen feet behind him.

It only took us 5 minutes to make our way back to the helicopter, but I was was breathing like a racehorse the entire way. My body was running on pure adrenaline now as I trudged through the snow. Yet, I just focused on putting one foot in front of the other. The helicopter kept getting bigger and more defined as we neared.

This was really happening! I was finally being rescued.

Eight hours after I pressed that SOS button, I was climbing into the helicopter and found myself being strapped in by one of the pilots. And then the rotors were spinning again and we were flying.

Our initial take-off was precarious. The wind kept changing direction and the pilots had to fight to get us up to a flying altitude. But, I didn’t care. I was 100% better protected from the elements than I was 10 minutes ago. Or an hour ago. Or 10 hours ago. Hopefully, my ordeal was nearly over!

RESCUED!

It only took us 15 minutes to fly to the small mountain town of Kamas, Utah, where we were met by an ambulance that would take me the rest of the way to the hospital in Park City. Before I knew it, I was lying in a ER bed and being treated for hypothermia and the cold injuries to my hands and feet. Looking back, it all seems like a blur now.

It would take some time to recover from my physical injuries (not to mention digesting the mental trauma from that day), but I was ALIVE!!! I had so much to be thankful for in that moment. And before long, I was being reunited with my family once again.

Upon my release from the hospital, one of the very first things I did was call the SAR coordinator to express my immense gratitude. This man advocated on my behalf for over 10 hours, and he is directly responsible for saving my life. You cannot repay that. I won’t divulge all the details about how I am returning the kindness that he, the pilots, the EMTs, and the nurses at the hospital showed to me. That is a private matter. Yet, there was something else I needed to make public.

I needed to tell my story.

Once this rescue was over, I could have slunk off into anonymity and pretended none of this ever happened. Only my closest family and friends would ever have to know. I wouldn’t have to face the shame of being rescued, or the sidelong glances from other long-distance hikers. But hiding in the shadows isn’t how I live my life. And doing so would allow a lot of misconceptions and lore about wilderness rescues to continue.

Far too often, people assume that dramatic rescues like mine are a result of recklessness or gross negligence. And perhaps a small fraction of them are. But, I’m not some daredevil who intentionally puts myself in a precarious situations. I don’t take undue risks or throw caution to the wind just because I have the safety net of a SOS button. I took the EXACT same level of detailed care that I always do when planning my backcountry adventures. Yet accidents happen. People fall and hurt themselves. Freak storms take even the most prepared people by surprise. None of us has a crystal ball when we hit the trailhead.

Plenty of my fellow hikers and backpackers will read about my near-miss and continue to assume they don’t need a GPS locator on their solo backcountry adventures. I can hear the chorus of grumbles already. “It’s not ultralight.” Or, “It costs too much.” And “Why bother? I’ve never actually needed one in the past.”

The list of excuses will be endless, I’m sure. But, I’m here to stomp on the illusion that you’re safe just because you’ve hiked thousands and thousands of miles.

I am the proof to that any hiker – even a hyper-prepared one – can still find themselves in need of emergency help. I took dozens of safety precautions on this trip, including checking the weather forecast just a matter of hours before this freak storm. I had all kinds of plans to get through the cold weather and hike out under my own power. Yet Mother Nature laughed in my face nonetheless.

FINAL THOUGHTS

In the end, I’m eternally grateful I had the forethought to bring a GPS locator along to help signal for help. The year 2020 has been filled with so much distress and chaos in our lives. And I’m glad this unfortunate event didn’t contribute to that terrible streak.

I can unequivocally vouch that buying the Garmin inReach Mini was one of the best hiking gear purchases of my life. When everything began to spiral out of control, it really was the difference between my safety and a potentially fatal outcome.

If you’re thinking about getting a satellite messenger, like the Garmin inReach mini, there are dozens of articles online that can help you decide which one is right for you. Here’s a handful of the resources I consulted before making my own purchase:

• How to Choose Between a PLB and a Satellite Messenger – REI
• In-Depth Garmin inReach Mini Review – The Hiking Guy
• The Best Satellite Messengers and Personal Locator Beacons – Treeline Review
• Best Satellite Messangers of 2020 – Gear Lab
• What Really Happens When You Trigger a Wilderness SOS – Backpacker Magazine

Stay safe out there. I’m sure I’ll be hitting the trail again soon – and I know the one gear item that definitely be coming along for the next adventure!