You know the hikes you remember, the ones that sneak up and flip your heart inside out?
That’s what happened to Margaux Cohen on a summer outing high above Squamish, British Columbia.
What was supposed to be a regular adventure with her dog Zion ended in a jaw-dropping 60-foot fall—and a story of survival, loyalty, and wild determination.
Margaux, 36, had been hiking Tricouni Peak with Zion (a happy pit bull mix) along with two friends, when they veered off the regular trail—just enough to run into trouble.
They faced a rock wall jutting across the path. Margaux’s friend went first; then Margaux followed, Zion trotting just beside her.
Then disaster struck. Zion slipped. Before she could think much, her instincts kicked in—Margaux grabbed his harness.
But the weight, the angle, it all combined in an instant. She tumbled. And tumbled again. And again.
It wasn’t a clean drop. It was more chaos in motion—rocks, face, arms, legs.
During the fall, Margaux remained conscious, even knowing Zion was close.
When she finally stopped sliding, she knew something was seriously wrong: her leg was twisted, her face bruised and bleeding.
She screamed. Fear hit. But what surprised her most? Zion was there beside her. Just wagging.
Suffering an injured paw maybe, but otherwise, alive and oddly unshaken.
Help came—but not too fast. It took about two hours for Squamish Search and Rescue teams to reach her.
Those hours stretched long in the summer heat on the bare rock—no shade, nothing but pain and waiting.
Margaux described them as impossible. Oxygen and adrenaline do some strange things, though.
Even in pain, she was aware. Lucky, she felt. Grateful too. It was surreal to still be breathing.
Then came the lift out: airlifted to hospital, surgeries, plates, recovery. It’s going to take time. Her leg was badly broken.
Her face swollen and wounded. Still, she made it. Zion—loyal, terrified at first maybe—was not okay fully, but alive.
That tail wag said more than he barked.
People online saw Margaux’s journey and saw more than just recklessness or luck. They saw unconditional love.
They saw what it means to grab someone by the harness when their life might depend on it.
They saw a bond that’s bigger than fear. Zion became a hero too—though by all accounts, he treated the whole thing like an unscheduled adventure.
Margaux has been honest: recovery will be hard. Months of physio. Multiple surgeries. A broken leg that won’t heal in a week.
But she says this: she wouldn’t change her instinct for anything.
Because Zion’s safety in that moment mattered more than pain or fear. And the fact that they both survived?
That’s something she’ll carry the rest of her life.
There’s a lesson here—one that matters whether you hike once a year or thrice a week.
Be ready. Trails are beautiful but fragile.
Dogs are family, and sometimes they slip—but what you do in that split second, what your love does, will define what comes next.
Margaux and Zion did not let that fall define them.
They define what survival, loyalty, and love look like when the ground drops away.
