So as I’ve mentioned before on these boards (probably to everyone’s chagrin by now), I’m finishing up an MA in history. This naturally necessitates reading numerous monographs each semester, almost all of which are too boring or too pedantic IMO to post here. One significant result to this reading is that I’m finding it exceedingly difficult to start new books that aren’t directly related or necessary for my degree. Thus, the last several books that I’ve mentioned in these threads—including the ones I started over Christmas break—I never finished.
However, this semester my work load is somewhat lighter—or at least, it is at this point in my schedule and thus I’m determined to start and finish a book that isn’t related to school. If I suceed it’ll be the first time in a year or two that I’ve manage to do that :o . To that end I’ve began [URL=“https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/1397981.Snowbound”]Snowbound by Ladd Hamilton. It’s the true story of a hunting party that sets off into the Bitterroot wilderness of Idaho in September of 1893. Winter arrives early that year and the party is snowed in, miles from civilization. They must use their wits, cunning, and questionable morals if they are to get out alive.
What makes this story so interesting and, frankly, gut-wrenching is that
[SPOILER] one of the men in the party becomes increasingly ill and, eventually, the decison must be made whether to continue to attempt to be rescued / find their way back to civilization with their sick man, possibly dooming them all to death, or hiking out without him, leaving him to die on his own.
What makes this story double-gut-wrenching for me personally is that
Yes, they left their man behind. A year or three later a survey crew found his body and buried it on a bluff above the river where he was found. The thing is, I’ve actually visited his gravesite, albeit somewhat unintentionally. On a road trip to Montana ca. 2000 my dad and I decided to cut through Idaho using the same route Lewis and Clark too, which today is highway 12. We stopped at the gravesite, which today has a small parking lot a few yards west, stretched our legs, and wandered around a bit. That’s when I first learned this story. Now I’m getting the full story, or at least as much as can be known from survivor-only accounts.
You can see the grave on Google street view. And when you switch it to Earth and zoom out a bit, you can see why these guys were well and truly fucked—even today, there’s a whole lotta nothing for miles and miles and miles in any direction. And this part of the country is some of the coldest in the lower 48 states.
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