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 Wind Wind Range. For this father-daughter duo, bound by a shared love of the outdoors, it was meant to be another chapter in their story of pushing boundaries 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 more than a decade. With no evidence to be found despite exhaustive searches, Mount Hooker’s granite face keeps its secrets tight, fueling speculation and heartbreak. For fans of true adventure stories on Facebook, this tale of love, loss, and the wilderness is as captivating as it is devastating. Let’s delve into the Beckwiths’ journey, the challenges of Mount Hooker, and the enduring enigma of their disappearance.

A father-daughter bond forged in the wilderness.

Garrett Beckwith, a seasoned 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 through rugged landscapes, with each trip strengthening their bond. Garrett, a mentor and guide, taught Della the ropes—literally and figuratively—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 a 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 place. Located in the Wind River Range, a 100-mile-long spine of peaks in western Wyoming, Mount Hooker is a climber’s dream and a climber’s nightmare. Its north face, an 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 in X from 2012 show Della’s excitement: “Headed to Mount Hooker with Daddy, 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 Glove
Mount Hooker, which rises 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.”

The weather is the mountain’s wild card. Summer storms can sweep in with little warning, dropping temperatures to freezing and turning the granite with rain or ice. Data from the National Weather Service’s 2012 Wyoming records show July thunderstorms with 50 mph winds battering the Wind River Range, potentially trapping unsuspecting climbers. For Garrett and Della, last seen after their ascent on July 12, 2012, according to the Fremont County Sheriff’s Office, these conditions could have been catastrophic. Their gear—standard ropes, cameras, and lightweight packs, according to family accounts—was sufficient for a quick, light approach but offered little protection against prolonged exposure. As R/Wyomingwilderness speculated on Reddit, “Hooker’s north face is a death trap if you’re caught in a thunderstorm.”

The search turned up nothing: a mystery deepens. When Garrett and Della failed to return at their planned check-in on July 18, the family alerted the authorities. The Fremont County Sheriff’s Office launched a massive search and rescue operation, one of the largest in Wind River’s history. For 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 treacherous routes to check crevasses and astragalus fields. Despite the effort, which cost more than $200,000, according to Wyoming Public Radio, no trace was found. No gear, no clues, no bodies. As Sheriff Ryan Lee told the Casper Star-Tribune in August 2012, “It’s like they just vanished into the mountain.”

The lack of evidence gave rise to endless theories. Some climbers, per alpinism magazine, believe that 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 that disoriented them, possibly forcing a fatal detour into the range’s labyrinthine valleys. A 2015 article in the Outer Magazine floated hypothermia after a sudden change in weather, noting that Della’s lighter frame (5’4″, 120 lbs) was vulnerable. More speculative X-rated posts (@WildernessMysteries) suggest wildlife or foul play, though no animal activity was confirmed.