On a cold, rain soaked night in May 1979, campers at Mount
Rainier National Park Sunshine Point Campground witnessed A
puzzling scene. A young woman stumbled out of
the darkness with her dog, rain dripping from her clothes.
She seemed dazed and incoherent, muttering words no one could
piece together. Concerned campers offered help,
but the woman wandered off into the wet blackness with her
faithful canine at her side. By dawn, her campsite was eerily
quiet. Her tent and belongings were
still there, but she and her dog had vanished.
It was as if the mountain itself had swallowed them whole.
That was just the beginning. Over the years, Mount Rainier's
breathtaking wilderness has played host to a number of
chilling disappearances. Hikers, climbers, park employees
and visitors have walked into the forests and foothills of
this majestic volcano, never to return.
Each case is a story with no ending, timelines that simply
stop, leaving rescuers and loved ones grasping for answers.
Today, we will journey into six of these true mysteries from
Mount Rainier National Park, spanning decades and
circumstances. Each story unfolds in the shadow
of the same towering peak, yet each is uniquely baffling.
These accounts are told in a storytelling style, with
suspense, twists, and vivid detail sticking only to known
facts and credible reports. We won't indulge legends or
folklore. No Bigfoot or supernatural lore
here, just real events documented by Park Rangers, law
enforcement, and family members. As we delve into each
disappearance, consider the dual nature of Mount Rainier, a place
of serene natural beauty and unforgiving danger.
By the end, you may find yourself eyeing even the most
peaceful Woodlands with a new sense of caution.
Now, let's step back in time to that rainy Memorial Day weekend
in 1979 and uncover what little we know about the first
vanishing, the story of a young woman and her dog who walked
into the mist and never returned.
Case One. The rainy night vanishing.
Elaine Robertson 1979 On Memorial Day weekend in 197924,
year old Elaine Marie Robertson set out on a road trip from her
home in San Luis Obispo, CA to Mount Rainier National Park in
Washington. Elaine was an adventurous spirit
and had decided to spend the holiday camping amidst Rainier's
towering evergreens. She drove her 1968 Volkswagen
Van N, likely eager to trade the bustle of California for the
crisp Alpine air of the Pacific Northwest.
By the evening of Sunday, May 27th, Elaine had made it to the
outskirts of the park. But something was clearly wrong.
That night, under a relentless downpour, Elaine wandered into
the Sunshine Point campground near the Parks Nisqually River
entrance. Other campers observed that
Elaine appeared disoriented, even incoherent, as she moved
through the campground with her dog at her side.
She was drenched from the rain and perhaps shivering from cold.
Concerned by her condition, a few people tried to talk with
her, but Elaine's words didn't make sense.
She seemed confused and possibly in distress.
Some later described her behavior as if she were not
fully aware of her surroundings. Eventually, Elaine and her dog
retreated to her campsite in the rainy darkness.
Campers could only hope she would be OK through the night.
When the morning of May 28th arrived, the storm had eased,
but an unsettling discovery emerged.
Elaine was gone. Her campsite was found
abandoned. All her belongings were left
behind in her tent, yet neither she nor her dog were anywhere to
be found. Park Rangers were alerted that a
camper had seemingly disappeared overnight.
Given Elaine's confused state the night before, this
immediately raised alarms. A search was quickly organized
in the lush, dripping woods around Sunshine Point.
What Rangers found only deepened the mystery.
Not far from the campground, they located Elaine's Volkswagen
van parked about a mile away from her site.
The van was intact, suggesting Elaine hadn't driven off.
It appeared as if she had left the van, walked to the
campground with her dog, and then somehow vanished from the
area on foot. But how far could a person go in
the dark, rain soaked night while disoriented and without
any of her gear? Searchers combed the vicinity,
calling out her name and scanning the riverbanks and
trails. They found no sign of Elaine or
her dog. It was as if they had evaporated
with the night rain. For days, Pierce County
sheriff's deputies and Park Rangers conducted an extensive
search. They scoured the densely
forested campground area and the raging Nisqually River nearby,
fearing that perhaps Elaine might have wandered into the
river in the darkness. If she had been suffering from
hypothermia or a mental health crisis, she might not have
realized the peril. Sadly, no trace was ever found.
Not a piece of clothing, not footprints, and not her dog.
It was as though the rainy woods had swallowed them whole.
Elaine's disappearance baffled authorities in both Washington
and her home state. In fact, both Washington and
Oregon police opened investigations into her case.
Elaine had family ties in the Pacific Northwest, which might
explain Oregon's involvement. They looked into her background
for any clues. Elaine had been described as a
free spirit. Some reports indicate she may
have been going through personal struggles, but nothing pointed
clearly to why she became incoherent That night.
There was speculation. Did Elaine possibly ingest
something, drugs or wild berries that cause disorientation?
Did she suffer a medical issue like a diabetic episode or a
concussion? Or was she simply exhausted and
hypothermic, leading to confusion?
Any of these could have caused her to make irrational
decisions, like fleeing her campsite with no gear.
One alarming possibility was that Elaine, in her delirium,
might have stumbled into the Nisqually River.
The river, fed by glacial melt, was running high and fast that
night. Late spring rain combined with
melting snowpack. If Elaine or her dog slipped
into those frigid waters, they could have been swept away in an
instant. The rivers powerful currents
could carry a body downstream, possibly far outside the initial
search area. But without any evidence on the
riverbanks, searchers couldn't confirm that theory.
The dog's disappearance also added to the puzzle.
A dog might instinctively avoid rushing water.
If something else happened to Elaine on land, one might expect
the dog to stay near her belongings or alert someone
unless it too, was incapacitated or loyal to the point of
following her into danger. Another theory less likely but
considered, was foul play. Did someone encounter Elaine in
her vulnerable state that night and harm her?
It's pure speculation. No signs of struggle or violence
were noted at her campsite or in her van.
Her valuables were reportedly left behind, ruling out robbery.
Campgrounds are normally communal and relatively safe,
but the cover of a stormy night could conceal nefarious actions.
Yet there were no reports of screams or disturbances that
night. Aside from the heavy rain, this
theory found little support with investigators, and there were no
known suspects. In the end, Elaine Robertson's
case went cold. She was officially listed as a
missing person, and to this day, her case remains unsolved.
Over the years, Elaine's family and friends have been left with
nothing but painful uncertainty. Her disappearance is one of the
oldest unsolved missing persons cases in Mount Rainier's
history, and it continues to haunt those who remember that
compassionate, outdoorsy young woman.
For the park. Elaine's vanishing was a
sobering incident. Here was a visitor who hadn't
strayed deep into the Backcountry or attempted A
treacherous climb. She was in a front country
campground, close to roads and fellow campers.
And still she simply disappeared without a trace, illustrating
how easily 1 can be lost even in relatively accessible areas.
Elaine's story set a precedent that Mount Rainier, despite its
postcard beauty, can hold dark secrets.
The image of the empty, rain soaked tent at Sunshine Point
with camping gear left untouched serves as a grim reminder that
not every park story ends with a safe return home.
The mountain keeps Elaine's fate tightly guarded.
All we know is that on that stormy night in 1979, Elaine
Robertson and her beloved dog walked into the rainy darkness
of Mount Rainier and they were never seen again.
Moving forward nearly two decades, our next case is
altogether different. This time, the missing person
left behind an even more disturbing scene, a vehicle
found with its engine running and blood smeared inside, but no
sign of its driver. Buckle up for the perplexing
disappearance of a woman named Ramona, whose troubled journey
into Mount Rainier's wilderness led to a chilling mystery.
