A Vanishing in The Wilderness

Early in my hiking days,I had signed on for a hike in the mountains of New Hampshire. It was a winter hike. Deep snow was piled around the lodge where I had chosen to spend the night before meeting the group the following morning. I was to share a bunk room with another hiker. After an hour or so, he arrived. An affable man younger than I, we soon realized through conversation that he was one of the hike leaders for the group. We decided to go to dinner together in the dining room.

It was in the single digits outside, and a snow shower brushed against the windows. We sat at long tables, elbow to elbow with other guests. With steaming bowls of stew and thick slices of bread, we covered many hiking topics, eventually turning to a news item that was being discussed in various hiking circles. The hiking community in the northeast had been quietly processing a recent tragic story of a hiker swallowed by the wilderness.

Two women, hiking the Appalachian Trail were hiking in summer. They were in Maine, and were preparing to enter the 100 Mile Wilderness. The Wilderness is a rugged, remote section of the Appalachian Trail. There is little or no cell service and no point to resupply until you come out the other side. It is recommended that thru hikers carry 8-10 days of food and are fully supplied when beginning the passage through the wilderness.

Unfortunately, one of the women had to leave the hike to return home. Her friend declined to leave, and instead chose to continue on. While other thru hikers may pass you on the AT, it is rare to hike together, as hikers travel at a pace different from one another. She was not particularly fast, and most thru hikers on the AT are younger folk that put up big numbers for miles on the trail. She carried on alone. At some point, she chose to leave the trail for a bathroom break and became disoriented. She could not find her way back to the trail. In later interviews it was suggested that her map and compass skills were questionable. Having hiked in Maine near where she went missing, I can attest that there are very densely forested areas that can cause you to lose your bearings should you not know how to use one.

It would be more than two years before she was recovered, still in her tent, accompanied by a diary she kept for almost a month before she succumbed to hunger and the elements.

She had tried several times to send a text for help, but it did not transmit out of the forest. She had lost her emergency beacon some time before entering the Maine woods and had not replaced it. Although a massive search by rescue teams and tracking dogs had searched within close range of her tent, they were unable to detect a scent.

My hiking companion told me quietly that he believed he had met her. Hiking in the mountains along a section of the AT before Maine, He believed he had seen her in one of the huts.

“We ate lunch, sitting across from each other.” he said in a hushed tone. “Just as I am sitting across from you now.”

I had no reason to not believe him. We hiked the following morning. It was a crisp winter day, and the snow flurries continued through the hike, with strong below zero wind chill at the summit. We parted ways at the return to the trail head. I never saw him again.

I often think of this story when I am on a hike alone, faced with the choice to leave the trail, especially a bushwack.

In the back country, it is important to know where you are at all times. Carefully consider each decision, and it’s implications. Do not leave the trail, or take a short cut out of desperation. Know when to turn back.