CAN’T MOVE. COULD DIE.’

set in motion a desperate rescue effort.

BY IAN ALDRICH

n June 17 of last year, a Friday, at a little before 9 in the morning, Xi “Jesse” Chen texted his neighbor and longtime friend Dennis Gu about his weekend plans. A quiet, reserved man, Chen wasn’t one for bragging, but the 53-year-old industrial engineer had reason to feel excited about the upcoming three days. An experienced hiker who’d done extensive wilderness treks in Iceland and parts of Europe, Chen was most at home in New Hampshire’s White Mountains, which he’d begun exploring after moving to Massachusetts in the late 1990s.

Over the previous decade, especially, Chen had devoted many weekends to venturing north from his family’s home in Andover. Sometimes it was with his wife and three children in tow, but most often just with his teenage son, Kaiwen, who had the vim and vigor needed to complete the strenuous multiday climbs his father preferred. A patient observer who hiked with his camera always at the ready, Chen relished the chance to find secluded spots of beauty that he could share with others. As he did, Chen gave himself permission to let the work pressures that often draped over him fall away.

“He definitely seemed lighter when he was on those hikes,” says Kaiwen. “Even just waking up and having a cup of instant coffee, he’d really appreciate it. It was only instant coffee, but it was where he was. He was away from these other worries he might have had.”

Hiking became central to Chen’s life even when he wasn’t on the trail. A devoted follower of the popular outdoor YouTuber Kraig Adams, he obsessed over finding the newest, lightest camping gear and kept a rolling list on his phone of the hikes he wanted to accomplish, including Mount Kilimanjaro. He also set a personal goal of climbing all 48 of the White Mountains’ 4,000-footers by 2025. On a wall in his kitchen, Chen even hung a map of those peaks, with color-coded pins for the ones he’d completed and the people he’d climbed with. By last June, he had already ticked off 21 of the climbs. Now, as he geared up for another trip to New Hampshire, he planned to knock off a few more.

Chen had set his sights on the Presidential Traverse, a rugged 20-mile journey that crosses seven 4,000-foot peaks, all named after U.S. presidents: Madison, Adams, Jefferson, Washington, Monroe, Eisenhower, and Pierce. One of the more storied routes in the Whites, the Presidential Traverse courses from peak to peak, taking hikers high above the treeline and rewarding them with views that extend deep across far northern New England. But that same terrain offers no relief from the elements, and the weather can turn ugly in an instant. Among serious White Mountain hikers, conquering the traverse is a true badge of honor.

Chen had scheduled his climb for Father’s Day weekend with the hopes that his son, a junior at Worcester Polytechnic Institute , could join him. But when Kaiwen couldn’t free up his schedule, Chen decided to go solo. About an hour before he left Andover, he texted a photo of his pack to his friend Gu.

I booked one year ago, supposed to go with Kaiwen, but he took summer classes and quite busy, Chen wrote. So I have to go by myself. He then added: Anyway this is a Loner Sport.

Awesome , Gu messaged back. Be careful when you are hiking by yourself

No problem , came the reply. Still more relax [sic] than work

By that evening, Chen had set up camp at the Madison Tent Site, a serene little spot enclosed by a grove of hardwoods off the Valley Way Trail at the base of Mount Madison. With his drone he made a 10-second video of the area, the camera rising above a proud-looking Chen to reveal the surrounding landscape. Chen did a quick edit of the footage, adding some music to the shot, then posted it on YouTube and sent the link to his family and Gu.

The following day, Chen rose early and set out on a 10-mile course to his base for the night: the Appalachian Mountain Club’s Lake of the Clouds Hut, just south of the highest mountain in the Northeast, Mount Washington . But a gray, wet start soon gave way to torrential downpours and eventually winter-like weather. With just a mile left in his trek, Chen—hammered by freezing rain,

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