Case 2 The Bloody Jeep Mystery Ramona Lynn Faye 1995 On July
17th, 1995, Ramona Lynn Faye, age 39, woke up in a fragile
state of mind. Ramona lived in Spanaway, WA, a
community not far from Mount Rainier.
She had long struggled with schizophrenia, a serious mental
health condition. That summer morning, Ramona
experienced a severe psychiatric crisis.
In a moment of despair, she attempted to end her life.
She cut her own throat with a sharp object before anyone could
stop her. Bleeding and likely in shock,
Ramona fled. At about 8:30 AM.
She left her sister's home, where she'd been staying in her
tan 1984 Jeep, and drove off. Despite her injury, her family
was alarmed and terrified for her safety.
Ramona, in a state of mental turmoil and with a serious
wound, was behind the wheel and heading who knows where.
The direction soon became clear. Ramona drove straight toward
Mount Rainier National Park, perhaps seeking solitude or an
escape in nature. The drive from Spanaway to the
parks Nisqually entrance is about an hour.
We can only imagine her state of mind on that drive, in pain,
bleeding, perhaps determined to reach the mountain she loved, or
perhaps not thinking clearly at all.
Sometime later that morning, Ramona entered Mount Rainier
National Park. But as if her day weren't
already harrowing enough, Ramona's Jeep got into an
accident inside the park. It appears to have been a single
car accident. She ran off the road into a
ditch. The Jeep was stuck and Ramona,
wounded and alone, had to seek help.
She managed to get a tow truck to pull her vehicle back onto
the road. It's unclear if Park Rangers
assisted or if a passerby did, but someone helped get Ramona's
Jeep out of the ditch. This incident suggests she was
still alive and moving about despite herself inflicted
injury. One can picture the scene, dense
evergreens all around, Ramona clutching her throat, perhaps
while a tow truck winches her Jeep out of mud.
A surreal and tragic sight. After her Jeep was freed, Ramona
kept driving deeper into the park.
She headed farther in toward the mountains interior.
By the afternoon of July 18th, 1995, her tan Jeep was spotted
again under far more disturbing circumstances.
Around 5:00 PM on July 18th, park visitors and Rangers found
Ramona's Jeep abandoned outside a public restroom in the park.
The location was likely near 1 of the trail heads or picnic
areas where restrooms are available, possibly Longmire or
Paradise area. The Jeep's engine was still
running, the driver's door was left wide open, and inside the
vehicle was a gruesome scene. A significant amount of blood
smeared across the interior. Those who discovered the Jeep
must have felt a chill. A car left idling with no one
around is alarming enough. Add in a blood soaked front seat
and it becomes the stuff of nightmares.
Rangers immediately recognize that this was Ramona's vehicle.
It matched alerts that had been put out after her family likely
reported her missing and I'll the blood was presumably from
the neck wound she had inflicted upon herself earlier that day.
The fact that she'd bled so much and still managed to drive was
astounding and deeply worrisome. Park authorities sprang into
action. They searched the area around
the restroom and along nearby trails for any sign of Ramona.
Sure enough, witnesses soon came forward saying they had seen a
woman matching Ramona's description on a trail earlier.
Despite her injury, Ramona had apparently left her Jeep and
wandered into the woods on foot. One can only imagine her
condition, likely light headed from blood loss, adrenaline
keeping her going, perhaps singularly focused on
disappearing into the wilderness.
This was a dire situation, a severely injured person lost in
mountainous terrain. Search and rescue teams
mobilized quickly. Extensive searches were
conducted over the following days.
Park Rangers, volunteers and dog teams combed the trails,
branching out from where the Jeep was found.
They scoured the thick underbrush, mossy Groves and
rocky outcrops. Given Ramona's state, she might
not have made it far, but shock and determination can carry a
person surprising distances. The searchers had to assume she
was still alive and in need of immediate medical aid, or that
her remains were nearby if she had succumbed.
Every ravine and thicket became a potential hiding spot.
Despite an all out effort, no trace of Ramona Faye was ever
found. It was as if she had bled out
her troubles into that Jeep and then vanished into thin air in
the Mount Rainier wilderness. Not a single article of
clothing, nor her body, nor any other evidence turned up.
The search eventually had to be called off when all leads were
exhausted. Authorities concluded that given
her grievous wound and the amount of blood lost, Ramona
likely did not survive for long in the wilderness.
Yet, perplexingly, her body remained missing.
Investigators pieced together what they could.
Ramona's mental health struggle was well documented.
She had paranoid schizophrenia, which can cause disordered
thinking and hallucinations. She was also in a state of
emotional crisis that day. The fact that she drove to Mount
Rainier after harming herself suggests that the mountain held
some deep significance for her. Perhaps she sought a final
communion with nature before ending her life, or she intended
to hide where no one could stop her pain.
We may never know. The evidence strongly indicates
Ramona was intent on unaliving that day.
Some have theorized that after abandoning her Jeep, Ramona
might have found a secluded spot in the woods to lay down and
die, or even potentially ended her life by another act, for
instance, using a secondary method, if the first attempt
hadn't been immediately fatal. The absence of her body might be
explained by predation or the environment.
In a forest, a deceased person can be quickly obscured.
Scavengers and the elements can scatter remain surprisingly
fast. This was sadly hinted at in
Ramona's case. From the get go, blood in the
Jeep indicated she was gravely wounded, so she may have
collapsed not far from it. And over time, natural processes
concealed her. Mountain lions, bears or even
smaller scavengers like coyotes could account for why not a
trace was left, especially if weeks or months passed before a
thorough search of a particular spot.
Another angle is the location of the Jeep.
Parked by a restroom implies a popular spot, but in July 1995,
midweek perhaps, it wasn't crowded.
If Ramona had wandered a short distance off a trail, dense
brush could easily hide her from view.
Searches are like looking for a needle in a haystack.
If the initial search grid missed her by even 100 yards,
she might never be found. For Ramona's family, the outcome
was heart wrenching. They had feared she would harm
herself, and those fears were realized in the most unsettling
way. They at least have some
understanding of her state of mind and intentions, which might
provide a small measure of closure.
But without her body, there's always that agonizing sliver of
uncertainty. Authorities have listed Ramona
as presumed deceased given the circumstances, but officially,
she remains a missing person. Ramona Fey's disappearance is a
stark reminder of the complex interplay between mental health
crises and wilderness. In her distress, she turned to
Mount Rainier's vastness as a final refuge.
The Mountain, indifferent to human suffering, offered
countless hiding places and ultimately kept Ramona's
secrets. Decades later, hikers in that
area likely have no idea that somewhere under the ferns or in
a hollow by a Creek, the last traces of a woman's life might
lie quietly returning to the earth.
The image left in the minds of those who knew the case is
indelible, a blood streaked Jeep idling emptily in the shadows of
giant cedar trees, and beyond it, an impenetrable forest that
refuses to give up the truth of what became of Ramona Faye.
Her story illustrates that not all who go missing in national
parks are lost due to navigation errors or accidents.
Some, like Ramona, walk into the wild with the intent to never
walk out, leaving behind a mystery that may never be fully
solved. Our first two cases have been
tragedies with likely, if unconfirmed, endings.
But our next story takes an even stranger turn.
It's not an apparent accident. It involves a park employee, a
beloved mother and colleague who vanished from right under the
noses of her friends. And when she was finally found,
the cause of her death was an enigma.
The year was 1996, and the disappearance of Sheila Kearns
would leave Mount Rainier staff shaken to their core.
Case 3. Murder at Longmire.
