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Dave I'm Dave Cawley, host of the Cold Podcast. Uinta Triangle is a standalone story written and produced by the same team that makes Cold. Now, if you're enjoying Uinta Triangle here in the Cold feed, do me a huge favor and follow youw into Triangle on its Own feed. Doing this is the best way to support the KOLD team while we're working on Season four. Thanks. I heard from my bed his bugle breath go by and the drum of his heart in the measure of an old song I shall travel into silence and in that fierce country when we meet he will know he has been away too long.
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Judith Wright, Lost Child.
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The dim blue light of pre dawn began to warm as Artlang arrived at Duchesne County's makeshift search command post. Art, I'll remind you, is the backpacker and mountaineer who hiked the Uintah Highline Trail about a week behind the missing Australian trekker Eric Robinson. Art had finished his hike on a Friday afternoon. Now on Monday morning, he was eager to join the hunt.
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I said to myself, I'm gonna go back in, and I loaded up my pack again.
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He parked near a grove of quaking aspen trees surrounded by sagebrush, just off to the side of Moon Lake. It was the start of August 15, 2011, day eight of the search for Eric, and in Art's view, the sheriff in charge of the search was at
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that point kind of desperate.
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Desperate for help, desperate for ideas, desperate for a stroke of good luck. Eric's wife, Marilyn Kohlstra, and her daughter, Rachel Marsden, were desperate, too desperate to be included, to be taken seriously, they felt. The Duchenne county sheriff had held them at arm's length ever since they'd arrived in Utah, failing to return phone calls, not involving them in the search efforts.
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And Rachel came with her hiking boots and her hiking gear. She was equipped and ready to go out there and search for her stepfather. More her close friend than stepfather. She was a woman of action and wanted to be useful.
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So at the same time Art was arriving at Moon Lake, Marilyn and Rachel were on their way to the headquarters of the Duchesne County Sheriff's Office.
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I think it was like 4am and they were driving. It was a long drive just to get to there.
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It took about an hour to get from the house where they were staying in Park City, Utah, to the small rural town of Duchesne.
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It was just a building in the middle of somewhere that seemed to be not very busy. Not a lot of personnel in there.
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The sheriff's chief deputy, Dave Boren escorted Marilyn and Rachel into a room called the eoc, or Emergency Operations Center, a utilitarian space with fluorescent lights, plastic folding tables and a bank of landline telephones. It was supposed to be the nerve center of the search, but to Rachel it seemed strangely quiet.
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It was like, really, is this it? There's just like you and us?
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She'd expected to see a crowd of people getting ready to head out into the mountains. Where were they? Boren explained the searchers were meeting at Moon lake, about a 45 minute drive farther north. That's where Rachel wanted to be. Not in some office building. She said she wanted to go out looking for Eric.
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You know, I think I made it known that I felt that I could do that and I was willing to do that if they thought it was helpful.
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Boren told her that wasn't a good idea.
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It was like, you leave it to us. We've got this under control.
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In the eyes of the sheriff's office, placing a family member of a missing person in the mountains, especially one who had never set foot in the Uintas before, was a recipe for trouble. But to Rachel, the response felt dismissive and patronizing, like, don't you worry, little lady. Let the big boys handle this. Marilyn and Rachel's first in person meeting with the people in charge of the search was off to a rough start. And it got worse when someone, Marilyn doesn't remember who tried to break the tension with a joke. They said it was a good thing she'd been in Australia when Eric disappeared. After all, the romantic partner is always the prime suspect.
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Yeah, that was. That was the comment.
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What a crazy. What a wild thing to say to someone's spouse who's just flown across the world. Yeah, but, you know, thankfully she wasn't there and they didn't waste time and resources.
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Rachel laughs about it now, but she wasn't laughing then. The search for Eric was entering its second week, and she knew the odds were against him.
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Too much time's passed. There's something untoward's happened, but what's that untoward? And are we actually going to figure that out?
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Search and rescue missions are expensive. They require huge expenditures for wages and overtime, equipment, food and fuel. They also expose the rescuers to risk. Searchers can confront the very same hazards that caused the person they are looking for to go missing in the first place. There comes a time when it's just too expensive or too dangerous for a search to continue. But to the families of the missing, talking about these practicalities can come across as insensitive, like officials are placing a dollar figure on the value of a human life. While researching this story, I came across a study that analyzed five years of search and rescue data from the state of Oregon. It said most survivors were found within two days of a person being reported missing, and almost all searches concluded within four days. With the recovery of the victim either alive or dead beyond four days, the odds of mission success dropped to about 1 in 100. That's the point, the study said, when it's often not worth the expense or the risk of a search. Continuing the search for Eric had already dragged on twice that long. But the authors of the study also cautioned not to rely too strictly on these statistics. They stressed odds of survival after four days were low, but not zero. There are always outliers in the data. Marilyn still hoped Eric could be that outlier. The one out of a hundred.
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How hard can it be to find somebody out there?
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My name is Dave Cawley. You are listening to Uinta Triangle, an audio documentary from KSL Podcasts. This is episode six, Dead Reckoning. A wispy layer of cirrus cloud high in the atmosphere turned pink, then orange, catching rays of the rising sun as Marilyn and Rachel drove away from the sheriff's office headquarters, headed for Moon Lake.
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It was such a trek to even arrive at where they were searching from, but it was a. It was a big process.
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Moon Lake sits right on the southern boundary of the Hy Uintas wilderness area, about 12 miles, or 20 kilometers south of the Highline Trail. The mountain air felt sharp and cold as Rachel stepped out of the car. She hoped to find hundreds of volunteers there, like the crowds who had turned out to search for a missing Boy Scout two days earlier. But she saw fewer than 20.
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My expectations maybe were greater than what was realistic or even possible, given the terrain and the situation.
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Art Lang was there. Jeff Stagg, the outfitter who had dropped Eric off at Chipita Lake, was there. Eric's friend Julia was there, too. This ragtag group milled about, awaiting instructions. Most of them, that is. Art took the initiative and approached the commander of Duchenne County's official search and rescue, or saar, team.
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I said to him, my name's Art Lang. I just traveled the whole high line. In fact, I know the Uintas very well. Can I help you with the search? And he saw my backpack on, and he goes, yes, you really can. And I said, I just traveled it, and I know that there is some problem areas that you need to be focusing on.
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One of the problems facing the official Saar teams was their personnel didn't have much firsthand experience on the High Line Trail.
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So I said, I want to see the map. Let's talk about where we should. Where you should focus your efforts.
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It had been a day and a half since a scoutmaster had come forward with a story about encountering Eric way off the High Line along Yellowstone Creek. The sheriff's office had searchers out on horseback following up on that lead. Art thought they might be overlooking an area a bit farther to the west, an area he called the navigation crux, meaning the section of greatest difficulty for finding one's way. The crux wasn't one single spot, but instead a series of route finding challenges.
