On a sunny, calm, and quite cold early morning in the first week of October, an hour into a long dayhike and scramble up the second-highest peak in the Sawtooths, 10,716-foot Mount Cramer, a friend and I walked along the shore of Hell Roaring Lake. With not a breath of wind in the air, the lake’s surface had transformed into a perfect mirror of the peaks across the lake, including the sharp profile of the Finger of Fate.

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