Sheila Kearns 1996 In the summer of 1996, Sheila Kathleen Kearns
arrived at Mount Rainier National Park to work at the
historic Paradise Inn. Sheila was 43 years old, and she
quickly became a cherished member of the seasonal staff.
Colleagues later recalled that she was beautiful, kind, and
incredibly careful in everything she did.
Originally from New York, Sheila loved the outdoors and relished
her job serving park visitors in the Inn's rustic halls.
By all accounts, she was excellent at her work, so much
so that when the summer season ended, the park hired her on to
the winter crew to keep operations running in the
offseason. This was a special opportunity
as most staff depart when Paradise Inn closes each fall.
As autumn arrived, Paradise Inn closed to the public on October
1st, 1996 for the season. The summer crowds dwindled and
only a skeleton crew of park employees remained to maintain
facilities over winter. Sheila was one of them.
She moved into employee housing near Longmire, a lower elevation
area of the park that remains accessible year round.
This housing was actually near the old Longmire Campground, a
community of cabins and a community building used by staff
for gatherings. The vibe was close knit,
everyone knew each other. On the evening of October 4th,
1996, the park staff held a farewell dinner at Longmire for
the seasonal employees who were leaving and to celebrate those
like Sheila who would stay on. It was a cheerful gathering.
Sheila was seen enjoying the evening, presumably excited and
a bit nervous for the quiet winter months ahead.
When the dinner concluded, people drifted back to their
quarters. Sheila returned to her cabin at
Longmire Campground. She likely went to bed or
perhaps stayed up to organize her new lodgings.
That was the last time anyone saw her alive.
The very next day, Sheila missed a morning shift or perhaps just
didn't show up around the community as expected.
This was immediately unusual because Sheila was, as noted,
incredibly responsible and careful.
Co workers checked her cabin only to find it empty.
Her belongings were there, but Sheila herself was nowhere to be
found. Park Rangers were alerted that
one of their own had possibly gone missing on park grounds.
A search was launched almost at once.
At first, people hoped Sheila had just taken an early walk or
drive and lost track of time. But as hours passed with no sign
of her, that hope faded. Searchers combed the Longmire
area, calling out for Sheila in the Evergreen Groves around the
housing area. This wasn't deep wilderness.
Longmire is a developed district with roads, buildings and short
trails. If she had gotten lost or
injured nearby, surely she would be found quickly or she could
call out for help. But the search turned up nothing
that day, or the next, or the next.
It was as if Sheila had stepped out of her cabin and simply
evaporated into the crisp autumn air of Mount Rainier.
Friends and Co workers were distraught and perplexed.
Sheila's disappearance hit the tight knit Park Community hard.
They trusted the mountain and each other, and now one of their
own was gone under mysterious circumstances.
Rumors and theories swirled like the fall leaves.
Could Sheila have been in an accident?
Perhaps she went on a short hike or down to the Nisqually River
and fell. But Sheila wasn't known for
taking unnecessary risks. Remember, she was incredibly
careful. The more chilling possibility
was that something or someone had harmed her.
As days turned to weeks with no trace of Sheila, foul play
became a lurking suspicion. The fact that she vanished from
within a residential area of the park was alarming.
If this were a crime, who could the perpetrator be?
A stranger wandering the park? Another employee?
It was unthinkable, yet nothing was off the table.
The case was especially complex because it happened on federal
land, giving jurisdiction to the FBI.
The Seattle FBI field office joined forces with Park Rangers
to investigate Sheila's disappearance.
The winter of 1996 and 97 was a tense and sorrowful one.
At Mount Rainier, snow buried the meadows of Paradise and the
cabins of Longmire, covering any clues that might have been left
behind. 7 long months passed with no answers.
Then, as spring arrived in the snow banks began to recede.
The mountain revealed A grim secret.
In late May 1997, near the Longmere Community building, a
park maintenance worker stumbled on something on the forest
floor. Human remains.
They were scattered, as if disturbed by animals, and had
clearly been there for some time.
The location was not far from the employee housing where
Sheila had lived, essentially in the same general area.
Rangers rushed to the scene and soon the remains were
tentatively identified. It was Sheila Kearns, the woman
who had vanished in October, was finally found, tragically still
within the parks embrace. This discovery answered one
question where Sheila ended up, but it raised 100 more.
Because of the condition of the remains, the cause of Sheila's
death could not be determined. Animal activity had disturbed
the site, scattering bones over a patch of ground.
It was impossible to tell if animals had merely scavenged
after death, or if perhaps an animal attack was the cause of
death in the first place. There were no obvious signs of
something like a gunshot or stabbing, at least none reported
publicly. Pathologists and investigators
were essentially left without a clear answer.
Was this a homicide, an accident, or even some medical
issue? Let's consider the
possibilities. 1 theory was an animal attack.
Mount Rainier is home to black bears and mountain lions.
A solitary person walking at dusk or at night could
conceivably be stalked by a Mountain Lion.
If a cougar attacked Sheila near Longmire, it could potentially
kill her and drag her a short distance into the woods.
Cougars often cover their kills with leaves and debris to save
for later. Over winter, the body could then
become scattered by scavengers. This is possible, but those who
knew Sheila felt it was unlikely.
For one, cougar attacks on humans are exceedingly rare, and
none had been reported in that area.
Also, Sheila was found near a building, not deep in the
Backcountry. Large predators tend to avoid
human developed areas. Still, it couldn't be entirely
ruled out without evidence. Another, more sinister theory.
Sheila was murdered by a human. Perhaps someone at that farewell
dinner or in the park had I'll intentions.
If Sheila walked outside after the party and met the wrong
person, something terrible could have happened.
A criminal might have overpowered her and left her
body in the woods, assuming it would be hidden by snowfall and
destroyed by animals. This theory gained some traction
because the idea of Sheila getting lost or accidentally
dying so close to home seemed implausible to friends.
They described her as street smart and cautious.
Murder would also explain why no one heard from her.
An attacker could have incapacitated her quickly.
However, supporting evidence for murder was thin.
Investigators did not publicly announce any signs of foul play,
such as bullet casings, weapons or suspicious DNA at the scene.
The remains had been out in the open for months, which would
have degraded a lot of evidence. If a murder.
It's quite possible the clues were literally eaten or washed
away. The FBI did conduct interviews.
Notably, a local journalist named Dixie Walter from the
Eatonville Dispatch took a special interest in the case and
spoke with many who knew Sheila over the years.
No suspect has ever been publicly identified.
This does not mean foul play didn't happen.
It simply means there wasn't enough evidence to charge
anyone. As of today, Sheila Kearns's
case remains unsolved and classified as an unsolved
homicide. By many accounts, 1/3 scenario,
albeit less discussed, is some kind of medical emergency or
misadventure. What if Sheila stepped out to
stargaze or get something from another cabin and suffered a
heart attack or stroke, collapsing where no one saw her?
Or could she have slipped, hit her head and succumbed to the
elements? Early October nights can be
cold, but not usually fatal unless one is incapacitated.
If she did collapse and die naturally, animals could have
later moved her remains. This scenario leaves a lot to
chance and doesn't quite align with how thoroughly people
searched immediately after. You'd think they might have
found her if she was just yards away from housing, yet it is
technically possible that initial searchers just missed
her, especially if her body was concealed or blended in with
foliage. The lack of closure gnawed at
everyone. The park staff had to resume
work and greet summer visitors in 1997, knowing a disturbing
truth. One of their colleagues had died
under mysterious circumstances on park grounds, and a killer,
whether human or animal, might still be at large.
It cast a pall over the usually cheerful camaraderie of seasonal
workers. Many of Sheila's friends have
kept her memory alive, refusing to let the case fade.