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And I said, the navigation crux is this place, this Oweip in the Lambert Meadows area.
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We've talked about this bit of the High Line before. The Oweep Basin and Lambert Meadow is where Ardid encountered a large herd of sheep during his hike.
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The Upper Oweep close to that navigation crux was missing a trail because it was just hundreds of sheep trails going every which way, and every blade of grass was down to the nubbins or gone.
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Art imagined a scenario where Eric lost the Highline Trail because of sheep damage or took the wrong path because of a broken trail sign. Maybe while wandering, Eric found a creek and tried to follow it downhill to civilization.
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If you're walking totally unguided, he'd be tending to follow the creek down. That's one of the navigation cruxes I was speaking about.
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That would have carried Eric down into the trees where he and his red backpack couldn't be seen from the air.
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The High Line is mostly above alpine tundra. I'm guessing 70% where you can see everywhere and you can see a pack on the ground easily. So all these overflights would have seen him if he was in the open. I had kind of figured that he wandered off into the woods and had a heart attack or set up camp in the woods and then tripped on a root and fell off a little cliff or something.
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The Duchenne county sheriff was working under a similar assumption.
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And the ground searchers were then focused on forest and places where he couldn't see. And you can miss somebody on the ground 100ft away, even if they had a red pack, if he's, you know, crouched down or on the ground or in a tent.
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The SAR team commander thanked Art for the information. It was just the kind of intel they needed.
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So he was very accepting and eager to get my input.
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And he put it to use immediately, crafting a plan to blitz this so called navigation crux with as many of the volunteer searchers as possible. An air ambulance company called Classic Lifeguard had donated a helicopter and flight crew for the day. The TSAR commander split the volunteers into teams of two. He said the helicopter would fly them in. The teams were to work their areas until about three or four in the afternoon, then returned to their drop points so the helicopter could fly them back out.
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And then at the end of that, I said, but I'm here to actually go search, so I want you to fly me up into this navigation crux and I'm gonna go looking for this guy.
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ARD had loaded his backpack with supplies and provisions to last a few days. He didn't want to be flown out after only a few hours, and he didn't want a buddy that would slow him down. He said he was going solo and
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he looked at me and said, I can't let you do that. And I said, you can't let me do it. That's really the wrong way to put it because I'm either going to walk up there for a day and a half and walk out for a day and a half with only one day to search, or you're going to fly me up there and I'll have four days to search. So which would you like?
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If the SAR team commander agreed to send Art out solo and Art ended up going missing himself, it would turn an already bad situation into an outright disaster. If Art was injured or killed, the inevitable lawsuit would be a multi million dollar fiasco. The buddy system rule was supposed to protect against this, but Art didn't care about the rules.
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The sheriff's deputy took pause and said, let me talk to some people. And he got on the radio and called the actual sheriff. And the sheriff said, let him go in, but he's got to be accompanied.
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Art placed his pack in the helicopter, then climbed into the front left seat. Two Duchesne deputies, the chaperones the sheriff had ordered to accompany him, took seats in the rear.
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And so I got to fly in this thing and there's two search and rescue deputies behind me. But at the end of the day, they'd get flown back out that same day and I'd stay there.
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The chopper lifted off from Moon Lake, its rotor wash kicking up a whirlwind of dust. Art watched the the landscape below shrink as the chopper climbed, then moved north
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in the morning light like an elevator going up to Lake Fork drainage.
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If you're looking down from above the lake Fork drainage forms a giant letter Y. Moon Lake sits at the bottom going north. From there you follow the river until it splits about halfway up. The left or west branch is the lake fork. The right or left east branch is Oweep Creek. At the very top of the Wye. Midway between those two branches sits Lambert Meadow. The Uintah Highline Trail cuts across the top of the Wye from one side to the other. That entire stretch encompassed the section of trail Art called the navigation crux. Again, the plan for the search was to saturate this crux with as many people as possible. Art and his chaperones were the tip of the spear. The helicopter dropped them in an open space near Lambert Meadow.
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I got out with my full pack and started setting my tent up. The aircraft took off and they were quizzing me, well, are you going to stay here by yourself? You know there's bears and other dangerous animals here.
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Art knew risky wildlife encounters in the Uinta Mountains were rare. The grizzly bears and wolf packs that once inhabited these mountains were killed off by ranchers decades ago. Black bears do still live in the Uintas today, but they tend to be small and shy.
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And I said, I'm used to being by myself out here and I feel bad that you're feeling bad for me. Don't you know I'm here by free will and frankly, I don't need you here to walk around with me. You're supposed to stay there the whole day and start searching. Interesting, because they were not really well equipped to walk much. They had cowboy boots on and jeans and water bottles stuffed in their pockets.
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The deputies were from the ranching communities of Duchenne County. They were both used to being outside, but weren't long distance hikers.
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Maybe somebody can walk 10 miles in a cowboy boots, but I challenge. I'd like to see it.
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Art didn't get a chance to find
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out because by the time I got my tent set up getting ready to start walking, the helicopter shows back up to haul them out.
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Back at Moon Lake, Marilyn and Rachel watched as the helicopter came and went. The group of volunteers shrank a little each time the chopper lifted off. Rachel realized she and Marilyn would soon be left alone there.
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Me just standing there waiting is not a good use of time.
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Rachel still wanted to join the search, and it seemed the opportunity was slipping away. So she approached the sartine commander. Yes, I know it's dangerous, she said, but look around, you don't have nearly enough people. You need my help. The commander conceded the situation warranted bending the rules. He agreed to send her out with one of the last remaining volunteers. The helicopter would drop Rachel and this other volunteer, a guy named Charlie, in an area called Brown Duck Basin. There was little reason to believe Eric could have ended up there, but it needed to be checked. Rachel said she was ready.
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I could not have been less prepared.
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Rachel and Charlie would start their search at the top of the basin and jog down a trail back to Moon Lake. The distance would be about equal to running a half marathon.
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Fortunately, I'd run a half marathon about three weeks before, the only time in my life I've ever done it. But I was probably the fittest that I've ever been. Thankfully, the guy I was paired up with was so fit, it was just, I went, what have I done?
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That feeling intensified as the helicopter ascended, affording Rachel a bird's eye view of Brown Duck Basin and the broad expanse of the uinta crest beyond. She felt a pang of dread.
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The size of it, the scale of it, of the range themselves, and what the task was.
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As soon as they hit the ground and darted out of the chopper, Charlie started off down the trail. Rachel hurried to follow, worried she wouldn't be able to keep pace.
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Adrenaline's an amazing thing. It didn't. It didn't actually matter.
