People go missing every day, never to be seen again. It’s sad but not uncommon. However, when someone vanishes from plain sight—there one minute and gone the next—that is unusual. Stranger still is the alarming frequency with which this happens in our National Parks.
With 429 state parks covering 84 million acres and an additional 500,000 square miles of protected land, it’s hardly a mystery that people get lost in them. It’s so common that it overshadows a more nefarious pattern of unexplained vanishings. What sets these cases apart are the curious circumstances, eyewitness reports, and the unsettling tales of those who survived.
One of the more commonly reported incidents involves young children. Typically, something briefly diverts their parents’ attention, and when they turn back, the child is gone. This often occurs in public areas or campsites. Other incidents occur on trails where the child runs ahead, turns a bend, or steps off the path. In most instances, someone is right there, only steps away. Yet, despite instant response times and a relatively small search area, the child is not found.
Fortunately, many of these children are eventually found, though the circumstances in which they are discovered are perplexing. Many have been found miles away from where they vanished, often in remote, rugged wilderness areas seemingly impossible for a child to access. Disturbingly, some of them claim to have not been alone.
Some survivors report bears or wolves watched over them, bringing them berries or guiding them to streams to drink. Others insist that family members took them despite these individuals being proven to have been elsewhere. One child claimed his dead grandma kept him in a cave for two weeks and made him poop on a plate. Another claimed they were taken to a cave where it was always daylight inside, even at night.
Take the case of 6-year-old Lillian Carney, who went missing in August 1897 near Massardis, Maine. She disappeared around noon one day, pickling blueberries with her parents. Two hundred people came out to search for her, finding her three days later in the same spot she vanished from. Lillian thought she was only absent for a moment, having little to report other than, “The sun was always shining in the forest.”
In 1946, eight-year-old Katherine Van Alst disappeared from her family’s campsite at Devil’s Den State Park in Arkansas wearing nothing but a bathing suit. Despite her brothers fishing right next to her and her campsite within sight, Katherine vanished without a trace. Six days later, she walked out of a cave, calmly greeting searchers and saying, “Here I am.” She was seven miles away as the crow flies, though she would have had to travel 30 miles over rough terrain to reach the cave. Though covered in bug bites and minor scratches, she was remarkably healthy. Saying there was fresh water in her cave and that she had slept on warm grass.
In 1957, 3-year-old Randy Libby vanished from a campsite in Yosemite National Park, sparking a 250-person search effort. The boy was discovered the next day by bloodhounds, 8 miles away and 3000 feet up a mountain, wearing only his bathing suit. Besides a few bruises and scratches on his feet, the boy was unharmed, still chewing the same bubble gum from the day before. While not impossible, it is hard to imagine a 3-year-old making an 8-mile hike with 3000 feet of elevation over rough terrain. That same week, another child, 3-year-old Shirly Ann Miller, disappeared from the same campground and was found in similar circumstances three days later.
Tragically, many of these cases do not have happy endings. A similar pattern exists, where the victim is discovered miles from where they disappeared in terrain that would be near impossible for them to access. Commonly, shoes or clothing are missing or, in some cases, put on backward or inside out, as if dressed by someone unfamiliar with how clothing functions.
Other times, there is nothing left behind but a mystery. In 1971, Douglas Legg was hiking with his parents near their cabin at the Santanoni Estate near Newcomb in the Adirondack Mountains. Doug’s family described him as a mini-woodsman familiar with the land around their property. When his uncle saw poison ivy on the trail, he instructed Doug to go back to the cabin and put on his pants. This distance was only a few hundred yards. He passed his cousins on the trail, who last saw him within sight of the cabin fifty yards away. Bloodhounds were brought in and picked up his trail, though they were confounded when it reached a dead-end near the cabin. No other trace of him was ever found.
In 1969, 6-year-old Dennis Martin played hide-and-seek with his friends in the Great Smoky Mountains National Park. Friends and family witnessed the boy stepping behind a shrub to hide. After 5 minutes, when he didn’t emerge, his father went looking for him. To this day, the search effort for Dennis Martin remains the largest in park history. Sadly, only a few footprints were found. A man named Harold Key and his family heard a horrible shriek and witnessed a large hairy man – possibly covered in animal pelts – carrying a boy dressed in a red shirt into the forest. The boy’s father later accused the FBI and NPS of discounting and suppressing this account, as well as other eyewitness reports.