Local news in Washington, like KING5's Unsolved Northwest
series, revisited Sheila's story decades later, hoping to jog
loose new clues. They noted how unusual it was a
park employee vanishing, literally in the park's front
yard. In these retrospectives,
Sheila's Co workers remembered her fondly.
The warm, responsible New Yorker who found joy under Rainier's
shadow. Some expressed frustration that
the investigation didn't yield answers.
The FB is involvement means many details remain confidential.
Was there a suspect they quietly cleared?
Did any witness see or hear something odd that night?
Publicly, it's a void. So what do we have?
Sheila Kearns went missing on October 4th, 1996 after a staff
gathering. Her remains were found May 1997
near her living area with no determined cause of death.
She may have been a victim of an animal attack or a homicide, or
a freak accident, and we have no proof of which.
This lingering uncertainty means her story, while technically not
a missing person anymore since she was found, is far from
solved. In the annals of Mount Rainier,
Sheila's death is one of its creepiest unsolved mysteries, A
whodunit, or what Doon it with no answer for the viewers
imaginations. Picture a peaceful October night
in Longmire. Dim porch lights glowing, the
immense mountain looming as a darker shadow against a starry
sky. A light drizzle begins to fall
inside 1 Cabin. A light is still on Sheila's as
she unpacks for winter. She steps out into the cool air,
perhaps to go to the community building or just to stretch her
legs. She disappears into the night,
and somewhere between her cabin and that community building,
something deadly crosses her path.
No screams were heard. The woods stayed silent.
By morning, only unanswered questions remained.
To this day, when park workers walk those grounds, some say
they think of Sheila. It's hard not to, knowing that
even amid colleagues in buildings, danger found her.
Mount Rainier, for all its well travelled paths, still had a
dark side that struck close to home.
Sheila Kearns's story reminds us that mysteries aren't confined
to remote peaks. They can unfold right in our
backyard, under the glow of our porch light.
Our next case takes us out of the 1990s and into 1999, a time
just before the new Millennium when technology was improving
but still limited in the wild. It's the tale of a prominent
journalist from New York who came to Mount Rainier for a day
hike and stepped into oblivion. Unlike the others we've heard,
this missing person had dozens of friends searching, national
media attention and even questions asked by the White
House. Yet he vanished just as
completely. Prepare for the perplexing
disappearance of Joe Wood. Case for the journalist who
never returned. Joe Wood Junior 1999 Joseph Joe
Wood Junior was not the kind of person you'd expect to go
missing on a hike. He was 34 years old, an
accomplished writer and book editor from New York City, with
an Ivy League education and a vibrant network of friends.
In July 1999, Joe travelled to Seattle to attend Unity 99, a
national journalism conference for writers of color.
He was excited. It was a gathering of thousands
of talented people, and Joe himself was a rising star in the
literary world. He'd worked at the Village Voice
and was now editing books for the New Press, as well as
writing a book about the African American family.
On July 8th, 1999, midway through the conference, Joe
decided to play hooky for a day and experience the natural
beauty of Washington. He rented a car and drove about
2 1/2 hours South to Mount Rainier National Park.
He was a city guy, but no novice to the outdoors.
Joe was an Eagle Scout and an avid bird watcher who always
carried binoculars and a bird guide.
He'd even done some hikes before, though mostly on the
East Coast. It was a sunny, gorgeous
Thursday, perfect for a day hike.
Joe wore AT shirt shorts and carried a light pack.
He told only one casual acquaintance at the conference
where he was going just a quick day hike at Rainier.
In hindsight, that lack of detailed notice would prove
critical. Joe arrived at Rainier's
entrance around 12:30. PMA park entry receipt later
confirmed the time. He drove to the Longmere area
and parked at the trailhead for Comet Falls, one of the parks
popular waterfall hikes. The trail to Comet Falls is
about 3.8 miles round trip, moderately steep, leading to a
spectacular 320 foot waterfall. It continues beyond the falls
toward a high country area called Van Trump Park and
eventually Mildred Point. Joe likely planned a few hours
of hiking and bird watching, then intended to head back to
Seattle by evening. Hiking up, Joe met another solo
hiker, Bruce Gomond. They chatted briefly on the
trail. Bruce later recalled seeing Joe,
a black man in his 30s with round glasses and a field guide
in hand, as they both ascended toward Comet Falls at around the
3.3 mile mark. Near the falls, Bruce decided to
turn back due to snow on the ground at that higher elevation.
It was July, but patches of snow still lingered in the high
shaded areas. Joe, however, was keen to
continue. He was presumably enthralled by
the scenery, perhaps aiming to reach Mildred Point, which
offers a stunning view. Bruce saw Joe press on into the
wilderness above Comet Falls, and then Bruce himself headed
back down. That is the last confirmed
sighting of Joe Wood. He was never seen again, one
article starkly noted. Those 7 words encapsulate the
shock that was to come when Joe did not return to the Unity
Conference that evening. His friends noticed his absence
but were not immediately panicked.
Joe was adventurous. Maybe he stayed longer in the
park or got back late, but the days that followed raised
alarms. He missed his flight back to New
York on July 11th. That was completely out of
character by July 12th. His close friend and
ex-girlfriend Salmani Sengupta, a New York Times reporter who
was also at the conference, became very alarmed.
She began calling everyone she could, hospitals, police, park
officials to report Joe missing. On July 13th, a missing person
report was officially filed in Seattle.
The next day, July 14th, Park Rangers located Joe's rental car
still parked at Longmire, untouched for days.
A full scale search and rescue operation was launched almost
immediately. Now picture the urgency.
Joe had been missing for nearly a week in the wilderness by the
time searchers began looking. It was a warm summer, but nights
can get cold up high and Joe had only light hiking clothes for a
day trip. The search teams felt the clock
ticking loudly. Park Rangers, mountain rescue
volunteers, dog teams, and helicopters all converged on the
southwest slopes of Rainier. They scoured the Van Trump Creek
drainage, the snow fields around Comet Falls, and the dense
forest below, leaving no stone unturned.
On the morning of July 15th, searchers got their first and
only big break. Bruce Goemon saw a newspaper
story about Joe's disappearance and realized he'd met the
missing man. Bruce contacted the park and
told them he last saw Joe near Comet Falls, continuing upward
into snow. This crucial info helped focus
the search on the right area, the rugged terrain above 4800
feet. Search teams fanned out over the
ridges and ravines where Joe might have gone.
They combed through Creek gullies, probed snow banks with
poles and scanned from the air. Joe was a relatively fit hiker,
but not a Mountaineer, so they hoped he hadn't strayed too far
off trail. However, that area beyond Comet
Falls can be treacherous. Steep slopes, hidden drop offs
and snow covered voids beneath can trick even experienced
hikers. Rescuers knew if Joe had slipped
into a concealed Canyon or hole, he might be nearly impossible to
spot. They pressed on diligently.
Day after day, the search continued.
By July 16th, the weather turned on them.
Rain and chilly fog rolled in. The once clear mountain was now
obscured by clouds, hampering helicopter flights and soaking
ground teams. Morale dipped.
Searchers knew that if Joe was injured and exposed, this
weather would worsen his chances of survival.
Still, they persevered. On July 17th, Joe's parents and
sister flew out from New York and went up to Mount Rainier.
It had now been 9 days since he disappeared.
In candid meetings, the search leaders gently told the family
that hope was fading. Surviving that long without
shelter or supplies in such terrain was highly unlikely.
However, the search crews weren't ready to quit just yet.
Perhaps spurred by the family's presence and a break in weather,
officials extended the search an extra day on July 18th.
They went at it one more time with everything they had.