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Rocks the size of watermelons littered the trail. Dead pines blown down by the wind were hurdles in Rachel's path. Every step posed the risk of a sprain or rolled ankle. Her lungs, accustomed to sea level air, burned in the thinner oxygen at elevation. She shouted Eric's name over and over.
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I do remember, though, as we were running, that real reality of what I was gonna do if I actually found him like this, sort of wanting to. Desperately, desperately, like I was dizzy from my head. Scanning, scanning, looking, looking. But then, you know, it was a weird thing. It was so futile, you know, in reality. Would this be the moment that we were fortunate enough that it was. But also, what was that actually going to be like?
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She couldn't imagine a scenario where Eric greeted her with a smile and a cup of tea, asking, what had taken her so long.
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I was prepping for worst case. Yeah, maybe that he would be unconscious and alive, but not. Obviously, it would be pretty bad.
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She still didn't to want. Want to believe Eric could be dead, but finding his lifeless body would be better than not finding him at all.
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I obviously wanted it to happen, but had to prep myself in case that was the reality and what that was going to be like. Strange combination of feelings. To have.
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Yeah.
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It was nearly 10am by the time the chopper finished flying all the volunteers to their search areas. Eric's friend Julia remained behind to be with Marilyn. They traveled together back to the sheriff's office headquarters to attend a briefing with Sheriff Travis Mitchell. Marilyn stood again in the eoc, that big empty room, as the sheriff walked her through everything that had happened so far.
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I had my notebook.
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Mitchell went day by day as Marilyn scribbled notes, trying to keep up, writing down names of unfamiliar people and places.
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My notes are somewhat sketchy.
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I've reviewed them and they're actually quite good. Sheriff Mitchell told Marilyn how he had flown the entire length of the Highline Trail a week earlier to look at each of the passes. Marilyn wrote the words dead horse pass, nasty snow. Mitchell told Maryland the air ambulance company had already donated tens of thousands of dollars in fuel, fuel and flight time to the search, but couldn't keep flying for free and was going to start charging the sheriff's office.
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Helicopter has limited fuel. Pilots have other chores.
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Surely there had to be other helicopters, Marilyn said. Why not call in the military or the state governor? The sheriff told her it would cost $5,000 an hour to bring in another chopper.
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He told me, it's different. You don't understand, you know. And I emphatically said, well, please explain. I need to know. You need to fill me in on the differences. You need to explain to me how you do things and what is going on.
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Marilyn was not the weepy, inconsolable wife Sheriff Mitchell might have expected. She told him she knew a bit about mountains herself, having trekked around Annapurna in Nepal. He didn't need to protect her feelings. Just be blunt, she said.
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I was standing around twiddling my thumbs, trying to get my head around a lot of new things of, you know, sketchy, patchy information. And I needed to know.
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A KSL TV reporter arrived early that afternoon to update the station's story about Eric. Now, eight days after his expected return, Duchene County Sheriff Travis Mitchell says his deputies are searching a 60 mile long trail with very little to go on. We're looking at on our side of the Uinta Mountains, somewhere in the neighborhood of about 400,000 acres. Notice how Mitchell said our side Duchene county only covered the south slope of the Hyuentas. I'll remind you Summit county was responsible for the north side, but had declined to join the search. The Duchesne county portion alone spanned more than 1600 square kilometers, an impossibly large area to cover. Sheriff Mitchell told the reporter they needed the public's help to shrink the scope.
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Get somebody that's seen him other than where we have now, then we can maybe narrow our search area a little bit smaller.
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That would help us immensely. In the meantime, Marilyn does what little she can, keeping family members up to date as she can, closely watches the search.
D
We have five children and nine grandchildren and it's pretty hard for those back in Australia.
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I covered many search and rescue missions during my career as a news reporter. There's often a telling moment when a search drags out where the officials switch from saying rescue to recovery. That's when they admit to themselves and to the public the person they are looking for must be dead. Sheriff Mitchell wasn't calling it a recovery just yet, but Marilyn could sense the shift coming.
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I got the sense that hope of a positive finding had fast dwindled.
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The chief deputy, Dave Boren, went over detailed weather reports beginning with the day Eric had last been seen by the Boy Scouts. Scattered storms had moved across the Uintas that day and for two days after it raised the possibility Errik might have been struck by lightning. Fatalities from lightning are very rare, but your risk for getting injured or killed by lightning increases when you are the tallest thing in an otherwise barren landscape. This point came into sharp focus on that afternoon when Julia's partner Blake, her friend Devon and Julia's sister reported in following a search. They'd been out for three days since Saturday.
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Blake and Devin and my sister have a story of trying to go over a pass and it was lightning and they had to make the choice of like, run for it back to camp or, or stay put and so that there's just a lot of risk with volunteers being out there that you assume.
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Electrical storms in the Uintas can be as memorable as. As they are terrifying. There's nothing like seeing the white flash and hearing the air rending crack at the same instant. The U.S. national Weather Service describes barren mountain peaks, ridgelines and wide open areas as extremely dangerous terrain for lightning. That all perfectly describes portions of the Uintah Highline Trail. And I had my own close call with lightning during my hike following Eric's path.
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Hopefully the wind doesn't make this recording completely inaudible.
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I was headed for Porcupine Pass when I found myself trying to outrun a storm.
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There are some really ugly clouds off to my right, which would be north, and I just heard some thunder crackling inside the clouds. I'm way above trees line. I am in wide open tundra, just rocks Grass and little bushes about shin high, spaced very sparsely. So if the weather comes in in any significant way, I'm gonna get the brunt of it.
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The weather service suggests getting inside a car or building when you see lightning, but I was in the wilderness with no car or building anywhere in sight. Mountain hikers usually try to get over passes early in the day when weather tends to be calm. But sometimes storms don't stick to predictable schedules. I was caught in the open, the tallest thing around, a literal lightning rod.
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So if you hear me breathing heavy, that's why I've got to push.
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Cold wind made my sweat feel like ice. I paused to catch my breath before sending the final few switchbacks to the top of the pass, only to have the sky remind me not to dally.
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That's not scary. That's not scary at all. Walking away from the thunder, Everything to my back is dark, super ugly, really ugly clouds coming over from the north. Like I am just missing this storm right in front of it.
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I crested the top of the pass and looked down into the Oe basin, a big beautiful meadow.
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Oh my word. And the view into the oh weep. There it is. Freaking oh weep. Oh my word. That's gorgeous. That is unbelievably pretty.
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From my perch at the edge of the precipice, I could see a long wall of cliffs to my left, boxing in the south side of the Owee Cirque. The spine of the Uinta crest formed another barrier to my right. Between them sat the Oweep, a long narrow valley. The highline trail, a thin stripe of brown, cut through the grass far below. The vertical relief made me feel like I was in a Jack and the Beanstalk fable. And the rumble of thunder from behind told me a giant was about to catch me.
