Ronald Palmer Eckhardt's Obituary
Ron’s story began in Blue Earth, Minnesota, where he was born to two first-generation German-Americans. In his youth, he fell in love with the northern wilderness where he honed the skills of a premiere outdoorsman along the canoe trails. He discovered a deep connection to the Boundary Waters. He possessed a proclivity for carpentry and craftsmanship and created ruggedly beautiful works of wood and leather. He was a skilled marksman and enjoyed a lifelong affinity for archery and traditional firearms, a passion derived from his time hunting in the woods with his father. As a young man, Ron found himself compelled by dreams of a grand westward adventure. He tore across America’s highways on his motorcycle with a band of hometown hellions, with whom he eventually journeyed to Mexico, returning with wild stories and a black widow tattoo. At the age of 27, Ron set out to Jackson, Wyoming, where he found work at a lumber mill and built homes with his brother. Timeworn photographs capture him there in the mountains astride a black horse, his blue eyes glinting beneath the brim of his Stetson; his formidable stature belied his gentle countenance, but his warmth was revealed in his smile. It was in Jackson that Ron discovered a career on the open road—a road that would lead him southwest to Utah three years later. Ron settled in Pleasant View where, in a quintessential American romance, he fell in love with the girl next door. He met Kelly in the driveway, and they felt an instantaneous connection; they were wed fewer than six months later. They bought a home on four acres nestled among the trees with a view of the Wasatch Range where they welcomed their son, Cole, their first and only child, into the world. Ron honored his wandering spirit by carving out his livelihood from behind the wheel of an eighteen-wheeler—braving switchbacks across the Rocky Mountains and traversing moonlit deserts west to the Pacific—ensuring that his wife and son never wanted for anything. He imparted his brand of gentle wisdom onto his son and remained a stalwart source of love and safety for his wife. He returned from every long-haul to the home he built, passing beneath the white timber archway down the dirt road where the horses raced to greet him, down to the house where his family and two dogs waited to welcome him home. He loved life, family, and the mountains. Mostly, he was loved.
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