There are no trails here, our path meandering over streams, through dense alder thickets, over water-pockmarked muskeg, and up hillsides that only ascend sharper the closer to the top one reaches. This is a true wilderness: signs of humanity are slim, but the deep tracks of moose, bear, and wolf are abundant. Mountains etch into the horizon on nearly all sides. Katolinat is the lonely but impressive sentinel to the north. The immense cone of Griggs dwarfs the Valley of Ten Thousand Smokes to the East. To the south, just out of view, lay the imposing snow-drenched profile of Mageik. These mountains carry names that hint at storied histories. Each of these peaks have loomed over the homes of past peoples that thrived near the abundant streams and lakes below. Each of these peaks have borne witness to the efforts of hardy travellers who alternately praised and cursed their hard slopes.