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It's not a sound I like when
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I'm standing on a 12,000 foot pass. You'd better run. You'd better take cover. Oh my word. I couldn't help snapping a few pictures first. We gotta take an iPhone photo of
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that too,
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because I got the ultra
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wide camera on the iPhone and that
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deserves freaking ultra wide.
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Okay, that's too close. Okay, we got a boogie off of this freaking pass. That one was too close for comfort.
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I shoved my phone in my pocket and scurried to where the trail dropped off the west side of the pass, dragging my trekking poles behind. A blast of what felt like hurricane force wind slammed into me right where the Highline trail plunged off the edge.
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Holy cow. Okay, I gotta turn this recorder off and get off this hill.
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Hailstones pelted the ground as I jogged down the rocky path, lightning peppering the place. I'd just been standing. You don't get to hear that thunder because I put my own safety above standing around to record the sound recorder off. Lightning can and has killed people up here. Marilyn returned to Moon Lake on that Monday afternoon to await Rachel's return. She knew her daughter had taken a risk going out to search like all the volunteers. And every hour that passed without word from Rachel tightened a knot of anxiety in her gut. Marilyn told herself Rachel would be fine.
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She's an outdoors person. She's cautious, but will give things a go. And she was with other people who knew the place. She wasn't out there alone.
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Rachel and her search buddy Charlie came off the trail around 6pm they were dusty, sweaty and exhausted. Rachel felt a twinge of remorse at having left her mom alone.
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Mom just had to stand there and wait all day.
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Marilyn told Rachel about her briefing with the sheriff, how she had begged him to do more, and how the sheriff had said, you don't understand. Rachel spat out a few choice words.
E
I was probably, you know, swearing and being frustrated and perhaps a little bit more quick to judge in my frustration, where she was probably a bit older and wiser and a bit more measured, I think.
A
They waited at Moonlake until the last of the volunteers reported in. None had any news to share, so Marilyn and Rachel then started their long drive back to Park City. Once back in cell service, Rachel called her husband, Jeremy. She couldn't find words to describe her experience Running down the trail, wondering if she might see Eric's lifeless body, Jeremy went to Google Maps and zoomed in on Brown Duck Basin. It was just a tiny corner of the Uinta Range. That's when it hit Jeremy.
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You know, Eric goes, I'm going to go onto this trail, right?
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Here you go.
C
Yeah.
H
Okay, off you go. When you looked at it, you know, on Google Maps or whatever, and you went, holy, this place is huge. And, you know, then you get on Google Earth and you see how steep, you know, the slopes are from the top of the trail down. And when I got better context of what it was, you know, it's a very different experience because we weren't thinking about running down a hill and potentially tripping over his body either.
A
Night fell. Marilyn felt a bit disoriented driving in the dark. She had to concentrate to keep the car from drifting across the centerline to where habit told her it should be. Australians drive on the left, Americans on the Right. Rachel knew they were headed back to Julia's place, but didn't know the way.
E
We were very reliant on Julia who lived in Park City.
A
They had Julia's address, but at some point realized that wasn't where they were actually staying. Remember, Julia was house sitting for a friend. The friend's house is where Marilyn and Rachel were supposed to to go. But they didn't have that address. Rachel felt her patience starting to slip.
E
You know, I'd been really focused on a task until that point.
A
The task of finding Eric, which was beginning to feel hopeless. On top of that, she was now lost on some dark highway in a foreign country, physically exhausted and emotional, spent in a moment of confusion, Marilyn took the wrong exit off the highway. She realized her mistake and came to a stop, then put the car in reverse and started backing up the exit ramp. Rachel's exhaustion and frustration boiled over. She exploded, swearing at her mom. What are you doing? Stop. Are you trying to get us both killed?
E
It was awful. It was awful. Yeah.
A
They ended up calling Julia, rousing her from sleep to get directions to the house. They finally made it to Park City and collapsed into bed. Marilyn, Rachel, and Julia all needed rest.
B
I think we were not only physically tired, but emotionally spent.
A
They remained at the house in Park City on Tuesday, August 16, day nine of the search for Eric to recuperate and chart a path forward. Marilyn and Rachel talked about what had happened on the drive home the night before, hoping to heal any hurt feelings. Julia could see the resilience of their bond.
B
For as emotionally trying as it all was like, Marilyn and Rachel were just wonderful to be around the entire time. Like, I would have lost it.
A
The trio set themselves to work that morning, trying to solve some immediate problems. The sheriff had told Julia, we only
B
have so many more days of a helicopter, so we put out the word. Like, does anybody have a helicopter we can use?
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One of the people in Julia's social network was a former ski patroller turned tech CEO who had access to a helicopter. He offered to donate it to the search, but there was a problem. Federal law prohibited takeoff and landing of aircraft within wilderness areas. The U.S. forest Service had granted special permission to the Duchesne sheriff and the air ambulance company to break that rule during the search. That permission didn't extend to private citizens. Rachel couldn't believe it.
E
There's this hope, there's this avenue of possibility, and then it's not there anymore.
A
Marilyn spent a good part of the day on the phone, updating the Australian consulate and checking for any Activity on Eric's credit cards. They hadn't been used. There wasn't much else they could do. It seemed helpless to Rachel.
E
Logically, we're not getting anywhere. So before we leave, I want to make sure we have given it every possibility.
A
In desperation, Rachel suggested they consult a psychic.
E
I don't go to a clairvoyant in my day to day life. I don't believe in those things.
A
Frankly, neither do I. In my years as a journalist, I've done several deep dives on cold cases. Police reports from those kinds of cases always seem to include some element of psychic charlatanism. Never once have I seen a so called psychic bring anything meaningful to an investigation. These people often suck money out of victim families. They're peddlers of false hope, predators on the despondent.
E
I get that. But it doesn't stop you as a human trying to actually try every possibility.
A
Chief Deputy Dave Boren called that afternoon. He convinced Rachel. Paying a psychic just to hear I'm seeing green, Eric's in a place with many trees wouldn't help.
E
The police talked us out of that and said really it ends up being a waste of resource.
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And at this stage everything hinged on resources.
E
You're in a strange country and they've told you this is the best we can do and you just have to take them at their word.
A
Boren said he had managed to get one more day with the helicopter. But if they didn't turn up any new clues, the search would have to end. The last grains of sand were slipping through the neck of the hourglass. Marilyn said she would likely return to Australia at the end of the week. Boren requested she make a complete inventory of everything Eric had taken on his trek before she left.
D
It seemed like he was covering. Should we find somebody in the very near future that they'd be able to match the right person without having me to go back and identify.
A
In her notebook, Marilyn wrote the words running into roadblocks. People discouraged, no resolution, not good. The effort to find Eric was at its make or break point when Marilyn, Rachel, Julia and Blake all returned to Moonlake on the morning of Wednesday, August 17th, day 10 of the search. Julia and especially Blake had already clocked many long hours in the field.
