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On January 30, as I sat in the back seat of a car stuck in ski traffic, I tapped on an Instagram story from a college friend. It was a missing poster for my friend Max.
Missing? I scrolled frantically for more information; a dozen of my friends had shared the same poster. Max had gone for a trail run in San Diego the day before, I learned, and he hadn’t come home.
As
Backpacker’s skills and survival editor
, I’ve seen far too many tragic stories that start the same way, but I’ve also seen plenty end happily. Max was an athletic, capable outdoorsman. We’d rock climbed together often in college. He was the strongest climber I knew (and the most supportive partner), incredibly fit, and very, very smart.