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Luna tightens her grip on the ice-axe and stares into the white emptiness. Above the Snowline is an anthology of high-altitude horror, where the thin air whispers secrets and the cold does more than freeze. Each episode is a self-contained story set in the world's most remote peaks — from the Himalaya to the Andes, from the Alps to the frozen ranges of Alaska. Luna guides you through tales of climbers who find things better left buried beneath the ice, of solitary mountaineers who hear voices in the wind, and of expeditions that vanish without a trace. The stories are slow-burn, atmospheric, and grounded in the real terrors of altitude: hypoxia, crevasses, avalanches, and the fragile line between survival and madness. But beneath the snow and rock, older things stir — things that have waited for centuries. Luna's narration is quiet, intimate, as if she's huddled beside you in a tent, the storm pressing against the fabric, telling you the one story she swore she'd never repeat. Each episode stands alone, but the cold will follow you long after the story ends. And when you think you've heard the last word, listen to the wind. It might answer back.
Unknown Host hosts Above the Snowline — Fexingo Horror.
Late autumn, 2017. A solo climber disappears near Barker Pass, high in the Wyoming Rockies. Search and rescue finds her tent, her gear, and a journal with pages torn out. Luna's friend, a ranger named Nora, was one of th
In the summer of 2017, a solo hiker named June Carver stayed an extra night at the Aneroid Lake cabin in Oregon's Eagle Cap Wilderness. She heard a bell ringing from the ridge at midnight—a brass handbell, not a bear bel
Deep in the San Juan Mountains of Colorado, a high alpine pass closes for winter. But one year, the rangers found a man living in a snow cave above treeline — no tent, no sled, no way out. Luna met him on the last day of
In February of 2019, a snowplow driver on Wyoming Highway 287 noticed a light flickering from the summit of Togwotee Pass — a place no one should have been after dark. The pass had been closed for three days due to white
In the summer of 2019, a solo climber on the east face of Mount Moran in Wyoming's Teton Range heard a voice calling from deep inside a crevasse. It was a woman's voice, clear and calm, asking for help. But when she foll
Six winters ago, Luna was pulling a late-season solo patrol below the Burnt Timber Ridge in Montana when a woman appeared at the door of the ranger station at three in the morning. She was wearing a summer-weight anorak
It was the winter of 2011, and I was staying at a hunting cabin outside a town called Mercy Creek, Idaho. Population seventy-three, one general store, and a road that dead-ends at Trapper Lake. I went there to be alone f
Luna hears a story from a retired climbing ranger about a solo climber on Diamond Peak who buried her rope at the summit in 1997, and the unmarked grave the ranger found the next spring. A meditation on solitude, obsessi
In the winter of 2019, I spent three nights alone at the Onion Valley trailhead, waiting for a woman who had been dead for six years. She was a hiker named Cora who vanished from the Pacific Crest Trail in 2013, but ever
When a February blizzard pins Luna and her climbing partner inside a remote warming hut on the eastern flank of the Bitterroots, they discover they're not alone. A man is already there: no gear, no supplies, just a worn
December 2007. A solo snowshoer takes shelter in a high alpine cave north of Lost Lake Pass, Oregon. Inside she finds the remains of a camp — sleeping bag, journal, melted candle — and a name scratched into the rock. The
The story of what happened on the last night of October 2017, when a rancher named Harlan Finch pulled down a section of fence on Cutter Road, just outside the ghost town of Ten Sleep, Wyoming. Luna pieces together what
Luna takes a detour off the Pacific Crest Trail to spend an autumn night at the Lost Creek Hotel, a crumbling alpine lodge in the Sierra Nevada. The hotel's map room is its pride—a century of hand-drawn trails, handwritt
On a frozen November night in 2009, Luna stops at a small firewatch tower outside the town of Wandering River, Alaska. The woman tending the stove there, Margie, has been alone for sixty-three days. She feeds the fire. S
In September 2018, I spent a week alone at the Mount Emmons fire lookout in the Uinta-Wasatch-Cache National Forest. The tower had been decommissioned for years, but I had a key. The sunset on the fourth evening was the
In late September of 2017, I spent three nights alone at a backcountry fire lookout on the edge of the Strawberry Mountains. The third night, a woman came up the trail past the posted closure signs—no pack, no coat, no h
It was late October 2019 when Luna met a man named Elias at a trailhead diner in Silverton, Colorado. He was preparing to cross Dead Man Pass before the first big snow. He told her about a storm that had trapped a party
November 2019. A snowstorm strands Luna at a remote gas station on Wolf Creek Pass in southern Colorado. The attendant, a man named Silas, tells her about a hermit who lives in an abandoned mine shaft higher up the mount
Luna recounts a night in February 2019 when she stopped at the Lost Creek Hotel, a crumbling three-story inn on the edge of a dying Colorado mining town. The owner, a hollow-eyed woman named Mrs. Hargrave, warned her nev
Mount Shasta, winter of 2019. Luna takes a last-minute contract to monitor a remote weather station at 9,000 feet. The previous monitor left early without explanation. The station is a single room with a wood stove, a sa
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