B
Blake did it a lot more than I did. I think he put in a couple hundred miles for this search. I don't know exactly how many, but it seemed like that, you know, just being out there, from the first boots on the ground to the last boots
A
on the ground, the Duchesne Sheriff's office remained focused on the so called navigation crux. Julia decided she and Blake, along with Eric's friend Jonathan from the John Muir Trail, would use their final helicopter trip into the wilderness to join that effort.
B
I mean, it was our last attempt of searching up there.
A
The helicopter would drop them near Lambert Meadow, the same place Art was at that time searching. They wouldn't cross paths with Art though, because it's such a big area. They'd work their way south, checking a cluster of ponds far off the Highline Trail. Julia knew it was a long shot, but felt they had to try.
B
We were definitely out of our element of knowing what to do.
A
Rachel asked if she could join them. Her muscles were still sore from that half marathon hike a couple days earlier, but she couldn't stand the idea of staying behind.
E
I felt way more useful being another pair of eyes crossing off another area.
A
Julia agreed. So the search party of four flew up to Lambert Meadow early that morning. I've gone through photos and videos Rachel and Julia captured that day as they walked through the trees doing what Australians call bush bashing. That's slang for hiking off trees trail. Rachel found herself back in that odd state of mind, wondering what it would be like to find Eric. She felt immense pressure, knowing this was her last chance.
E
Could this be the moment that I look in the wrong direction? Like it? Yeah. When in reality there was a lot of unlocked space. Anyway,
A
As Rachel, Julia, Blake and Jonathan were bush bashing, Art was doing the same. When last we heard from Art, his chaperones were departing Lambert Meadow and they
C
flew back out, wishing me good luck in my high adventure solo experience.
A
That was early Monday. Art had been alone ever since, hiking back and forth to various points along his navigation crux. He assumed Eric had become lost. Eric was carrying a GPS device, but those could break, run out of batteries, or simply fail to get a signal.
C
Me, I would sit down, I'd get my map out and I'd try and figure out which the peaks were and start triangulating orienteering.
A
The skill of using map and compass is a bit of a lost start in the smartphone age.
C
Maybe he wasn't that skilled at that. Or maybe that's what he was going to do if it got worse.
A
Eric did know how to use a map and compass, but he wasn't familiar with the Uinta landmarks. He could have become confused. Art imagined where Eric might have gone.
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I knew where the cruxes were. I walked up the Oweip drainage.
A
I'm going to jump back and forth from Art's search to my hike following Eric's path so I can give you a firsthand account of what it's like traveling through Art's cruxes. I entered this crux after rushing off Porcupine Pass. The Uinta Highline soon disappeared into a spiderweb of sheep trails and the weather kept getting worse.
G
There's not one hint of blue sky anywhere.
A
The entire sky is gray. Steady rain fell as I trudged along.
G
Looking down Lake Fork. There are clouds rods hanging down into the fingers of the side canyons.
A
These swirls of mist blotted out the distant peaks. Thankfully, I have a pretty good mental map of the Uintas and wasn't worried about losing my bearings. I kept track of my position in my head by dead reckoning. That's a way of estimating your position using only direction and distance traveled. I regained the trail before long and followed it to an intersection.
G
This is a trail split here.
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I've described this spot before. It's marked by a signpost made of a log with carved wooden boards bolted to it. Or I should say the boards are supposed to be bolted to the log. I found them sitting on the ground. Can you read that? Because I can't. Those boards were also on the ground at the time of Eric's trek in 2011. Nobody had fixed this broken sign in over 12 years. Art told me this is common in the Uintas, mainly because the Forest Service
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hasn't had the funding or had the opportunity to do any maintenance. So the trail's in cryptic condition, so it's mostly non existent. Most of the signage is broken, fallen on the ground or just actually missing.
A
The trails Eric was used to hiking in Australia and New Zealand were marked with durable metal posts or blazes. A blaze is a visual marker like a paint splotch or plastic reflector on a tree or rock. The Uintah Highline is not marked with posts or blazes. If the trail faded out beneath Eric's feet, would he know how to find his way?
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In my opinion, that was one of the biggest navigation difficulties of crossing the Highline trail was the lack of significant trail to follow.
A
Art came to this same busted sign during his search for Eric.
C
I wasn't going to see any there because it's all open alpine tundra with great views, so a tent or a pack or a body would be seen from a helicopter. But I walked up to Squaw Pass which goes over the divide down to the north.
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The name of the pass Art just mentioned was accurate when this interview was recorded, but since then the US Board on Geographic Names has changed it, along with more than 600 other place names across the country that previously used the SQ word. That's because the word carries racist and sexist connotations. You won't hear it again in our story. Instead, I'll use the name that applies now. Nagach Pass. Nagach is a Ute word that means mountain sheep or bighorn. But Rocky Mountain bighorn don't live in this part of the Uintas anymore because domestic sheep wiped them out more than a century ago. The problem is that virtually all domestic sheep carry pasturella. If wild bighorns pick it up, it can give them a fatal dose of pneumonia. Nose to nose contact typically is what it takes physical contact between domestic domestic
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sheep and wild sheep.
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A pasturella outbreak can kill off 90% of a bighorn herd in a matter of days. The U.S. forest Service manages grazing in the Uintas, but a different agency is responsible for managing wildlife. It's called the Utah Division of Wildlife Resources, and it tried to reintroduce bighorn to one small corner of the Uintas back in the 1980s. The state was only able to do that because the Forest Service banned domestic sheep from that same small area, but Nagach Pass is not part of it. In fact, Nagach Pass is one of the main routes herders use to move domestic sheep between the north and south sides of the Uinta range. During art search in 2011, he peered out from the top of Nagach Pass, hoping to see Eric's tent or red backpack somewhere in the trees below.
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I saw no sign. Saw plenty of animal prints, ungulate prints going over the pass, but no footprint sign.
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Art doubled back to the broken trail sign, thinking to himself, where else could Eric be? On my hike, I left that trail sign, headed west along the Uinta highline. I managed to follow the trail pretty well until it reached a crossing of Oweep Creek. Right at the crossing, I found a sheet of paper tucked in a plastic sleeve pinned to the ground with a rock. It was a warning not to drink from the creek or stick my feet in the water, it said. A day earlier, Utah's state wildlife agency had flushed the creek with a toxin called rotenone to kill off non native fish. I wasn't planning on taking a bath in Oeep Creek, since I was already getting a cold shower. But I couldn't just hop over the creek. At the trail crossing, sheep had eroded the banks, widening the waterway. I left the trail and scouted around a bit Bushwhacking through waist high brush until I found a more narrow portion I could jump. But then I couldn't find the trail again on the far side. I walked back and forth looking for it, became frustrated and decided to just keep moving west without a trail.
