Sam first saw the river on a map in his grandfather's desk. Since the old man had recently died, he took possession of the frayed and stained document, often wondering about its significance. To his knowledge, Pappy had never visited the Pacific Coast.
Rising from a glacier, set amidst towering peaks, the river tumbles westward through rock-walled canyons and a rich, subalpine forest. At the base of the mountain, Eagle River, named for the bald eagles that feed on its salmon, snakes across the coastal plain before entering the sea.
Throughout his long, troubled life, Sam planned to visit that river one day and now, three years after Karen's death, it seemed that the time had come. After packing his truck and locking up the house, Sam cut across rolling farmlands to the Interstate. There he began his trek toward the northwest, crossing grasslands, desert and several high ranges along the way. Avoiding the major cities, he spent his nights in campgrounds and cooked his meals over an open fire. Though he wished Gus was still alive to keep him company, Sam relished the solitude and had to admit that his old hound would have complicated the journey.
Four days after leaving home, Sam coaxed his aging pickup across a final pass and began a long, winding descent into the Eagle River Valley. Herds of elk grazed on the open meadows and stands of golden aspen shimmered in the bright autumn sun. Eventually leaving the mountain forest, the route entered a ponderosa parkland where views extended back toward the higher peaks. Far to the northeast was a magnificent waterfall, one of several on the tributaries of the Eagle.
It would be another half hour before the road paralleled the river and Sam stopped at several overlooks to observe the rapids and, yes, to watch eagles as they hunted along the turbulent stream. Still many miles from the ocean, he came upon a beautiful clearing, studded with pines and glowing in the late afternoon sun. This site, which looked both inviting and familiar, would be his campground for the night and he pulled off the road to unload his truck. Lucky enough to snare a trout from the river, Sam enjoyed his evening meal as the sun set behind a low ridge. Later, beneath a bowl of stars, he sauntered down to the river, wanting to see the Eagle in the light of the Hunter's Moon.
Several days later, a sheriff's deputy came upon his camp site. There we no signs of foul play and information from the truck revealed that the owner had travelled a long distance to visit this idyllic valley. Sam was never found. Some suspected a bear attack but most believed he fell into the powerful river, swept toward the sea and to his death.