Boots on the ground, dogs sniffing, helicopters peering
down at receding snow. But no evidence of Joe was
found. Nothing.
Not a footprint, not a scrap of clothing, not his distinctive
binoculars. It was as if he had stepped off
the trail and been swallowed by the volcano's ancient crater.
Though he wasn't that high up, the metaphor felt apartment to
searchers who found 0 clues that evening, Sunday, July 18th,
1999. The painful decision was made to
scale back the search. In an emotional meeting with
Joe's family and friends, Rangers explained their
reasoning. By their analysis, Joe likely
suffered A catastrophic accident in the wilderness.
If he were mobile, he would have likely found a way out or
encountered searchers. If he were immobile, injured,
they should have found some trace of him after so many days
of intense searching. The harsh terrain, they said,
gives little leeway for mistakes.
Without sufficient clothing and food, hypothermia was
inevitable, they explained. Especially after the rain and
cold, the mountains verdict seemed final.
The reaction in that room was one of profound grief and
reluctance. Joe's father talked about
dealing with reality, bracing himself for the worst.
Somini Sengupta, Joe's friend, did something quietly poignant.
She hiked up to the spot where Joe was last seen and buried an
earring and a ring in the soil so Joe would not be alone.
It was as if to mark a memorial on the mountain for him, a token
of love left behind under those towering furs where he vanished.
Many wept. Yet even as they faced reality,
lingering questions gnawed at everyone.
Joe was experienced enough to know basic trail safety.
How did he simply disappear on a day hike in good weather?
Some friends could not shake the idea of foul play.
What if Wood had been abducted? Could it have been murder, they
wondered in hushed conversations.
Perhaps a stranger encountered Joe on the trail.
The park is generally safe, and there were no reports of
suspicious individuals. Rangers responded to these
theories by noting that a struggle on the mountain would
have left signs, footprints, broken foliage or sense for the
search dogs. They found none.
All evidence, or lack thereof, pointed toward an accident of
nature. Indeed, as Rangers somberly
pointed out, Mount Rainier is perilous even for day hikers.
In fact, two other men had gone missing on Rainier in the two
months before Joe's disappearance.
Those cases were separate incidents, mountain
misadventures that also ended tragically.
Joe's story fit a pattern the park sadly knew too well.
One misstep near a roaring waterfall, one slide on a snow
bank into a concealed Canyon and you can vanish beyond reach.
The plan was to resume some searching after snow melt.
Rangers will send a helicopter and dog teams back up when the
snow melts, promised park officials.
Joe's mother said we're going to wait to see, clinging to a
thread of hope. But summer came and went and no
trace ever surfaced. Not that year, not in the
decades since. Joe Woods disappearance
resonated far beyond the park. National media covered the story
because he was a well known journalist.
The timing coincided with another headline grabbing event,
the disappearance of John F Kennedy Junior's plane in the
Atlantic just a day after Joe went missing.
The nation was captivated by JFK Junior search, which perhaps
overshadowed Joe's a bit. But among black intellectual
circles and Joe's communities, his story was front and center.
There was an outpouring of concern.
How could such a bright light be snuffed out so mysteriously?
Friends from New York hired a private investigator, a former
NYPD detective, to double check everything, not fully trusting
that an accident was all there was to it.
This detective retraced Joe's steps, interviewed locals, and
examined possible foul play angles, but apparently found
nothing inconsistent with the official account.
Over time, Joe Woods case has become almost legend.
Writers penned articles and even poems in his memory, grappling
with the sudden void he left. A friend, the poet Cornelius ID,
wrote of Joe and the Mountain, underscoring how unbelievable it
felt that someone so full of life could just be gone.
Another friend, Adolph Reed, articulated the emotional
Riddle. I find myself both straining to
accept that Joe is gone and feeling that to accept that is
an act of betrayal, he said. It's a sentiment anyone who's
lost someone to an unresolved disappearance can understand.
That unwillingness to give up, as if hope were a tether keeping
your loved one's memory alive. The mountain hasn't given up,
Joe. Perhaps somewhere in a hidden
crevice or under thick brush along Van Trump Creek, a piece
of his story remains. A bit of fabric, a bone waiting
for the right moment to be discovered by a stray hiker or a
receding glacier. Or maybe not.
Maybe Rainier will hold this secret forever.
More than 425 fatalities have occurred on Mount Rainier since
1897. Climbing accidents, drownings,
plane crashes. But nearly all of those bodies
were eventually recovered. Joe stands among the rare few
who are truly gone. In fact, Joe Wood became the
65th person in the history of Mount Rainier National Park to
go missing without immediate resolution.
For those who loved Joe, every lush green image of Mount
Rainier carries a tinge of pain. Unity 99, the conference he
attended, went on but was palpably marred by his absence.
At that conference, ironically, Joe had stood up and asked a
bold question to a politician, showing his fearless journalism.
He was never afraid to speak truth, yet in the end, he left
behind only silence in the mountains.
How can a man go on a casual hike on a warm, cloudless day
and never returned? It's a question without a good
answer, one that echoes whenever we set foot on an inviting trail
without realizing it might be our last.
Joe Woods story remains one of Mount Rainier's most haunting
unanswered questions. It reminds us that even a safe
day hike can turn deadly with one stroke of bad luck, and that
closure is a gift not all families receive from the sultry
days of 99. We moved to a cold morning in
2010, a story set not in lush forests but on an icy Alpine
slope near Mount Rainier's summit.
This next disappearance happens in the thin air of 14,000 feet,
where a climber's single fateful decision led him to vanish
before his team mates. Very eyes.
Strap on your crampons. We're heading up the mountain
with Eric Lewis. Case 5 The Vanishing Climber
Eric Lewis 2010 In the pre dawn darkness of July 1st 2010, three
climbers and neon parkas inched their way up Mount Rainier's icy
flank. Among them was Eric Lewis, a 57
year old experienced climber from Duvall, WA.
Eric was an outdoorsman at heart.
He'd summited Rainier before and knew its dangers.
On this expedition he was attempting the Gibraltar Ledges
Route, a challenging path to the summit that skirts the massive
rock promontory of Gibraltar Rock and ascends near the
precarious Nisqually Glacier. His climbing partners were two
men in their 20s, Don Storm Junior and Trevor Lane.
Eric was the eldest and arguably the most experienced,
essentially leading their unguided climb.
They set out from Camp Muir, the 10,000 foot base camp, in the
middle of the night, roped together for safety.
All three wore harnesses attached to the same line, with
roughly 30 feet of rope between each of them.
Eric was last on the rope, Trevor in the middle.
Dawn in front. As dawn approached, they had
made solid progress. They were around 13,900 feet,
tantalizingly close to the 14,411 foot summit.
But as often happens on Rainier, the weather was turning ugly
fast. High on the mountain, the trio
encountered ferocious winds and swirling clouds.
Visibility plummeted. Each man had to brace against 50
plus mph gusts threatening to pluck them off the ridgeline.
Don, in the lead, decided to stop to reassess.
Trevor caught up to him and they huddled near a rocky section,
probably shouting to hear each other over the wind.
They expected Eric to be coming up right behind on the rope, but
as they waited, something felt off.
The rope from Trevor, trailing down to Eric, suddenly went
slack or lighter than expected. Concerned, Don and Trevor began
reeling in the rope to see what was happening with Eric.
To their alarm, when they pulled the rope up, it came back with
no Eric attached, only a tied loop, a butterfly knot at the
end. Eric was gone.
Sometime in those moments of low visibility, he had unclipped his
harness from the rope and disappeared into the storm.