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Pretty typical for this part. This stretch between oweip and Lambert Meadow. The Uinta highline. Hey, I think I found it.
A
Yeah, that's probably it.
G
That may be game trail. I don't know. I'm gonna walk it and see where it goes. But that's, that's why Art Lang called this the navigation crux, because you went to Highline. From oweep to Lambert Meadow, that trail just walked me into, into nothing. It's a mess. It's. I mean it's practically non existent.
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I had known Art's navigation crux was coming, but still managed to lose the trail there. Walking off trail in the Uintas is a skill I practiced though.
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So I know generally the direction I need to go. And so I just picked the best game trail and run with that and head in the direction that I think I need to be going. Thinking that at some point I'll regain the actual trail trail, but who knows when that'll be.
A
Dead reckoning didn't let me down. I soon spotted a cairn, a stack of rocks in the distance, headed toward it and regained the trail.
G
Here I am back on the high Line
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navigation crux.
G
You gotta be good at figuring out where you are, where you're supposed to be. When you get off, get back where you want. That's hiking in the Uintas.
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Art thought Eric could have lost the trail just as easily as I did. Except maybe Eric didn't find a lucky cairn. Art didn't find any sign of Eric during three straight days of searching. By Wednesday afternoon he decided to head for home.
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Had a pretty much fruitless hunt. Started trudging out and there was no helicopter to carry me out. But luckily it was downhill.
A
From Art's camp to the search command post at Moon Lake was a walk of more than 15 miles or nearly 25 kilometers. He made quick progress but started to wear out. About halfway there.
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I got a pack on and I'm trudging along exhausted. I stopped, took my pack off, sat down next to a stream and pumped some water or treated some water. And I hear runners coming behind me and coming down the trailer are three runners and I know one of them a buddy. That was a neighborhood. He and his two running friends had been airlifted into the Upper Oweep and Ran the drainage down. They ran the creek down. They'd been lifted in that morning, and they were coming out. They were one of the last trips. Sent in to look for Eric, these
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runners encountered art just below the center point of the wye I described earlier, where Oweep creek and the lake fork river converge.
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And so they came running down, and they found me, and I was, like, leaking oil, tapped out. They picked up my spirits and escorted me out back to the trailhead.
A
Marilyn was at that time waiting at
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Moon Lake, and I spent, you know, a good part of the day sitting, walking along the road, steering clear of helicopters as they made their dust up and down and talking with the sheriff for any sort of updates. They did take me somewhere where they had luncheon at a diner somewhere, you know, and I met the sheriff's wife there. It was a bit like a social outing to, you know, calm the nerves and, you know, be a little bit of normal.
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But nothing about this felt normal. Over lunch, the sheriff told Marilyn he couldn't keep pouring resources into a search that was, statistically speaking, not going to bring Eric back alive.
D
They had decided that the search was being scaled back because it was coming up to two weeks.
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Even worse, the chief deputy told Marilyn, Eric's body might never be found.
D
Dave Boren was the holder of that discussion. People have been up here.
A
Sometimes we find them, but sometimes they don't, he said.
D
It's such a wild, remote, remote place. There are not a lot of people who come up here. It's likely that there will be nothing.
A
The sheriff brought Marilyn back to Moon Lake. Art had, by that point, arrived there on weary legs. He was loading his pack into his car when he spotted Marilyn. He recognized her, having seen her a few days earlier, but he hadn't talked to her then, so he walked over and introduced himself. They chatted briefly about Eric and his many adventures.
C
And I think that she thought it normal but eccentric for him to go off all over the world backpacking by himself. I think it'd be kind of like someone talking to my wife. We had a nice conversation, and a deputy that was running the search and rescue came over. And while we're standing there talking, he said to Marilyn, we're pretty much out of time and money to keep flying this helicopter, but the sheriff would like to offer up to you one flight for you and your daughter,
A
Rachel. Julia, Blake and Jonathan had reached the end of their search. They were waiting in a meadow to be picked up by the helicopter. This flight would bring Marilyn up to
D
join them, and they offered me the opportunity to go up in the helicopter to, you know, one of the meadows, which I jumped at.
A
Art stepped aside as Marilyn walked to the helicopter, climbed inside and strapped in.
C
I was glad to have done my part and felt somewhat satisfied or rewarded in that respect. And I really enjoyed the fact that the community had risen up. Not only the sheriff who spent multiple million dollars on this rescue, on this search, not a rescue. This happens a lot in Utah and the Uintas specifically, in which the community rallies and tremendous amount of hours and resources are spent, not all of it well guided or well planned. But if anybody ever asks people to stand up and look for one of their own lost and they went to, people rise to the occasion. And I felt good to demonstrate that to Mary.
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The helicopter rotor began to spin. It picked up speed, the sound of it slicing through the air, growing louder with every pass. Marilyn watched the blades from her seat inside the helicopter until they became a blur. The chopper's skids lifted off the ground. It hovered for a moment, then the nose tilted down and it started moving forward. Marilyn watched out the window as Moon Lake slipped by below.
D
It was a very calm day. It was beautiful sky, beautiful blue skies. It was a little chilly once we got up there, but it was a beautiful day.
A
The pilot flew to Porcupine Pass, then turned west and followed the route of the Uintah Highline. Marilyn saw the navigation crux with her own eyes. Medics from the air ambulance company pointed out places where they had dropped different groups of searchers.
D
They were wonderful young men. They were very empathic, you know, in their conversation and their support.
A
She clutched her hands together, but not because of any fear of flying. This wasn't even Marilyn's first trip in a helicopter. She had taken a sightseeing flight with Eric at the Grand Canyon after he had finished hiking the Junk Muir Trail five years earlier. Marilyn thought he would have loved seeing the grandeur of the Uinta crest from above.
D
The ridgeline is imposing. The escarpments, the drops, the meadows. It's a magical place. I've got goosebumps just coming up my legs now as I'm talking to you about that.
A
The sight of high alpine fields reminded her of walking in Tuolumne Meadows at Yosemite with her. She pressed her camera lens to the windshield and snapped photos as the helicopter rounded the massive south ridge of Mount Lavinia. There, the aircraft slowed and descended, preparing to land just to the side of the Highline Trail. From the ground, Rachel watched the helicopter land, then experienced a Pleasant surprise as she saw her mom step out. Rachel had been on the mountain all day and wasn't aware the sheriff had arranged to fly Marilyn up to join
E
her, which was such an amazing thing that they thought of.
A
That act of kindness erased many of the hard feelings Rachel had harbored toward the sheriff. Her two difficult days in the field also helped her understand why the search commander at first refused to let her go.
E
It gave me a greater appreciation as to why. Why we'd probably had those earlier difficulties.
