Many hikers and backpackers search out areas off the beaten path. There’s something alluring about visiting a trail or lake or summit that few other humans get to see. We covet peace and solitude, and we thrill at the idea of having a campsite, swimming hole, or waterfall all to ourselves.

But tranquility comes at a price. Secluded beauty tends to be safeguarded by challenging terrain. And when things go wrong, it’s hard to tell the difference between solitude and desolation. 

At the crux of every survival story is a pivotal decision point. The choices we make when the stakes are high can mean the difference between salvation and struggle, misery and hope, life and death. When it comes to dire situations in the backcountry, the options can be imperfect and the time in which to weigh them is often short. In today's episode, we witnessed the fast decision-making of three separate survivors, all at the heart of one historic and catastrophic flash flood on the Havasupai reservation of the Grand Canyon. The flood would permanently alter the landscape as well as the lives of those who were caught in its fury. 

Many survival stories include an element of helplessness. When you're far from civilization hurt, unable to move. There's little, you can do to keep yourself alive. It's helplessness that sets in when things get really, really bad, but there's another feeling, however, dim that keeps you going: hope. Though you may be unable to help yourself in the face of extreme danger there's comfort in knowing that someone out there may be looking for you. That comfort, that hope can be what allows you to survive. And if you get into trouble in a place where Search and Rescue is accessible, that hope multiplies.

These highly trained volunteers save countless lives every year. No matter the terrain, no matter the weather emergency responders will answer the call of distress. They're the reason why, even when we're helpless, we're not hopeless.

Polar bears, the grand beasts of the arctic, are one of the most fearsome predators on earth. Healthy males can weigh half a ton, stand eight feet tall on their hind legs and possess enough power to get all that mass moving at 25 miles per hour. Few sites in nature will inspire the sense of panic and doom as seeing a polar bear loping across the ice headed your way. They are aggression sheathed in fur, spiked with two inch claws and armed with teeth designed to catch and hold slippery prey. As a rule, few animals survive encounters with these hyper- carnivores. Matt Dyer is that rare exception. 

When Jeremy Humphrey set out to find a missing hiker in July of 2020, he didn't have any training or fancy rescue gear. But he had something else, legs that could carry him for miles and miles in a day, an intimate knowledge of his local mountain range and a voice inside him telling him that he was the right man for the job.

If you listen to this podcast you can probably relate to a sense of being pulled by the mountains. A feeling that John Muir put memorably when he wrote the mountains are calling and I must go." We answer the call for our own sense of adventure or to recharge our connection to nature. But some of us are called to higher, harder pursuits.

These mountaineers head high with safety equipment skill, and experience. Essential equipment on the glaciated peaks of crampon country, close call country. But just as the mountains call us, they also let us know when not to go and our ability to hear and listen to that call, that can make all the difference.

Months after receiving a pacemaker, mother-of-five Stephanie Ingram was celebrating her newfound health with a solo trek of Washington's Wonderland Trail. But no matter your fitness, Mother Nature can take as much as she gives.

When there's trouble on the trail, who are you supposed to call? In this week's episode, we examine the missed chances that led to the unthinkable one spring evening on the Appalachian Trail.

To be a hiker is to accept a certain amount of risk. And yet the freedom to expose ourselves to that danger is part of the draw, but, as our next story shows, you never know what – or who – is coming down the trail.

In October of 2010 search and rescue volunteer Pam Bales happened across an unconscious man while on a solo hike up New Hampshire's Mt. Washington. As the weather became life-threatening, Bales struggled to help the man to safety, all the while wondering what led him up the peak in the first place.