Don and Trevor were stunned. Just moments before they had
caught glimpses of Eric behind them through the fog, and then
nothing. Unclipping on a dangerous slope
in a whiteout defied logic. Why would Eric do that?
The two climbers immediately feared the worst.
Maybe he fell and the ropes tug on them had caused it to break
or come loose. Or maybe he deliberately
detached. But why?
Heart pounding, Don peered down slope and shouted Eric's name.
They frantically searched the slope below, thinking Eric might
have slipped and was perhaps sliding or had self arrested
somewhere invisible in the cloud.
Seeing no trace, they made a quick decision, believing Eric
could have somehow moved above them, though that seemed
unlikely. They climbed up to the summit
Ridge to see if he had gone that way.
At the top, the storm was raging and Eric was not there either.
With dread settling in, Don and Trevor realized they needed
help. They carefully turned back and
descended to Camp Muir as fast as they safely could.
By late afternoon on July 1st, they reached the camp and
immediately reported the incident to climbing Rangers.
The search for Eric Lewis began before nightfall.
Climbing Ranger Tom Payne and two guides sprang into action,
heading up slope swiftly from Camp Muir that same evening to
check the summit area for Eric. They reached the summit by 8:00
PM, scanning and calling out in fading light.
Nothing. They pushed themselves, risking
the same bad weather, but saw no sign of Eric or any disturbance
in the snow that might indicate a fall.
By 10:00 PM they had to return to Camp Muir empty handed.
By the next morning, July 2nd, a full scale search was under way.
This was a big deal. Eric's disappearance at such
altitude triggered one of the most extensive searches on
Rainier in recent memory. Over 40 people were involved.
Elite Mountaineers, National Park Service climbing Rangers
and professional guides from Rainier Mountaineering, Alpine
Ascents and IMG all joined in. They scoured the upper mountain
in coordinated teams despite the lingering harsh weather.
The Army lent a Chinook Chapter 47 helicopter from Fort Lewis,
which buzzed the mountains flanks looking for any trace of
a climber on the snow. A smaller contracted helicopter
also zigzagged low over crevasses and cliffs.
Mid morning on July 2nd, searchers hit on a crucial clue.
At about 13,600 feet, they found Eric's backpack.
It was lying on a steep slope, partially wedged in the snow.
Inside it contained his climbing harness, a snow shovel and full
water bottles that had frozen solid.
Strangely, the pack was left behind with gear that could be
useful. This suggested Eric had
deliberately dropped his pack at some point.
Not far above the pack, roughly 200 vertical feet up, searchers
found a small snow cave Eric had dug.
It looked like an emergency shelter scratched into the Lee
of a slope, maybe a place he hunkered down for a time.
These findings were eerie. They indicated Eric was alive
after separating from his team, trying to survive.
The search teams redoubled their efforts, focusing on this zone
around Gibraltar Ledges and the adjacent Nisqually and Ingraham
glaciers. One team painstakingly searched
the entire Gibraltar Ledges route and the glacier edges.
Another team searched the summit crater steam caves.
People in emergencies have taken shelter in Rainiers volcanic
steam vents before. Yet another team came from the
opposite side, climbing up from the Emmons Glacier route to join
the hunt, ensuring no area was missed.
They probed crevasses and snow fields, looking for any hint of
Eric. A boot protruding a piece of
clothing, blood on ice. Nothing else turned up on day 2
beyond the pack and cave. Day three of the search saw
similarly massive efforts. Ground teams skied and climbed
all over the upper mountain. They shifted focus slightly to
areas below where the pack was found, considering the
possibility that Eric might have tried descending on his own and
fallen somewhere on the Nisqually Glacier side.
Rangers dropped into the gaping Nisqually Icefall area,
exploring crevasses that yawn like 100 foot deep blue gashes
in the ice. They even entered the
Bergstrund, a huge crevasse at the head of a glacier under a
route called Gibraltar. Shoot.
If Eric had tumbled into any of these, finding him would be
extremely difficult. After yet another grueling day,
no additional clues were found on July 3rd.
By this point, over 72 hours had passed since Eric's
disappearance. The search leaders face the grim
reality. Given the very cold, very windy
conditions on July 1st and two, and the fact Eric apparently had
no tent, no sleeping bag and had even shed his pack, surviving
even one night out there would have been miraculous.
They had effectively scoured every feasible area around his
last known location. The incoming weather forecast
was poor. Again.
Another front bringing precipitation and high winds was
due, which would curtail any further flights or safe ground
searching. With heavy hearts, the search
operation was scaled back and eventually suspended.
Eric Lewis was never found. To this day, 15 years later, his
body remains somewhere on Mount Rainier slopes, unrecovered.
His disappearance is considered one of Rainier's unsolved
mysteries, though unlike some others, there is little doubt
that nature was the culprit. The official report from
Accidents in North American Climbing provides A thoughtful
analysis of what likely happened.
Eric's decision to unclip from the rope in severe weather was
the critical event. Why did he do it?
We can't ask him, but the report speculates possible reasons.
Maybe Eric felt he was slowing the younger climbers down and
chose to free them of himself. Maybe he needed to step aside to
address a personal issue like tangled gear or an urgent call
of nature, and thought he'd clip back in shortly.
Or perhaps he experienced a mental lapse due to hypothermia
or altitude illness. Hypothermia can cause
paradoxical behavior. People do irrational things like
shedding gear or wandering away. Altitude can cloud judgement,
too. Whatever the cause, Eric
unclipped and shortly thereafter likely became lost and separated
in the whiteout. Given he dug a snow cave, he
realized he was in trouble and tried to survive.
Perhaps during a break in the storm, he decided to leave The
Cave and descend. The discovery of his pack
suggests he may have been attempting a desperate,
unencumbered descent, fast and light as the analysis put it,
noting that he had left vital survival gear behind.
Sadly, ditching the pack meant he had even fewer resources to
survive. At some point Eric probably
fell, maybe through a cornice or into a crevasse somewhere off
the side of Gibraltar ledges or on the glacier below.
The fact that full water bottles in his pack were frozen solid
indicates sub freezing conditions up there.
Eric endured extreme cold for hours.
The small snow cave shows he had the wits to shelter himself for
at least a short time, but with no sleeping bag in ferocious
winds, even the hardiest climber would eventually succumb to
hypothermia. The analysis concluded that
while the weather was the main factor, the true reasons for
Eric's actions will probably never be known.
Indeed, Eric Lewis essentially walked off the rope and into
legend. Fellow climbers still talk about
this case. It's chilling because it was
witnessed. His partners literally felt the
rope go slack and realized in that gut wrenching moment that
their friend was gone. 1 moment he was there, the next he
wasn't. In mountaineering circles it's
often said the mountains don't read your resume.
You can be skilled, prepared and smart, and still one strange
decision or stroke of bad luck can end you in subsequent years.
Climbers on Rainier's upper slopes sometimes keep an eye out
for any sign of Eric. Glaciers move and melt what's
buried. One year can surface much later,
perhaps 1 summer. A rope team will peer down a
deep crevasse on the Nisqually Glacier and spot a flash of neon
fabric or a bone, solving the mystery at last.
Stranger recoveries have happened on mountains after many
years, but as of now, nothing has been found.
For Eric's family, the lack of a body means no closure.
They must accept the mountain as his grave friends.
Imagine his final moments, the wind screaming, snow slicing at
his face. Maybe a mix of fear and resolve
in his heart. Perhaps when he stepped out of
that rope, he intended to make things easier for his team
mates. Or maybe he was just
disoriented. It's tragic either way.
This story underscores a key theme in all these cases, the
unpredictability of human decisions in life and death,
wilderness situations. Eric Lewis knew the rules.