A
Rachel realized there was no malice behind their misunderstandings.
E
It was lost in translation. I think it was perhaps more about their method or style of communicating with us and perhaps how we went about asking for information or how they read us on first impressions that I think really that was about. Because I remember getting a sense as the days unwound, the next few, that actually there's a lot going on. Why didn't they just communicate and tell us that that's what they were doing?
A
The meadow was an open space ringed by pines. Wildflowers carpeted the ground. The Lake Fork river, just a stream here, so close to its headwaters, ran along one side, giving off a placid gurgle. In all of Rachel's travels around Australia, she had never encountered a place quite like it.
E
We don't really have meadows like that here, so it was really striking to me.
A
Rachel embraced her mom as they both stood on the hill Highline Trail, at a place Eric might have also stood only days earlier.
D
We talked about what Eric might have been thinking and seeing and appreciating.
A
Marilyn had come to Utah with an empty suitcase. She'd felt Eric was dead and thought she would need space to carry his possessions home. Now she accepted she must return to Australia without even an explanation of what happened to. To him. Rachel, too, tried to make peace with the idea of never knowing.
E
I felt fortunate to have a sense of where he was, you know, after this, if we weren't going to find him and take him home, to actually physically have been where he was actually felt like a real privilege.
D
It was. It was Eric's place, and I understood why he wanted to walk through there. You know, magnificent, you know, if his
E
number was up, if his time had come, this is where he would want it to be. And it was beautiful.
A
They both understood this was the end.
E
If this was to be the conclusion. He couldn't have chosen a better place in terms of the nature that he adored.
A
The conclusion not only of the search, but of their life with Eric. They reminisced about all the wonderful times they had shared with him. Rachel remembered his strong sense of right and wrong, his temper and his tree hugging. How he had taken the family to rallies protesting logging or in support of the climate.
E
He loved the environment.
A
So it seemed somehow fitting that this small, impromptu gathering in an alpine meadow would be Eric's funeral.
D
Rachel, I think, said to me, what are we going to do? I go, well, you know, it's a very Scottish thing to do to build a rock cat. So we all scarpet around, gathered suitable rocks and made them into a rock can to leave there for Eric. And we took that moment to use that as a final goodbye. Cause I wasn't going to be able to get back there again. The helicopters were being pulled out. I didn't know if I would ever come back to Utah.
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They assembled the cairn just to the side of the Highline Trail, stacking pink quartzite stones about knee high. They plucked wildflowers from the meadow and placed them in the nooks between the rocks. There was American bespoke distort, with its clusters of tiny pink and white blossoms. Shrubby cinquefoil showing off vibrant yellow blooms. And wandering fleabane made up of delicate lavender petals arranged around an orange disc. A bouquet equal in beauty to the flowers Eric had always send Marilyn. When headed off on some grand trek. Rachel had carried printed photos of Eric while searching to hand to any hikers she might meet along the way. Now she propped one of those pictures against the cairn. Marilyn used a small stone to etch Eric's initials into one of the larger rocks. And so the cairn transformed into a cenotaph, a physical marker of Eric's death at some unknown place. Marilyn took out her phone and started recording a video to share with loved ones back home.
I
Here we are, Julia, Rachel and I, standing at the little cairn that we've built at a place where Eric possibly walked through if it wasn't this spot. There are many other meadows like this throughout the Highline Trail.
D
We all shared our thoughts and. And, you know, we did it as a farewell speech, which was, you know, a very emotional time for all three
E
of us, acknowledging out loud and to ourselves, well, to ourselves and to him, that we've done our very best. We have done our best to try and find you, but we can't do anymore. And even though you'll be here, you'll be with us in so many other ways.
I
We've had no success in the search over the last two weeks, and today the Medevac helicopter has been absolutely invaluable along with the sheriff and the deputy sheriff and the head of the search and rescue. And they've brought us up here and left us with some time to be able to say goodbye to Eric and acknowledge the wonderful person that he has been to all of us. For all those who have been left behind in Australia, for Glen, his son, for all our children and the grandchildren who hope for his safe return. We love, we loved you, Eric. We loved the person that you were, the values that you so staunchly held to and the way that you've touched each of our lives.
A
Rachel sat on the ground and sobbed. She cried for Eric, but also for her mom.
E
You know, my mum's had a lot of things dealt to her that, that are not fair, that are awful, you know, unreasonable. And you go, really like, why would the universe throw something like this at her? Not only that there's a tragic ending, but to not have the answers, like to have, to now have done this with no outcome and to just have
D
to
E
leave, it just felt very cruel in that way for her.
I
He's here in the mountains that he loves, somewhere that we just can't find. Up here is one of the passes that he would have had on his route. Red Knot, Red Knot Pass.
A
Lambert Meadows is Beyond.
I
And it's 5:30 in the afternoon of Wednesday the 17th of August. Farewell, Eric, and thank you for the years we had together.
A
Later that night, after they had flown off the mountain and driven away from Moon Lake for the last time, Rachel sent a final email update to family and friends, letting them know the search was over.
E
Mom and the sheriff had concluded together that everything possible has been done. Their feeling is that Eric has come up against something he was not able to overcome. Our conclusion, and that of the sheriffs is that the mountains have decided to keep him. Maybe not forever, but certainly for the time being. Together we built a cairn on the edge of the meadow overlooking a stream. Inside, we enclosed a photo. We scratched his name onto the rock and we picked some wild flowers and decorated the cairn. We spoke our words of love and thanks for Eric, our words of sorrow that we could not find him, and our words of appreciation that Eric will remain in a wild, beautiful and mountainous place.
A
Hope is a flower that can sprout even from infertile soil.
B
Maybe he's still out there and he's still alive, you know, because you don't know.
A
Julia and Blake didn't stop looking for Eric after the official search ended in August.
B
Kind of like, well, maybe he'll show up, you know, he's a pretty resourceful guy.
A
Hunters replaced hikers in the high Uintas during September and October, but none of them stumbled across Eric, either. Russ Alston, the Boy Scout leader who was one of the last people to see Eric, also held on to hope.
F
He never came out. He's somewhere up there. Someone will find him.
A
Russ worked as a commercial airline pilot based in Salt Lake City. Air traffic going in and out of Salt Lake often passes along the flanks of the Uinta Mountains, heading east, you
F
know, towards Denver or other points. You're on the north edge, looking out the right side of the airplane at the high country of Utah.
A
He sometimes gazed out from the cockpit at that sprawling expanse and wondered what could have happened to Eric after they parted ways along the Yellowstone River.
F
I can trace the trail through the drainage. From the trailhead I can see all the other ravines. I'm thinking about him, you know, where is he? He can be anywhere up there.
