The gap year, the subject of much yearning and derision of internet memes and misty eyed and blinkered nostalgia of much heard refrains repeated by first year university students and boomers in offices, the best year of my life. I really found myself. I've never learned so much about the world so quickly. Where entire cities and even nations are reduced items ticked off a list. We did Peru, we did Kenya, we did Thailand. For what it's worth, I
did Australia. The concept of a gap year where mostly white, middle and upper class young adults take a year or so to sometimes work, earn money, and go traveling, and was popularized in the nineteen sixties and seventies. The baby boomers had come of age amid war, nuclear armament, and a burgeoning free love movement, and longed to stretch their
legs away from their great or silent parents. They momentarily shirked off the expectations placed on them medicine, law, engineering, and worked in cafes and bars instead, before collecting their hard earned money and taking to the seas and skies, volunteering in Ethiopia, interrailing across Europe trekking along what was known as the Hippie Trail through India, Pakistan and Nepal.
These boomers became parents themselves to Gen X and millennials ubergat gen Z or, growing up in the shadow of successive financial crashes, televised terrorism, and an increasing climate crisis, all the while flicking through photos of their parents international heydays in hot places, mountains and markets, and wide open seas, far flung reaches of the world, a million miles away
from exams and schedules and strict dinner times. Almost two thousand students took a gap year last year, seeking new sights, sounds and smells, looking for that undefinable something. Though it remains very much the preserve of those who tend to be from more financially secure backgrounds and is easy to ridicule, it's certainly no bad thing to want to see and experience more of the world, and it's no easier for
the parents left behind. What can often be so aspirational for the young, freedom adventure uncertainty is often and naturally horror for the parent. They fit for their children's safety in these unknown places or ways. They worry about their health and happiness, and stress constantly that their children must be careful, and fret that careful still might not be enough. Even the parents who were in their day daring adventurers themselves, and even remain as such, even they wish sometimes that
their children were not such adventurous spirits. They will think back to their own instances of youthful daring and perceived invincibility and say, do as I say, not as I do. They will stand at airports and train stations, at front doors on early mornings as taxi doors close and hands wave, feeling that awful fear that only a parent knows when a precious piece of themselves heads out into the wild wild west of the world. And they pray that nothing goes wrong, and if it does well, then they pray
for answers, for hope, for closure. They pray not to be another statistic or cautionary tale. They pray that theirs will not be the kind of story that comes after these words. You're listening to Unexplained, and I'm Richard McLean Smith. It is March fourteenth, twenty fourteen. Two young women in Amosh fought in the Netherlands about thirty kilometers southwest of Amsterdam, have finished their degrees at the University of Utrecht and are preparing for the trip.
Of a lifetime.
They are Lizana Frone and Chris Kramer's and they are best friends. Lisianna is athletic born on September twenty fourth, nineteen ninety one. She is six feet tall with ash blonde hair and dark, soulful eyes. She is a volleyball player and is known as a thoughtful, intelligent, and empathetic young woman. Despite her natural shyness, she has an adventurous spirit. She tries her hand at skydiving and is a keen walker in her native Netherlands. She loves to take photographs
and is studying applied psychology. Chris, her friend and university's room mate, is in many ways her opposite. Born August ninth, nineteen ninety two, she is outgoing, spontaneous and outspoken, with vivid, strawberry blonde hair and bright blue eyes. She has just completed her studies in cultural social education, specializing in art, and has decided to continue with a postgraduate program in art history after their trip. She loves theater festivals and
the red hot chili peppers. Chris and Lisana met while working part time jobs at the same cafe. Hoping to save enough money to go traveling, they decided to share a flat and ultimately travel together. They are twenty two and twenty one, respectively. They decide on Panama, a small tropical country immediately north of Columbia, A popular hotspot with tourists, expats,
and retirees. Panama boasts beautiful landscapes, an entirely new pace of life, and the opportunity to learn Spanish and volunteer with charities. On March fifteenth, the parents accompany them to Skipple Airport, just outside of Amsterdam. They hug and kiss their daughters goodbye, clasping their faces and kissing them on the cheek. The two young women, Lousanna and Chris, wearing light jackets and scarves, laugh and smile and roll their eyes at each other, a little embarrassed by it all.