Stay roped up, stay with your team.
Yet in that critical instant, he broke them and it cost him
everything. His disappearance, like the
others, became a haunting reminder of the parks dual
nature, a place of striking beauty and potentially deadly
dangers. Now for our 6th and final case,
we turn to one of the more recent mysteries on Mount
Rainier. In 2020, amid a global pandemic
and modern technology at our fingertips, you'd think
disappearing would be harder than ever.
But as we'll see, even cell phones, social media alerts, and
extensive search and rescue coordination couldn't prevent a
highly skilled young hiker from vanishing without a trace.
This is the story of Doctor Sam Duval, the professor who went
for a weekend hike and never came back.
K6 Vanished on the Loop Sam Dubal 2020 Doctor Sam Barat
Dubal was, by all accounts an extraordinary individual.
At 33 years old, Sam had already earned an MD from Harvard
Medical School and APHD in anthropology from UC Berkeley in
the fall of 2020. He had just started his dream
job as an assistant professor of anthropology at the University
of Washington in Seattle. Sam was brilliant, compassionate
and adventurous, a scholar who studied healing in conflict
zones, and a nature lover who found solace on the trails.
His older sister, Dina, described him as a humble guy, a
lover of nature, and someone who seeks to find goodness in
everyone. He was also an avid hiker,
extremely fit and experienced, having trekked in the Himalayas
and elsewhere. Seattle, with Mount Rainier
looming on the horizon, was the perfect new home for his
passions. On Friday, October 9th, 2020,
Sam set out for an overnight solo hike in Mount Rainier
National Park. His plan was to hike the Mother
Mountain Loop, a roughly 17 mile loop trail in the northwest
corner of the park. This loop, starting and ending
at the Moeich Lake Trailhead, traverses around Mother Mountain
through dense forests, Alpine lakes, and sections of the
Wonderland Trail. It's challenging but not
considered extremely technical, something a hiker of Sam's
caliber could comfortably do in a day or two.
He packed all the necessary gear, a tent, sleeping bag, warm
clothing, rain gear, navigation tools, and plenty of food and
water. Importantly, he also carried a
cell phone and charger. Sam was well prepared for the
autumn weather, which can be unpredictable.
He told friends he expected to be back by Saturday, October
10th. When Saturday evening rolled
around and Sam hadn't returned, initial concern began to grow
among his family. By Monday, October 12th, with
still no word from him, Sam's family reported him missing to
park authorities. This sparked one of the largest
search efforts in Mount Rainier's recent history under
particularly challenging conditions.
And keep in mind, October 2020 was during the pandemic, which
already complicated logistics and resources.
The National Park Service mobilized quickly.
Within hours of the report, Rangers had located Sam's car at
the Mowich Lake Trailhead parking lot, confirming that he
was somewhere out there on the loop.
On October 12th and 13, quick response teams of Rangers
scoured the initial portions of the trail looking for any sign
of Sam. They found one clue.
Early on, a distinctive water bottle believed to belong to Sam
was discovered along the trail. It was a promising yet puzzling
find. Why was his water bottle
dropped? Did he lose it accidentally or
discarded to lighten his load? No one knew, but it at least
confirmed he had been on the trail.
By October 14th, the search swelled in size.
Dozens of mountain rescue volunteers from multiple
counties, search dogs, drones and helicopters from both the
NPS and the US Air Force joined the mission.
Over the next several days, up to 70 people at a time were
involved in ground searches. They faced rugged, remote
wilderness with dense forests, elevation 2000 to 5000 feet,
terrain that can hide a person very well.
The weather was not kind. Periodic inclement weather
rolled in, bringing fog and rain that grounded helicopters and
made searching slow and hazardous.
Still, the teams pressed on, determined Sam's family was very
proactive throughout. His sister Dina created a
petition urging the park to keep the search going beyond the
typical time frame, emphasizing how well equipped and capable
Sam was. Sam has with him overnight gear,
rain gear and snow gear, as well as a cell phone and a charger,
she wrote, insisting that her brother could still be alive if
injured, waiting for rescue. She also noted that Sam had
recently completed a hike even harder than this one and was in
top shape. In media interviews, Dina
implored searchers not to give up.
There is hope. Sam is fit.
We cannot abandoned him during this critical time, she said
passionately. And indeed, the park did not
abandon the effort quickly. For nearly two weeks, extensive
searching continued. They canvassed the entire 17
mile loop and many off trail areas, checking ridges, ravines
and campsites. They called out using loud
speakers. They looked for disturbed
foliage, footprints, anything. A flur forward-looking infrared
device was used via helicopter to detect body heat at night,
but nothing popped up. It was as if Sam had vanished
into the mist. During the search, Sam's story
grabbed national headlines. His students and colleagues at
UW were distraught. The university's Department of
Anthropology posted updates and hope filled messages.
Sam's family maintain hope for his safe return. 1 University
statement read out in the field. Search crews shared that hope
trudging through rain soaked understory day after day.
But hope alone can't move mountains.
By October 23rd, 2020, after 10 days of intensive search, the
heartbreaking decision was made to suspend full scale search
operations. Extensive search efforts have
not located Doctor Sam Dubal, the parks news release stated
solemnly. With winter storms arriving in
earnest, indeed, significant snowfall was imminent.
Continuing a massive ground search became too dangerous for
rescuers. Park officials expressed how
heavy this outcome was on everyone's hearts.
They vowed to keep the investigation open and to follow
up on any new leads or sightings and to resume searching in
better conditions if possible. Sam's family was devastated.
They weren't ready to quit. In media, they pleaded for the
search to resume whenever weather allowed.
Dina's petition garnered thousands of signatures, urging
the park and governor to allocate more resources for
longer. It was an agonizing balance.
Officials had already given extraordinary effort.
Yet for the family, it could never be enough.
Until Sam was found. The mystery of Sam Duval's
disappearance remains unsolved. What could have happened on that
loop trail? Here are some theories and
considerations. Accident The Mother Mountain
Loop has some steep sections and tricky stream crossings in
October. Leaves can be slippery, daylight
is shorter, and there may even be early snow at higher points.
Sam could have slipped and fallen down a slope or into a
hidden crevasse or Canyon. Perhaps a snow bridge collapsed
under him or he fell into a river.
If he fell badly, he could have been injured or knocked
unconscious in a spot hidden from the trail.
Searchers might have missed him if he was obscured by foliage or
in a deep ravine. The dropped water bottle might
hint he fell abruptly, jolting it loose, or that he was
fatigued, dehydrated, and maybe became disoriented.
Getting lost. Although Sam was experienced,
even great hikers can make navigation errors.
Maybe a section of trail was obscured.
If Sam took a wrong turn or tried a shortcut, he could have
ended up far off course. However, a loop trail reduces
that risk. Even if you go the wrong way,
you often reconnect eventually. Plus Sam had maps or GPS still.
If fog set in, he might have become turned around on an
unofficial path. Sudden medical issue.
It's rare given his fitness, but not impossible.
Could Sam have suffered a medical emergency like a heart
attack or severe allergic reaction?
If so, he might have collapsed beside the trail, but surely
searchers would have found him if he were near the trail and he
had no known health problems that anyone has reported.
Wildlife encounter. Mount Rainier has black bears
and mountain lions. Both typically avoid humans.
Cougar attacks, while extremely rare, can happen.
One scenario if a cougar attacked it might drag prey off.
Trail. Searchers did keep this in mind,
looking for drag marks or blood. None was reported and Sam being
a grown man is not a typical cougar target.