A
But surely, Russ thought, someone will find Eric. Weeks became months with no discovery, no answers. Then winter came to the Uinta Mountains,
F
and in the winter, when you fly past that, it is just snow blanketed. It looks like a solid blanket of white.
A
That blanket smothered the last flickers of hope. Eric, the Scotsman who hated snow, was presumably buried under it among the forest, cliffs and canyons. But he wouldn't remain hidden forever. Uinta Triangle includes immersive field recordings made in real outdoor locations. For the best listening experience, please consider using a good pair of stereo headphones. And if you'd like to build a better picture of the places we visit, you can find maps, photos and video@uintatriangle.com that's uinta spelled u I n t a triangle.com find us on social media using uintatriangle. Bringing you this story has been an effort years in the making to support this kind of work. Please follow the show and share it with your friends. You can also help us by subscribing to Lemonada Premium right in your podcast player. It gets you access to exclusive bonus episodes. Here's producer Andrea Smarden with a peek at the latest bonus do you ever
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wonder what will happen to the places you've lived or the gardens you've cultivated after your death? In Bonus episode six, Dave visits the grounds of Volkstone Primary School with Marilyn, where Eric's garden and frog pond still live. She reflects on his dedication to the garden and what it meant to be part of that community. When she returned home without Eric Uinta
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Triangle is researched and written by me, Dave Colley. I also did the field recording. Andrea Smarten is lead producer and sound designer with contributing producers Ben Kiebrick and Jenny Ament. Our main source score and original music are by Alison Layton Brown. Additional voices in this episode from Jenny Amint. Uinta Triangle is a production of KSL Podcasts and Lemonada Media. My personal thanks to the following past and present members of the KSL Podcasts team Aaron Mason, Amy Donaldson, Felix Bunnell, Josh Tilton, Kellyanne Halvorson, Nina Ernest Ernest, Ryan Meeks, and Trent Sell. Finally, from me to you. Please remember, wherever your life's trail takes you, none of us ever truly walk alone.
Host: Dave Cawley
Date: June 17, 2025
In this powerful sixth episode of Uinta Triangle, host Dave Cawley and the Cold podcast team document the final days of the search for missing Australian trekker, Eric Robinson, and the emotional reckoning faced by his loved ones as hope dims. The episode intricately weaves together personal perspectives—those of Eric’s wife Marilyn, stepdaughter Rachel, search volunteers, and authorities—emphasizing the psychological and physical toll exacted by prolonged, uncertain loss. Through moving storytelling and immersive on-the-ground recordings, listeners are transported to the rugged Utah wilderness and into the hearts of those left searching for answers.
Desperation and Frustration:
As the search enters its second week, both officials and Eric’s family contend with feelings of being sidelined and helpless. Eric’s wife, Marilyn, and stepdaughter, Rachel, express frustration with the Duchesne County Sheriff's Office for lack of communication and involvement in the search process.
Statistical Realities:
Dave Cawley references data on missing persons, noting most survivors are found within four days. The odds after that drop drastically, adding a layer of grim realism as to why searches are scaled back.
Sparse Resources & Difficult Terrain:
Expectations clash with reality as the family arrives at Moon Lake, expecting crowds of volunteers but seeing only a small, exhausted group.
Insider Expertise:
Experienced mountaineer Art Lang shares critical insights, identifying the “navigation crux”—a confusing section where trails dissolve into sheep paths and signage is unreliable.
Helicopters, Volunteers, and Solo Searchers:
The sheriff’s office allows volunteers to be airlifted into remote areas, with Art eventually being dropped solo—against policy—due to necessity.
Physical Hazards:
Rachel, underprepared for alpine running, joins a half-marathon–length search, facing daunting physical and emotional challenges.
Lightning and Weather Risks:
Vivid descriptions and audio illustrate the perils of mountain weather.
Resource Constraints:
Officials communicate the unsustainable costs and risks, causing further tension and heartbreak for Marilyn and Rachel.
The Human Toll:
Marilyn and Rachel’s bond is tested by exhaustion and the strain of events, with an emotional outburst during a disoriented drive home—a raw display of stress and grief.
Last Search Efforts:
A donated helicopter and private contacts offer a final opportunity, but regulations and wilderness restrictions hinder private aerial searches.
Contemplating a Psychic:
In their desperation, the family considers but ultimately rejects consulting a psychic, recognizing the futility while also highlighting the lengths to which hope can drive the bereaved.
The End of the Search:
As resources dwindle, the sheriff arranges for Marilyn to see the search area from the air—a gesture that brings her and Rachel some peace and closure.
A Farewell Ritual:
Marilyn, Rachel, and friends build a cairn and place a photo of Eric among wildflowers—a symbolic and deeply personal act of closure.
Messages to Eric:
Marilyn records a message for loved ones:
Lingering Hope and Acceptance:
Despite the official end to the search, friends hold out hope—if only to ease their own hearts.
Nature’s Final Embrace:
As winter covers the Uintas in snow, the narrative draws to a close with the realization that Eric now rests in the place he loved, and that holding onto hope—even in loss—is an act of memory and love.
| Timestamp | Speaker | Quote/Moment | |------------|--------------------|---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| | 03:43 | Rachel | "It was like, you leave it to us. We've got this under control." | | 04:34 | Rachel | "What a wild thing to say to someone's spouse who's just flown across the world." | | 05:03 | Dave | "With the recovery of the victim either alive or dead beyond four days, the odds... dropped to about 1 in 100." | | 09:43 | Art Lang | "Upper Oweep close to that navigation crux was missing a trail... just hundreds of sheep trails going every which way." | | 17:39 | Rachel | "Adrenaline’s an amazing thing. It didn’t. It didn’t actually matter." | | 20:24 | Dave (Sheriff’s expl.) | "It would cost $5,000 an hour to bring in another chopper." | | 33:09 | Rachel | “Are you trying to get us both killed?” | | 35:01 | Rachel | "There's this hope, there’s this avenue of possibility, and then it’s not there anymore." | | 58:28 | Rachel | “I felt fortunate to have a sense of where he was... a real privilege.” | | 59:44 | Marilyn | "We all scarpet around, gathered suitable rocks and made them into a rock can to leave there for Eric." | | 61:57 | Rachel | "We have done our best to try and find you, but we can't do anymore... you'll be with us in so many other ways." | | 66:10 | Julia | "Maybe he's still out there and he's still alive, you know, because you don't know." | | 66:42 | Russ | "Someone will find him." |
Episode 6 of Uinta Triangle is a moving meditation on the intersection of hope, grief, and the unpredictable power of wilderness. Through the lens of a real-life disappearance, it lays bare the practical challenges of search and rescue, the limitations of human endurance, and the resilience of familial bonds. The episode closes with acceptance—a cairn marking both a man’s passing and the love that survives him—and a candid recognition that sometimes, the mountains decide to keep their secrets, at least for a while.