The crowds left Glacier National Park in mid-September. By the end of the month, swarms of tourists become a trickle, and by early October, when the snow began to coat the mountains and the going-to-the-sun road was closed for the season, only the most daring souls passed through the park’s entrance.

Robert Conroy was one of those daring few.  He slipped into the park in the early morning hours, skirted the barriers just past the Lake McDonald chalet, and continued up the forbidden road towards Logan’s Pass. Later in the morning, park rangers and maintenance workers would have chased him away, but this early in the day – and this late in the season – he continued the drive to the top uncontested. The tires on his Bonneville fought for traction where snow and ice covered the road, and twice he slid perilously close to the short brick walls that stood between him and a 200 foot drop into the abyss, but still he kept on.

The usually majestic vistas were hidden behind low hanging clouds, but even had the day been clear, the treacherous road demanded his full attention. And he was on a mission. There was no time for gawking.

At Logan’s Pass – the top of the park – he pulled into the lot and parked next to a cluster of maintenance vehicles well past the tourist center. A thick mist covered the ground, and visibility was limited to a dozen yards as he made his way past the visitor center and beyond the boardwalk that led to Hidden Lake. Once he was on the long, narrow dirt path, the clouds came into play. He knew from past hikes that an alpine mountain towered over him just a few dozen yards to the right, but he could see none of it. Had there been anyone on the path with him, he wouldn’t have been able to see them until they were virtually on top of one another. It was all he could do to keep his eye on the trail and not stray from the path he’d set for himself nearly a year ago.

Eventually the trail led to a rocky embankment and a short climb before the trail picked up again. But for Robert, this was where the marked trail came to an end. Rather than follow the path the rest of the way down to Hidden Lake, he veered left where he knew – unseen – yet another towering peak awaited him.

He moved over uneven ground now, trudging through calve-deep snow in places, unable to get his visual bearings through the cloud cover, but certain he was on the right trajectory. He stumbled once into a small furrow full of freezing water, and his feet became instantly numb. Still he moved forward. Another ten minutes, and the side of the mountain began to reveal itself. If was a scraggly, near vertical face, but he knew there were plenty of hand and toeholds.

As he approached, the black rock continued to emerge from the cloud, streaked with snow and utterly featureless save for the jagged protrusion that climbed into the sky, farther than he could see. Given his freezing feet and the chills that were beginning to wrack his body, Robert knew that he wouldn’t be able to climb far before he fell. But he would do whatever it took to make sure he climbed far enough.