It's a low likelihood theory. Foul play always a question when
someone vanishes. Did another person harm him?
In October 2020, the park was relatively quiet due to both
season and COVID. Still, there were other hikers
around, but no evidence of foul play was found.
His car wasn't tampered with. His personal items weren't
strewn about. It's hard to completely rule
out, but there's no indication this is a criminal case.
The area is remote. Criminals aren't typically
lurking hours from civilization. Also, Sam was strong and aware
it would be difficult to overpower him without a struggle
that left traces. The most plausible explanation
leans toward an accident that left Sam in an unrecovered
location. Perhaps he ventured off trail
briefly and fell into an area covered by dense brush or into
one of the countless pits and gullies that dot the landscape.
By the time massive search efforts came, wind, rain, or
even an early snow could have obscured subtle signs.
October 10th through 11 did see some inclement weather that can
erase footprints and sent trails quickly.
It's worth noting Sam's cell phone never issued A distress
call. Perhaps he had no signal in that
area, Quite likely as parts of the loop have no reception.
Or if something sudden happened, he might not have had a chance
to use it. His phone's last known ping, if
any, hasn't been made public. As of now, Sam Duval is still
listed as a missing person. His family and friends have kept
his memory alive. They even established a memorial
award in his name in anthropology.
They refused to let people forget that he still hasn't been
found. Every so often, when hikers set
out on the Mother Mountain Loop, some carry Sam's story with
them, eyes open for any sign, a scrap of fabric, a piece of gear
that might provide closure. In an interview, Sam's sister
reflected on his character, saying he is a very fit and
skilled hiker with tremendous experience, including in the
Himalayas. She wasn't boasting, it was the
truth. That's what makes his
disappearance so hard to fathom. If someone like Sam can vanish
in Rainier's woods, it underscores that no amount of
skill can make one infallible against nature's Caprice.
Sam Duvall's case, occurring in the era of modern technology,
highlights that even today, with all our advances, nature can
still easily elude our attempts to conquer or even understand
it. Drones, helicopters and
satellites, none could find Sam. It's humbling and it leaves us
with an unsettled feeling. A well educated, caring young
professor went for a casual overnight hike in AUS National
Park and disappeared without a trace.
As we conclude his story, picture the scene that searchers
must have seen. Sam's tent, perhaps found still
packed in his bag. Wherever it lies, never set up.
The majestic ancient trees of Rainier standing silent guard
over secrets. They witnessed Autumn fog
drifting through valleys, concealing and revealing shapes
that may or may not be a missing man.
His story is still out there, somewhere in those woods,
waiting to be discovered. 6 people, 6 lives full of
adventures, dreams and loved ones, all intertwined with the
wild landscapes of Mount Rainier and all ending in unsolved
disappearances. We began with Elaine Robertson
in 1979, a young woman who walked into a rainy night and
was never seen again, leaving behind only questions and a
forlorn campsite. We followed Ramona Faye in 1995
whose desperate flight into the park left a blood stained
mystery that still chills anyone who hears it.
We delved into Sheila Kearns in 1996, a dedicated park employee
whose fate remains a Riddle of bones scattered near her home.
Her Co workers still wonder if it was a tragic animal attack or
something more sinister. We traced Joe Woods 1999 hike
into the pristine forest that somehow devoured him whole,
leaving a void in the literary world and a mountain of grief
for those left behind. We scaled the heights with Eric
Lewis in 2010, glimpsing how quickly a Mountaineers
confidence can turn to catastrophe, and a Blizzard one
moment tied to friends, the next vanished into the storm.
And we walked alongside Sam Duvall in 2020, marveling at how
a man so prepared and so loved could go missing on a simple
loop. Proving that even today, with
all our gear and know how nature can still humble us completely.
These stories span different eras, different ages, different
backgrounds, yet they are united by the terrain of Mount Rainier
and the enduring mystery of not knowing.
Families and friends of each missing person have had to live
with that gnawing uncertainty. Decades later, some still lay
tokens on the mountain, like Sengupta burying an earring for
Joe Wood so he would not be alone.
Gestures to cope with an absence that cannot be filled.
What do we take away from all this?
First, a profound respect for Mount Rainier's dual nature.
This mountain, also known by the indigenous name Tahoma, is
breathtaking beyond measure. Snow capped peaks, wildflower
meadows, cascading falls. But it is also, in the words of
one rider, perhaps the most dangerous mountain in America.
It lures us with beauty and then tests us with peril. 1 misstep,
one turn of weather, or one moment of bad luck can change
everything. The mysterious disappearances at
Mount Rainier National Park serve as a haunting reminder of
the parks dual nature, a place of striking beauty and
potentially deadly dangers. Second, these cases remind us of
the importance of preparedness and caution.
Many of our six did everything right and still met trouble.
For hikers and adventurers listening, the lesson is not
that you should never go, but rather always tell someone your
plan in detail. Carry the 10 essentials and then
some. Respect your limits and heed the
mountain signals. As one experienced NW traveler
put it, outsiders sometimes don't understand that when you
go up there, you're meeting nature.
You're going to meet its forces. The forces of nature are
powerful and indifferent. They don't bend to our schedules
or skill levels. Third, we're reminded how
agonizing and enduring the pain of uncertainty is for those left
behind. Each of these missing persons
had family and friends who spent weeks, months, even years
searching, speculating, hoping against hope.
Imagine the parents of a missing child in a campground, or the
siblings of a lost brother who combed through every rumor on
the Internet for a clue. The emotional toll is immense,
and yet many of them channel that pain into action.
Petitions, memorials, raising awareness.
The human spirit of not giving up on our loved ones is perhaps
the one light in these dark stories.
Finally, these tales collectively under score a
sobering truth. There are places, even today
where humans can vanish without a trace.
National parks are often called America's best idea, but they
also contain some of America's deepest mysteries.
Mount Rainier alone has seen numerous people go missing who
were never found. Hundreds of people have died on
its slopes, and while most were eventually recovered, some
remain out there, part of the mountain.
Now. If you ever visit Mount Rainier
National Park and find yourself at Longmire or Paradise, or
wandering the trails of Mauwitch Lake, pause for a moment.
Feel the ancient silence in the trees.
Realize that for all the park maps, Ranger stations and search
helicopters, there are stories in those woods that we will
never fully know. The story of a young woman and
her dog disappearing into the misty night.
The story of a Ranger who said good night to friends and never
said good morning. The story of a climber's rope
going slack in a storm. These linger like ghosts on the
mountain. And yet people continue to
venture into Rainier's wild heart, drawn by its allure.
Perhaps that's fitting. The mountain gives us wonder and
demands respect. It offers revelation but guards
secrets. Each missing person's case is a
cautionary tale, whispering to us to be careful, be prepared,
and be humble in the face of nature.
In the end, Mount Rainier stands as it has for millennia, grand
and indifferent. It wears a crown of clouds,
keeping its mysteries hidden just out of reach.
For the families of Elaine, Ramona, Sheila, Joe, Eric and
Sam, every sunrise on Rainier is both a beacon of hope and a
reminder of loss. They may never get the answers
they seek, but by sharing these stories, we honor the missing
and perhaps learn vital lessons that could keep others from the
same fate. These six stories, as sad and
eerie as they are, bind together in a final thought.
The wilderness is not cruel or kind.
It's simply wild. And in that wildness, we find
both the thrill of adventure and the risk of the unknown.
So the next time you gaze at Mount Rainier's silhouette
against the sky, remember the souls who are now part of its
legend in their memory. Stay safe, stay prepared, and
always tell someone where you're going because the mountain holds
many secrets and it doesn't intend to give them up easily.