Eventually they make their final exchanges, then pull their big rucksacks from the floor and hook them onto their backs. They give each other a look as if to say let's go. Then they turn one final time to their parents, no longer able to contain their excitement, and wave goodbye, and then they turn and head through security. Their parents stay to watch, even just to see the back of their heads as they disappear into the distance, until they
can no longer see them anymore. Chris and Lizana's first stop is San Jose, Costa Rica. They stay there for a couple of days before moving on to Boccos del Toro in Panama, which they describe as beautiful and cozy. And it really is beautiful. There are houses built on stilts right out to sea. The colors are vivid and vibrant, as though it's a place of abundant saturation, the color dialed right up on the TV. The sea is duel bright, and the sky is clear. The lush plant life presents
more shades of green than they ever thought possible. It's all taxis and buses, borders and boats, the staff of a gap year adventurer's dreams. They make friends, fine starfish on white sandy beaches, sun bathe under palm trees. They drink straight out of coco nuts. They talk and laugh all the time. They write in their diaries about all the delicious food they eat, the beautiful locations they visit, about the time they danced in the warm Panamanian rains
and their slowly improving Spanish. They visit mangrove swamps and see sloths and dolphins in the wild. In Bocchus, staying at the Spanish school, meeting other young travelers, they revel in the veritable paradise of their new surroundings. For their parents, each message home, beer to WhatsApp, or precious Skype call brings a warm, reassuring feeling and smiles at the thought of their daughters so far away yet seeming so happy. But Chris and Lizana are not in Bocchus for long.
After a couple of weeks, they move on to Bocchette in the Cherokee region, to continue with their Spanish lessons and to begin volunteering at a nursery school. On their last day before they leave, Chris takes a moment to write a quick line in her diary, the time we had in Boccas was really wonderful. We had a real holiday there. It felt like goodbye because we probably won't
be coming back. On March twenty ninth, twenty fourteen, Lizanna and Chris take a small bus to Bocchette in western Panama. It too is a lush and ferdant place, a small town on the Caldera River. It's known as Little Switzerland because of its many is crossing streams and brooks, illuminating the area in crystal clear water and fertile green. The still active Baru volcano forty minutes away in riches the soil, contributing to the unique ecosystem of the surrounding Cherokee Highlands.
It's no wonder the region is home to coffee plantations and so many unique species of plants and animals. They arrive eventually at Spanish by the River, an all inclusive language school and hostel. Here travelers can take language classes and get paired with host families, and also put in touch with schools and nurseries where they can volunteer. It's strange, after two weeks of independence and new friends in Bacchus del Toro to suddenly find themselves part of a family.
Their hosts are friendly and used to foreign nationals with little Spanish, but all the same, those first couple of days in Boquetta are a difficult transition. It's the first time in all these weeks that they feel homesick. It soon passes and They're excited for their first day at Aura, the nursery they've been assigned as volunteers on March thirty. First, they arrive at Ara, but are given less than friendly welcome. The staff seem a little cold and claim not to
recognize them. They say they weren't expecting anyone to start work that day. Lisano and Chris are brusquely informed that they should come back next week. The young women are throne. This had been planned months ago, they thought. Surprised and disappointed, they head back to Spanish by the River and chat to Maryoline, one of their coordinators. They spend the day languish in the sun, frustrated and a little anxious about
the abrupt change in plans. They wait for Maya Line to find out if there is work for them elsewhere. The response is inconclusive, but Maya Line is hopeful that she can get them some work at another nursery called Cassa Esperanza. She promises she'll have confirmation by the end of the next day. Lisanna and Chris are glad to hear it. They're none too keen to return to Aura after the less than warm welcome they'd received, and after
reading about the alternative project Cassa Esperanza. They've become enthused and decide that maybe it was all for the best anyway. They go for a massage to lift their spirits. They write messages to family and friends on WhatsApp and Facebook and research some possible walking tours for the weak ahead, and then head out for dinner. That night, Chris, pleasantly decompressed, signs off her diary with let's go with the Panamanian flow. Tomorrow will be a new day, a new month, and
a chance for a brand new start. Since arriving in Central America, Lezanna and Chris were in daily contact with their parents, and Chris with her boyfriend Stefan.
Two.
At two pm Dutch time, eight am in Panama on Tuesday, April first, Stefan got a text from Chris. She was excited about the week ahead. They'd made lots of plans and she was looking forward to telling him all about it, But then there was nothing. When their pairs have not heard from them by Wednesday, they try texting them again, but they are met with only a thundering silence. They try to stay calm. Their daughters are, after all, having the time of their lives on the other side of
the world. It isn't their priority to stay in touch. Not hearing from them is in some ways to be expected. Then late on the Wednesday night, Lizana's parents receive a call from the host family in Bockette. They tell them that their daughter and Chris did not come home the night before. The parents contact the agency that organize the trip and ask them to see if.
They can get more information.
The agency calls them back soon after with more troubling news. The girls didn't just fail to come home for the night. They haven't been seen or heard from from in over twenty four hours. By anyone, twenty four becomes forty eight, then seventy two. Within days, both sets of parents. Both sets of parents fly out to Panama to try and figure out for themselves what is going on. Knowing only one thing for certain, their daughters are missing, and not
of their own volition. Bit by bit, alongside the police, they start to develop a picture of their daughter's last known whereabouts. On Tuesday, April first, the last time they were known to have been seen, Luzanna and Chris are thought to have had lunch with two Dutch men in town.
These men were.
