It was the summer of 2012 when Garrett Beckwith and his 19-year-old daughter, Della, set out on what should have been another unforgettable expedition — a climb up Wyoming’s Mount Hooker, one of the most formidable peaks in the Wind River Range. For the Beckwith family, nature wasn’t just a hobby; it was home. Garrett, a veteran mountaineer, had raised his children among the forests and granite cliffs, teaching them how to respect the wilderness — and, above all, how to find beauty in solitude. For him and Della, the mountains were not just landscapes, but shared language — a sacred space where they understood each other completely.
The Climb That Never Ended
Standing nearly 12,500 feet tall, Mount Hooker is not a climb for the faint-hearted. Its sheer granite north face looms like a wall of stone and shadow, stretching nearly 1,800 feet vertically. The approach alone takes days — across unmarked trails, through thin air, and into a wilderness known for sudden storms. Among climbers, Hooker is a legend — a test of endurance and humility.
Garrett and Della knew what they were getting into. They packed meticulously, checked weather forecasts, and carried enough supplies for several days. Other hikers saw them near base camp in good spirits, chatting about their route and timing. They planned to summit and descend within three days. But as days turned into a week with no word, concern turned quickly to dread.
The Search That Found Nothing
By the fifth day, search-and-rescue teams were dispatched. Helicopters scanned the mountainsides, dogs traced faint scents through the snow and rubble, and volunteer climbers risked their own safety on the treacherous faces of Hooker. For weeks, they searched every ridge, every crevasse, every ledge.
Nothing.
No equipment. No campsite. No trace of the Beckwiths.
The mountain had simply swallowed them whole.
The official report listed their disappearance as “unresolved.”
For Garrett’s wife, Susan, and their two sons, the ambiguity was unbearable. “You can mourn when there’s a grave,” she said in an interview years later. “But when there’s just silence — when the mountain keeps them — it’s a different kind of pain.”
Theories and Rumors
As months passed with no sign of the Beckwiths, theories began to circulate. Some believed they’d been caught in one of the mountain’s notorious summer storms — the kind that drops in from nowhere with winds strong enough to rip ropes from anchors. Others suspected a misstep on the steep vertical routes, a fall into one of Hooker’s deep, hidden crevasses where no rescue team could ever reach.
Then came the stranger speculations — that they’d chosen to vanish, that they’d stumbled into some hidden cave system, that perhaps Mount Hooker itself had become their resting place, keeping them in its silent grip forever.
One rescuer later said, “That mountain has places no human should ever stand. Once it takes something, it doesn’t give it back.”
The Bond That Defined Them
Those who knew Garrett and Della described them as inseparable — a quiet father and a determined daughter united by their love for the wild. Garrett worked as a contractor by trade, but in the climbing world, he was known for his precision, patience, and respect for the mountains. Della was his mirror in spirit — fiery, fearless, and eager to prove herself worthy of the trails her father had blazed before her.
Their connection deepened after Susan, Garrett’s wife, fell ill years earlier. In the face of uncertainty and fear, father and daughter found healing in the wilderness. Climbing became their way of speaking without words — a rhythm of trust and understanding built into each ascent.
Eleven Years of Silence
For over a decade, Mount Hooker kept its secret. Every year, on the anniversary of their disappearance, climbers left flowers or prayer flags at the trailhead. No one expected answers anymore — only remembrance.
Then, in the summer of 2023, a group of hikers exploring an obscure ridge stumbled upon something strange: a small bivouac camp partially buried under rockfall. Inside were two weathered sleeping bags, a rusted climbing stove, and a journal sealed in plastic. Rangers soon confirmed that the equipment matched gear commonly sold around 2010–2012 — the same era the Beckwiths vanished.
The real discovery, however, was inside the journal.
It contained just a few entries, written in Della’s handwriting, shaky but legible. The last one read:
“The storm’s coming in faster than we thought. Dad says we’ll ride it out here. He’s calm — I’m trying to be. The wind sounds like the mountain’s alive.”
After that, the pages were blank.
The Mountain’s Final Secret
The discovery reignited hope for closure, but when an expedition team returned to investigate further, they faced a familiar enemy — danger. The surrounding cliffs were unstable, the rock shifting underfoot. Rangers concluded that any attempt to excavate the site could trigger another collapse. The Beckwiths’ resting place, it seemed, would remain undisturbed.
“The mountain gave us a whisper,” said one rescuer, “but not the full story.”
Mount Hooker has long been known as one of the most demanding and unforgiving peaks in North America — a mountain that tests not only skill but humility. Climbers speak of it with reverence, and some say the Beckwiths’ disappearance became part of its legend — a haunting reminder of nature’s indifference and the human spirit’s unrelenting need to seek its edge.
Remembered in Light
For the Beckwith family, the discovery of the camp brought bittersweet closure. There would be no remains to bring home, no gravesite to visit. But now there was something tangible — a final trace, a confirmation that their last moments were spent together, doing what they loved most.
Locals have begun referring to the spot as “Beckwith Camp.” Each year, climbers leave small tokens there — a carabiner, a ribbon, or a simple note. One recent visitor wrote, “For Garrett and Della — may every sunrise find you on the summit.”
At sunset, when the north face of Mount Hooker glows pink and gold, those who know their story say it’s impossible not to think of them — a father and daughter silhouetted against the cliffs, frozen in time, their bond unbroken.
What the Mountain Keeps, and What It Teaches
More than a decade after their disappearance, the Beckwiths’ story continues to echo across the climbing community. It’s a cautionary tale about risk, but also a testament to love — the kind of love that pushes beyond fear, beyond reason, into the very heart of the wild.
“The mountain took them,” one family friend said softly, “but it also gave them what they were always looking for — peace, together.”
And so, each summer, when the winds howl through the granite canyons and the air carries the sharp scent of pine, Mount Hooker reminds those who dare to climb it of Garrett and Della Beckwith — two souls who answered nature’s call, vanished into its silence, and became part of its eternal story.
In the end, their legacy isn’t about how they disappeared, but how they lived — side by side, reaching for the sky.