On an overcast morning in August 2014, Mark and Linda Thompson left their Beaverton, Oregon home for what they hoped would be the adventure of a lifetime—a seven-day anniversary trek through Washington’s Glacier Peak Wilderness. Both seasoned hikers and parents of three, they kissed their children goodbye, packed their gear into a silver Honda Pilot, and drove off into the mist. They never returned. For ten years, their disappearance baffled authorities and haunted loved ones. But in September 2024, a hiker’s shocking discovery finally revealed a chilling truth about what really happened to the Thompsons deep within those mountains.
The Thompsons’ home buzzed with the usual mix of excitement and nerves before a big trip. Sixteen-year-old Sarah rolled her eyes as her mom double-checked the emergency contacts, while fourteen-year-old Jake negotiated weekend hangouts and twelve-year-old Emma clung to her dad’s leg, begging him not to go. Linda, a nurse exhausted from endless hospital shifts, saw this as a long-overdue escape. Mark, a software engineer and lifelong outdoorsman, viewed the trip as a return to the peace of the wilderness where their love had begun. Their relationship had always revolved around nature—from their first hike together to the mountain where Mark proposed—but years of work and parenting had left little time for adventure. “Seven days, no phones, no distractions, just us,” Linda had told her sister before leaving.
Mark meticulously planned the sixty-mile loop through the Glacier Peak region, complete with detailed maps, satellite check-ins, and gear fit for any emergency. On August 9, they signed the trail register at Buck Creek Trailhead at 9:15 a.m. and began their climb. That evening, Linda wrote in her journal: “Day one perfect. Mark seems more relaxed already. Weather gorgeous.” Everything appeared to be going as planned.
The following morning, they hiked toward Miner’s Ridge—a stunning but isolated stretch of alpine terrain. It was there they stumbled upon something strange: a ring of seven granite boulders surrounded by smaller stones carved with faint symbols—triangles, numbers, and an eye inside a pyramid. At first, Mark dismissed it as an archaeological curiosity and took photos, but Linda felt uneasy, noting a sudden shift in the air. “Can’t shake the feeling we weren’t alone,” she wrote that night.
By day three, nature itself seemed to fall silent. No birds, no breeze—just an oppressive quiet. Linda confided in her journal that she’d heard footsteps circling their tent overnight. Mark tried to reassure her, but even he couldn’t ignore the mounting dread. When he suggested detouring toward an old mining claim marked on his map, Linda hesitated, but followed. Hours later, they realized they were lost. In the fading light, they spotted a partially hidden structure below a ravine—too elaborate to be a simple cabin.
Inside, the couple found eerie remnants from decades past: mismatched camping gear, neatly folded clothing, and a hiking boot beside a rusted box containing a journal. A driver’s license tucked in a bandana identified its owner as Sarah Mitchell, missing since 1987. The journal, dated 1986, belonged to David Chen, who wrote of being captured by a group called “the Guardians.” According to his entries, these reclusive mountain dwellers believed they were protecting ancient sacred sites marked by stone circles. “Don’t trust the markers,” his final note warned.
Before the Thompsons could process what they’d found, voices echoed from above. Three figures appeared, moving with uncanny confidence down the slope. They weren’t lost hikers—they were hunters. One carried Mark and Linda’s supplies. Another flipped through David Chen’s journal. The third, clearly the leader, studied a modified GPS and sneered, “Technology always makes them easier to follow.” In that moment, the couple realized the truth—their satellite connection had been jammed, their path deliberately manipulated, their curiosity used against them.
That night was their last.
For ten years, the mountains kept their secret—until a hiker stumbled upon the same stone circle in September 2024 and followed a faint trail to the ruins below. What he found was horrifying: dozens of IDs, journals, and personal effects belonging to missing hikers spanning decades. Among them were Mark and Linda’s gear, their journal entries preserved in a waterproof bag. Investigators confirmed that the site contained evidence of a long-standing network—individuals living undetected in the wilderness, preying on those who wandered too close.
Today, the Glacier Peak region remains open to adventurers, but locals warn hikers to stay clear of the stone formations scattered across its ridges. The forest, they say, still watches.
The Thompsons’ story is more than a tragic mystery—it’s a chilling reminder that in nature, not all who are lost are meant to be found. Some secrets, buried beneath moss and time, are guarded by those who will do anything to keep them hidden.