These strange vanishings are not exclusive to children. It’s even more bizarre when an experienced and capable adult meets a mysterious fate. Take the case of Steven Kubacki.
In 1978, 23-year-old college student Steven Kubacki went cross-country skiing in Indiana Dunes State Park along the southern shores of Lake Michigan. Steven was reported missing when he failed to return home, and search and rescue teams were dispatched. He was known to be an experienced outdoorsman, mountain climber, and skier, and unlikely to become lost. Eventually, his skis, pack, and personal items were discovered near a trail of footprints leading toward the lake. At the time, it was believed he fell through thin ice and drowned. He did not.
Fifteen months later, Kubacki woke up in a field in Pittsfield, Massachusetts, seven hundred miles from where he disappeared. He was wearing clothes that did not belong to him and had no idea how he got there or how long he had been missing. Laying nearby was a backpack with maps, new shoes, $40 in cash, and a commemorative T-shirt from a marathon in Wisconsin. None of these items were familiar to him. Kubacki has no explanation for his missing time. He has since put the events behind him and refuses to discuss them.
In 2018, Canadian fireman Danny Fillippidis was on vacation in Lake Placid, New York. While skiing on Whiteface Mountain, he vanished without a trace. A massive search and rescue operation was launched. Six days later, he was found in Sacramento, California. He was wearing clothes that were not his own, had gotten a haircut, and possessed a new iPhone. He has no memory of the missing six days or how he came to be on the opposite coast.
These are just a few examples. There are countless others, each with its laundry list of theories and wild speculation. It could be that these people just got lost—it happens every day—or perhaps there is something darker at play. Serial killers are not unknown in these lonely, isolated areas. One should never underestimate their capacity for evil. But what if it’s even stranger?
Take Mount Hayes in Alaska, an area known for unexplained disappearances. A quick Google search will turn up a plethora of UFO conspiracies and references to the “Alaskan Triangle.” Allegedly, there is a network of extraterrestrial outposts in remote areas of our national parks and wilderness areas, with Mount Hayes being a major hub. Theories of alien abduction are rampant, though that is a rabbit hole we don’t have time for here.
Another curious theory involves the paranormal. Hikers across the country have reported incidents of strange voices calling for help just off the trail. Those who have heard these cries describe them as mimicry as if something were pretending to be human and attempting to lure them off the trail. These encounters are reminiscent of shape-shifting entities in Native American mythology. The Skinwalker would be a notable example.
Others prefer a cryptozoological explanation. Tales of wildmen or Sasquatch are familiar in almost all parts of the country, so it is little surprise that Bigfoot might stand accused of kidnapping. An interesting example would be the aforementioned case of Dennis Martin. Martin’s father accuses the FBI and the park authorities of suppressing reports of a large hairy humanoid stalking the area. Curiously, the FBI allegedly sent in a heavily armed tactical unit to search for the boy, suggesting that someone or something dangerous was involved.
Former police officer turned investigator David Paulides has a lot of opinions about the National Park disappearances. He wrote a series of books and documentaries called The Missing 411. He is also well-known for his research on Bigfoot and is the founder and director of the North American Bigfoot Search. Though arguably controversial, his research has revealed an alarming number of unexplained disappearances. Paulides claims a troubling pattern of omitted details, incompetent investigations, and outright coverups occurring in these cases. He suggests a culture of suppression, if not a conspiracy, between SARs, park officials, and Law enforcement.
As controversial as his opinions are, there may be some truth to it. The last thing a parent wants to hear from a search and rescue team is that Bigfoot absconded with their child. It is easy to understand why unconventional theories, even if plausible, could be downplayed or ignored. Consider the plight of commercial pilots who have had their credibility destroyed by reporting UFO sightings. A similar stigma must certainly apply to LEOs and park rangers.
Whatever is causing these disappearances, it is still happening to this day. But before you cancel that trip to Yellowstone, know that millions of people visit our National Parks every year, and very few of them turn up missing, a statistical drop in the bucket. I’m sure you’ll be fine. However, if you hear a strange bird-like voice calling for help or whispering your name from the shady trees, be sure to stay on the path.
Jason Roberts is a Seattle-based author noted for his acclaimed western horror series The Dead Wind Trilogy as well as other works of cosmic horror infused with historical fiction. His web-based series, Dark Distractions, examines paranormal mysteries, unexplained phenomena, and all things strange.
