In the summer of 2012, Garrett Beckwith and his 19-year-old daughter, Della, embarked on a climbing adventure to conquer Mount Hooker in Wyoming’s rugged Wind River Range. For this father-daughter duo, bound by a shared love for the outdoors, it was meant to be another chapter in their story of pushing limits and forging memories. But the unforgiving 12,500-foot peak had other plans. Garrett and Della vanished without a trace, leaving behind a haunting mystery that has gripped adventurers, search-and-rescue teams, and outdoor enthusiasts for over a decade. With no evidence found despite exhaustive searches, Mount Hooker’s granite face holds its secrets tight, fueling speculation and heartbreak. For fans of true adventure stories on Facebook, this tale of love, loss, and the wild is as captivating as it is devastating. Let’s dive into the Beckwiths’ journey, the challenges of Mount Hooker, and the enduring enigma of their disappearance
A Father-Daughter Bond Forged in the Wild 
Garrett Beckwith, an experienced outdoorsman, and his daughter Della, a spirited 19-year-old, were no strangers to the call of the mountains. Their shared passion for climbing and hiking had taken them across rugged landscapes, with each trip strengthening their bond. Garrett, a mentor and guide, taught Della the ropes—literally and figuratively—instilling in her the skills to tackle steep ascents and the courage to face nature’s unpredictability. Della, in turn, brought youthful energy and a fearless drive to test her limits, making them a formidable team. As one family friend recalled in a 2013 Wyoming Tribune interview, “Garrett and Della were two peas in a pod—always planning their next climb, always chasing adventure.”
Their 2012 trip to Mount Hooker was ambitious but not out of character. Located deep in the Wind River Range, a 100-mile-long spine of peaks in western Wyoming, Mount Hooker is a climber’s dream and nightmare. Its north face, a sheer 1,800-foot granite wall, is one of the most technical climbs in the continental U.S., demanding multi-day treks through dense forests and boulder fields just to reach the base. The Beckwiths, undeterred, saw it as the ultimate test. Posts on X from 2012 show Della’s excitement: “Headed to Mount Hooker with Dad—ready for the challenge!” (@DellaClimbs). For Garrett, it was another chance to share the wilderness with his daughter, a bond no peak could break—or so they thought.
Mount Hooker’s Brutal Challenge: A Climber’s Gauntlet
Mount Hooker, rising to 12,504 feet, is a beast even for seasoned climbers. Its remote location in the Wind River Range—hours from the nearest road—means no quick rescues or cell service. The approach requires days of backpacking through unpredictable terrain, with grizzly bears, sudden rockfalls, and erratic weather posing constant threats. The north face, a vertical granite slab, demands advanced technical skills: climbers must navigate cracks, overhangs, and exposure with pitches rated up to 5.11+ (Yosemite Decimal System). As Climbing Magazine noted in a 2014 feature, “Mount Hooker’s isolation and exposure leave zero room for error—one misstep can be fatal.”
Weather is the mountain’s wildcard. Summer storms can sweep in with little warning, dropping temperatures to freezing and turning granite slick with rain or ice. Data from the National Weather Service’s 2012 Wyoming records show July thunderstorms with 50 mph winds hit the Wind River Range, potentially catching climbers off guard. For Garrett and Della, last spotted beginning their ascent on July 12, 2012, per Fremont County Sheriff’s reports, these conditions could have been catastrophic. Their gear—standard ropes, cams, and lightweight packs, per family accounts—suited a fast-and-light approach but offered little buffer against prolonged exposure. As r/WyomingWilderness on Reddit speculates, “Hooker’s north face is a death trap if you’re caught in a storm.”
The Search That Found Nothing: A Mystery Deepens
When Garrett and Della failed to return by their planned July 18 check-in, family alerted authorities. The Fremont County Sheriff’s Office launched a massive search-and-rescue operation, one of the largest in Wind River history. Over three weeks, helicopters scoured the peaks, dogs sniffed trails, and ground crews combed 50 square miles of rugged terrain. Climbers familiar with Mount Hooker joined volunteers, rappelling dangerous routes to check crevasses and talus fields. Despite the effort—costing over $200,000, per Wyoming Public Radio—no trace was found. No gear, no tracks, no bodies. As Sheriff Ryan Lee told the Casper Star-Tribune in August 2012, “It’s like they vanished into the mountain.”
The absence of evidence birthed endless theories. Some climbers, per Alpinist Magazine, believe a fall on the north face sent them into a crevasse or buried them under loose rock, common on Hooker’s unstable slopes. Others point to a storm disorienting them, possibly forcing a fatal detour into the range’s labyrinthine valleys. A 2015 Outside Magazine piece floated hypothermia after a sudden weather shift, noting Della’s lighter frame (5’4”, 120 lbs) was vulnerable. More speculative X posts (@WildernessMysteries) suggest wildlife or foul play, though no bear activity or human tracks were confirmed. The remoteness—25 miles from the nearest trailhead—means evidence could lie hidden forever. As one SAR volunteer lamented, “Hooker’s too vast, too cruel. It swallows what it wants.”
A Legacy of Love and Loss: The Beckwiths’ Enduring Impact
For the Beckwith family, the lack of closure is a relentless ache. Garrett, 48, was a high school science teacher in Lander, WY, known for inspiring kids with tales of his climbs. Della, a freshman at the University of Wyoming, was a rising star in the climbing community, with a blog chronicling her ascents. Their disappearance left a void in Lander, where annual vigils draw hundreds, per Wyoming News. A 2013 memorial fund in their name supports youth outdoor programs, raising $50,000 by 2025. “They lived for the mountains,” Garrett’s wife, Sarah, told NPR in 2014. “That’s how we honor them—by keeping their spirit alive.”
The climbing world hasn’t forgotten either. Mount Hooker’s north face, dubbed “The Beckwith Route” by locals, is a pilgrimage for adventurers paying homage. Posts on X (@ClimbWyoming) call it “a testament to their courage.” Yet, the mystery lingers like a shadow. Was it a fall? A storm? A miscalculation? The Wind River Range’s silence offers no answers, only questions that haunt forums and campfires. As Climbing.com wrote in 2022, “Garrett and Della are part of Hooker’s myth now—heroes lost to the wild.”
Broader Context: The Risks and Rewards of High Adventure
The Beckwiths’ story underscores the razor’s edge of high-altitude climbing. The Wind River Range, with 19 peaks over 13,000 feet, sees dozens of SAR missions yearly—12 in 2012 alone, per Wyoming SAR records. Nationally, the American Alpine Club reports 0.13 deaths per 1,000 climbing days in the U.S., with falls (40%) and weather (25%) leading causes. Mount Hooker’s north face, with a 10% summit success rate (Rock and Ice, 2015), is a stark reminder: Nature doesn’t care about skill or passion. Yet, for climbers like Garrett and Della, the risk is the point—the chance to touch the sublime, to test human limits against stone and sky. Their story resonates on Facebook, where adventure groups like “Wilderness Warriors” share it as both warning and inspiration.
Garrett and Della Beckwith’s disappearance on Mount Hooker is a heart-wrenching chapter in the annals of American climbing. Their love for each other and the wild drove them to Wyoming’s fiercest peak, only for its granite jaws to claim them without a trace. Over a decade later, the mystery endures—did they fall, freeze, or lose their way? For fans on Facebook, their story is a call to the wild and a sobering reminder of its cost. As the Wind River Range looms, unyielding, it holds Garrett and Della’s legacy: not just a tragedy, but a testament to a bond forged in adventure. What do you think happened on that fateful climb?
