A Climber's Legacy Lives on in Wyoming

If nature is the greatest teacher, then Wyoming’s Wind River Range is the school of hard knocks. And that’s exactly why Vaughn Fetzer loved it.

“They call it ‘the Winds’ for a reason,” says Bill Cole, a longtime friend and frequent climbing partner of Fetzer’s. “The storms come up without any warning. It dishes out everything that nature can—such a raw place.”

An accomplished climber, Fetzer—who died in 2021—lived life with a near-obsessive zeal for the outdoors and the challenges it affords. When forced to bivouac (make a temporary camp en route up a mountain) in the cold, for example, Fetzer would flash a wry grin even as other climbers groaned: “He wanted to bivvy,” says Cole. “He thought it was neat to suffer like that.”

To Fetzer, it wasn’t suffering, though; it was something closer to enlightenment. A practicing Buddhist, he was drawn back to the solitude of the Wind River Range time and time again. “He was always planning a trip to the Winds; he would go there at least once a year,” says Cole, who adventured with Fetzer for 15 years, including a stint in the Himalayas.

Cole also accompanied Fetzer on his final trip, so to speak. Fetzer died while climbing alone on Colorado’s Blanca Peak, a “Fourteener” in Colorado’s Sangre de Cristo Range, about three hours from his home in Durango. He was 57. Afterward, Cole and fellow climber Chad Diesinger hiked out to Titcomb Basin in Fetzer’s beloved Wind River Range, climbed Winifred Peak, and spread Fetzer’s ashes, along with those of his longtime canine companion, Gaylu.

“He got Gaylu when he was teaching in the [Alaskan] bush,” notes Hank Billings, another close friend of Fetzer’s. Of the name, he says it’s a Yup’ik word. “It might mean ‘barks a lot,’” he recalls with a chuckle. In fact, many memories of Fetzer come with a smile or a laugh. “He was really funny,” says Billings, a general contractor based in Fairbanks, adding that Fetzer had a secure sense of self that allowed him to laugh at himself—a trait Billings admired.

There is no faking your way up a climb. It truly is an opportunity to get past ego and identity and come face to face with who you are and what you are capable of.”

– Luis Benitez, mountaineer and former TPL chief impact officer

Something else he admired was Fetzer’s humility. Despite his many trips and an incredible climbing resume, “he didn’t really brag on himself,” says Billings. He and others describe Fetzer as curious, kind, thoughtful, selfless, and service-oriented— qualities well-exhibited by his chosen professions of elementary school teacher and, later, nurse.

Friends credit Fetzer’s admirable qualities, in part, to a great deal of time spent outdoors: “It kept him grounded,” says Billings. “It helped him reconnect with who he was . . . and look at what he wanted in life.”

Luis Benitez, a mountaineer and former TPL chief impact officer, says climbing offers self-reflection in a way other sports cannot: “There is no faking your way up a climb,” he explains. “It truly is an opportunity to get past ego and identity and come face to face with who you are and what you are capable of.”

On trips into the Wind River Range, says Cole, “Vaughn would really be particular about finding a proper campsite so he could meditate on a rock and be able to see the Titcomb Basin peaks in the horizon.” This orientation helped him “psyche up his mind” and prepare for the next challenging climb.

Photo: bmssanson/iStock, Illustration: River Scales

Trust for Public Land has protected land all around Titcomb Basin: In the Southern Wind River Range, TPL staff worked with the local ranching community to remove domesticated sheep from 64,000 acres in the Bridger–Teton National Forest, which had “profound impacts on the landscape and critical habitat for native wildlife,” according to Chris Deming, TPL’s director of land protection in the Northern Rockies. Bighorn sheep, mule deer, and other animals now use the space as a migration corridor, and hikers and climbers can reach such iconic destinations as the Cirque of the Towers. At Hoback Basin, TPL bought and retired oil and gas leases over 100,000 acres of national forest, ensuring recreational access to the area in perpetuity.

In keeping with his generous spirit and love of the outdoors, Fetzer made TPL the primary beneficiary of his estate. His gift will support TPL’s work in Wyoming and Montana—ensuring others will be able to experience the landscape that inspired and trained him for decades. “A lot of us realize that nature is the source of life and happiness,” says Tanya Hodges, a friend and coworker of Fetzer’s. “I believe Vaughn had the same sentiment, and that is why he donated to the Trust for Public Land.”

“A lot of us realize that nature is the source of life and happiness. I believe Vaughn had the same sentiment, and that is why he donated to the Trust for Public Land.”

– Tanya Hodges, a friend and coworker of Fetzer’s

A South Carolina native, Edgar Vaughn Fetzer moved to Montana to attend graduate school and fell in love with the Northern Rockies. Even after relocating to Alaska—hardly short on natural beauty—he returned to the area during summer breaks. “He would take Gaylu down there, and they would spend multiple weeks hiking,” says Billings.

A skier heads up a snowy trail in Wyoming. Hoback Basin, where TPL protected 100,000 acres of forest, is the big valley between the skier and the distant mountains. Photo: Thomas Turiano

Once Fetzer began climbing, he grew to appreciate the region’s advanced mountaineering opportunities. Like a favorite book you get something new out of with each reading, the Wind River Range revealed new pieces of itself to Fetzer over the years, luring him back, teaching him more with every visit.

“It wasn’t just a playground,” says Cole in agreement. “It was also a school.” The Wind River Range is where Fetzer developed his climbing skills—be it on ice, snow, or rock. “It has everything,” says Cole, “the steep rock, the glaciers, the crevasses, the snow fields.”

Fetzer’s connection to the Wind River Range is now cemented in time; he’s become a part of the landscape he loved. And Cole says Winifred Peak felt like the perfect final resting place: “It all worked out really well,” he reports, including “two days of rain pelting us like we were in a car wash”—just as Fetzer would have liked it. “That’s the way the Winds are.”

Amy McCullough is managing editor and senior writer at Trust for Public Land. She is also the author of The Box Wine Sailors, an adventure memoir.

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