Inside the pack were found both girls’ cell phones, their camera, sunglasses, two bras, a water bottle, $83USD cash, and Lisanne’s passport (but not Kris’s). The girls’ backpack had been found not far from a river bank the couple swore that they were absolutely certain it had not been there the previous day. Ten weeks later, a husband and wife in the remote village of Alto Romero, quite a long way from Boquete, were out tending to their rice paddy when they made a discovery that finally shed some light on the disappearances. The search dragged on for months, with not a sign of the girls being found. They were soon joined by teams from the Netherlands, who were accompanied by cadaver dogs, said to be able to find corpses even after nine months of wet weather. The girls’ parents put up a large reward, missing-person posters went up everywhere, and huge search teams from Panama and Costa Rica began combing through the forests. Kris and Lisanne, as far as anyone can (or will) tell, were never seen alive again.īefore long, a massive search was underway. Later in the day, Blue showed up back at his home in Boquete, no worse for wear. Granted, he proved not to be quite as good with clues as his presumed namesake. I know, everybody’s gonna want to see the dog. They set out for the trail with Blue, the host family’s dog. They wore light clothes (but good boots) and brought only their cell phones, a camera, and a backpack with sunglasses, bathing suits and a few other odds and ends. For two young people in good shape this would be an easy hike, provided they stayed on the clearly-marked trail. A few days later, on the first of April, they found themselves with some time to kill and decided to take a hike up the Pianista trail into the cloud-forests surrounding the Baru volcano. You know, white people shit!Īrriving in Panama, they spent a couple weeks sightseeing before making their way to the small town of Boquete, which was to be their home base, on March 29. To celebrate, they’d planned an ambitious, extended trip to Panama, where they were to stay with a host family, learn Spanish, and do some volunteer work with children. They’d both recently graduated Kris had completed a program in art education, Lisanne in applied sciences. Kris (right, above) and Lisanne, 21 and 22 respectively, were students from the Netherlands (incidentally, I’m half-Dutch myself on my mom’s side as she always says, ‘If you ain’t Dutch, you ain’t much!’) They were good friends, roommates, and even coworkers at a café. But then, so did Kris Kremers and Lisanne Froon. In any event, after all, I do always have my cell phone. But at other times – if, for instance, I’m hiking with someone else in the sunshine – the apprehension seems pretty minimal. Sometimes, say if I’m solo camping and watching the dusk finally surrender to true night, the tension becomes real fear, at least for a little while. As much as I love being out there, that apprehension never gives way to complete comfort. I know it doesn’t really care about me as an individual, as a person, and it certainly cares very, very little for my safety. Deep down I know I’m no more important to The Woods than any of the other animals in it if I were to drop dead out there and not be found, The Woods would, not happily but apathetically, just make me into more of Itself. I don’t ever fully believe people who say otherwise. There’s something spooky about the forest. Once I park the car and the boots hit the dirt, another ten minutes can find me all by my lonesome with nothing but the sound of wind, water, and birds. The practical upshot is that I live my day-to-day life amidst ‘the big city’ (to my eyes, at least, having grown up in a town of only 4,000) yet if I drive a mere ten minutes or so in the right direction I’m in the middle of the forest. I live in a fairly unique place at a little more than half a million people, my city is by far the largest in the region, but it’s not that big, in the grand scheme of things, and the densest part of it is confined to a small peninsula. I spend a lot of time in the woods near my home in Halifax, Nova Scotia. To contact grieving family and friends to try to Columbo yourself up some answers. PS: If necessary please revisit my disclaimer on the Elisa Lam project about how it is It’s weird to say ‘I hope you enjoy’ when it comes to stories about dead people, but you know what I mean. However, in the meantime, I’ve prepared this short-ish piece regarding a very creepy (and tragic) story out of Panama. The Mask Sign: You’ll Get It When You Get It!™ Hello and welcome back to The Mask Sign! To keep you abreast of developments over here: I’m in the very early stages of my next major project, but, as ever, I’m not going to give myself a firm deadline for it as I don’t need the stress.
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