I didn’t know Cabot Pitts. But when I read the message from Keith Atcheson and Jack Atcheson Jr. announcing his death, I found myself thinking about an awful lot of people I do know—and how much of my life I owe them. Some of the best friends I’ve made have been guides and outfitters who welcomed me into their country, shared what they knew, and sent me home with far more than a hunting story. Reading about Cabot, I wished I’d had the chance to add him to that company.
The Atchesons are among the revered names in the hunting community, and their words held the burden of people who had known and worked with him. They remembered a friend, a respected professional, and, above all, a devoted husband and father. Cabot owned Alaska Wild Wind Adventures and served as president of the Alaska Professional Hunters Association. Those were substantial responsibilities, but they tell only part of who he was.
On the evening of September 17, Cabot and Connor Helsel, an 18-year-old employee from Michigan, died when their Piper PA-18 Super Cub crashed after departing a dirt airstrip near Snag Creek in Wrangell-St. Elias National Park and Preserve. They were the airplane’s only occupants. According to the National Transportation Safety Board’s account to Alaska Public Media, Cabot was moving Connor between hunting camps. Investigators reported no eyewitnesses and no early indication of the cause. Time will tell as the investigation advances; there is no reason to substitute speculation for answers now.
Connor had traveled north to work for Cabot. At 18, he was only beginning his adult life, and his family deserves to be remembered alongside Cabot’s. Two people boarded that airplane, and two families are now living with a loss the rest of us can acknowledge but cannot begin to measure.
Cabot leaves his wife, Lily, and their daughters, Piper and Parker. Piper is 2. In their message, the Atchesons said Parker was only two weeks old. A separate support page organized for the family describes the community gathering around Lily and the girls, helping with meals and the daily responsibilities that don’t stop when a family’s world does. It is hard to read about those children without thinking of all the ordinary moments their father should have had ahead of him.
By the accounts of those who knew him, Cabot was a gem. Reading his own description of his life, I could understand something of the pull that took him north. He began hunting with his father at 4. During college, he traveled to Alaska to work as a packer, returned season after season, and eventually moved there after graduating from Virginia Tech. He became a guide, an outfitter, and a bush pilot, building a life around the country he loved. On his website, he offered a simple description of the relationship he hoped to have with his hunters: “you start as a client and leave as a friend.”
That line rings true to me. Across decades of hunting, fishing, and filming, some of my most enduring friendships have begun as arrangements on an itinerary. Spend enough time together in wild country, and you learn things about a person that years of casual acquaintance might never reveal. Patience matters. Judgment matters. So does a sense of humor when the weather has erased the plan, and everyone is tired. The people who remain generous under those circumstances tend to be people worth keeping in your life.
I think of guides and outfitters from Africa to the Arctic and across North America who have shared their world with me. They helped me understand places I would otherwise have merely visited. Through them, wildlife turned into more than something to photograph or pursue, and a landscape became more than a beautiful backdrop. I came to understand what those places meant to the people who lived there, what threatened them, and what might be lost. Much of my desire to save wild country for future generations has come from friendships with people who taught me to care about their home.
A great deal of work goes into the experiences we remember so fondly. For a client, a remote hunt might serve as the adventure of a lifetime. For the outfitter, making that adventure possible means moving people and supplies, maintaining equipment, watching conditions, and making decisions for which there may be no one else to turn to. The memorable days depend on countless less memorable jobs done well.
Whether the setting is an Alaskan mountain range, an African game trail, or a river far from the nearest road, I place enormous value on the judgment of the person leading the way. I don’t need a guide to prove how brave he is. I need someone willing to tell me we’re waiting, turning around, or trying again tomorrow. That kind of restraint deserves as much respect as any remarkable feat of wilderness skill.
Even so, accepting risk is part of pursuing an adventurous life. We know that. We make our choices, prepare as well as we can, and trust people whose knowledge we respect. None of that makes it easier when we lose one of our own. And I find little comfort from the familiar observation that someone died doing what he loved. He also loved people. He had reasons to come home.
That is where my thoughts return to Lily, Piper, and Parker. The hunting community cannot undo what happened. But we can make sure our concern lasts longer than the first wave of condolences. The Atchesons have shared a fundraiser for the family, offering those who are able a practical way to help. Passing it along can matter, too. So can remembering the family in the months ahead, when the news has moved on, and the absence remains.
I never shared a camp with Cabot Pitts, but I have been fortunate enough to share my life with people who followed the same calling. They have given me friendship, unforgettable days, and a deeper sense of responsibility for the natural world. I owe them more than I could repay.
Remembering Cabot should remind us to tell those people what they signify to us while we still have the chance—and to stand beside the families of those who don’t make it home.
The fundraiser shared by Jack Atcheson and Sons is available here: Support Lily, Piper, and Parker.