Forest Woodward

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In September 2017, I stepped up to the starting line of the Run Rabbit Run 100 in Steamboat Springs, Colorado, alongside my friend Jayson Sime. The race is a 102.9-mile ultramarathon with 20,000 feet of elevation gain, which is no small feat for a couple of guys who don’t know what they’re doing. How did the race go? You can watch our film, How to Run 100 Miles, to find out. No spoilers here.

Graham and Shannon are experienced athletes in alpine climbing and ultimate frisbee, respectively. But the adventurous couple is on a quest to try new outdoor sports together. In 2017, they tried mountain biking for the first time. This time they’re giving packrafting a go. After eight months of planning and training, they embark on a 10-day adventure to the remote Aniakchak caldera in Alaska. From wind and rainstorms to popped packrafts, they quickly learn that nothing could have fully prepared them for the adventure that ensues.

While it takes a village to raise a child, it takes an entire hemisphere to raise a raptor. A landscape devoid of raptors is without ecological integrity, the barometer of our collective wellbeing. High atop these remote ridgelines above the Great Basin, a region of unforgiving deserts, mountain ranges and sagebrush steppes, is the frontline of raptor conservation. Our journey began and ended with the whisk of broad wings. The golden eagle took flight and floated skyward. We had joined the migration and followed golden eagles for thousands of miles-a fraction of their entire route-and just long enough to peek into their remarkable journey. We got to know and admire the biologists and passionate volunteers who briefly intercept a handful of them along the way, gathering information that will help generations of raptors to come. And perhaps most importantly, we experienced what stewardship and conservation can accomplish.