(1/4) Last Camp Before Treeline

PART I — “LAST CAMP BEFORE TREELINE” I was not alone when this happened. That matters.

My friend Evan Mercer and I drove up from Boulder in late September—off-season, cold at night,

quiet enough that you could hear your own breathing. We planned a simple two-night trip near

the Mummy Range, nothing technical. Just hiking, a fire, and distance from

people. The Forest Service road ended where it always did. We parked,

hiked three miles in, and found a legal dispersed campsite near a creek.

Everything checked out. Fire ring. Old boot prints. Someone had been

there recently. That first night, Evan mentioned the smell. Not smoke.