Later questioned by the authorities. They said that the women told them that they'd supposedly spoken to a local guide, God Feliciano about taking a hike to the ill Pianista Trail. It's a popular walk among tourists, about four kilometers north of Bockheta. It's a fairly simple and clearly marked trail that takes you through the local cloud forests the unique
microclimatic jungle of the Cherokee Highlands. It's about a four hour round trip and leads to El Mirador, or the Overlook, a stunning viewpoint with a three hundred and sixty degree panoramic of the mountainous rainforest. Most tourists walk up it, pose for a few photos, and then come straight back down. They do occasionally get lost, but they're almost always found by guides or locals returning to town, relieved, bitten and dehydrated, having been little but embarrassed by the jungle. It is
a stunning landscape. The cord Piera de Talamanca, the mountain range that dominates the Highlands, stretching into Costa Rica. It's full of rare plants and the reaching fronds of vast mossy trees hows all manner of creatures, brightly colored hummingbirds as well as hawks and eagles and tiny pigmy owls.
And that's just in the air.
In the trees, one might find howler monkeys on the ground, cougars, jaguars, and ocelots. The jungle holds many dangers, and it's easy to just get plain lost. In the dry season from January to May, the dense jungle around the ill Pianista Trail is incredibly difficult to traverse. The winding, narrow trailsills and walls of trees and shrubs are almost solid. You
need machetes to hack through it. Anyone straying off the path for whatever reason without the deep knowledge of the jungle held only by very experienced guides and indigenous inhabitants of the Talamanca such as the Ngabi people, would be in serious trouble. The Ngabe's territory today exists within Panama
and Costa Rica in Central America. They mostly live within the Ingabe Bouglas Comarca, a comarca being a self governed indigenous region in the western Panamanian provinces of Cherokee, Verakuas and Boccas del Toro. They also have five indigenous territories in southwestern Costa Rica. They, like many indigenous groups, have faced persecution, dating at least as far far back as
Christopher Columbus's sixteenth century attempt to colonize the area. There are famous stories of Ingabe leaders repelling Columbus and his men time and time again, but they were eventually pushed and kettled into the western mountains by the conquistadors, driven from their spread of land between the Pacific Ocean to the Caribbean Sea by the development of large banana plantations.
As a result, they are some of the only people who contraversed the Cordillera de Talamanca safely, and are understandably wary of outsiders, particularly government authorities who spent many years denying them. A comarker of their own, the majority now live within its boundaries. In the rainy season from May to December. To be caught unprepared or unaware is to
surrender entirely to the elements. The steep terrain and heavy rainfall flood the network of rivers, streams, and brooks, causing lethal,
fast running river channels throughout the Cloud Forest. The air is hot and heavy as currents rise from the Pacific and deposit over some one hundred and thirty five inches of rain every year, and so the water levels rise, Narrow trails become mudshutes, fog Cloud's vision in the middle of the day, and the runoff Jettison's downhill through a myriad of sharply jagged and rocky ravines that are often
obscured by the fauna of the landscape. Ill Pianista or the piano player, is so named because it climbs just so, step after step, up and up, like scales on a piano. At the top of the trail is the continental divide. This makes the point where the land's water divides, splitting inevitably into two. On the western side of the divide, the rushing aggregate of rivers flowed downhill into the Pacific Ocean. Those to the east gather together and eventually.
Reached the Caribbean Sea.
There are many tour and guide companies operating out of Boketa and the surrounding areas, offering a range of hikes, hot spring visits, and other experiences for adventure seekers. Feliciano is a guide whose lived and worked in Bokhetta his entire life. He offered Lisanna and Chris a full package tour, including a guided hike up Ilpianista and beyond to the nearby Continental Divide, and an overnight stop at its ranch in the jungle on the far side at the Cordillera
de Talamanca. For reasons unknown, they put him off. According to Feliciano, who was also interviewed by the police, the women agreed to meet him the next day to undertake his tour, but they never showed up. At about ten am on the Tuesday, Nzanna and Chris supposedly took a
taxi from their host family's house into Bocchetta. Some say they were then seen having brunch with the two dutchmen before heading off toward the il Pianista trail, the same trail that Feliciano said he'd agreed to take them on the following day. Perhaps they never intended to go with Feliciano. Maybe they simply didn't want to pay for a hike that many tourists manage alone. Perhaps they didn't want to go into the jungle with a stranger who suggested they
stay at his ranch. Perhaps they'd heard some of the complaints that had been made against Feliciano over the years, allegations of inappropriate behavior around female clients, for example. Either way they decided to hike alone, the trail is clearly marked now.
At its end is.
Situated a huge sign which makes it clear that other trails leading off from the main one are not for tourists and not maintained by the National Park rangers. Often the sign is not necessary during the rainy season. The other trails boast thigh high mud and a dangerous twisting whose very nature would convince all but the most confident to stay away. But at the time in twenty fourteen, there was no sign and the rains had not yet arrived. Some say they went straight to the trail and were
accompanied by a zoo, the host's family dog. Over time, the details have become as dense and foggy as the jungle itself, overgrown with retellings and changed statements. The witness testimony we can verify is what the women were wearing on the day they disappeared, light clothing, vests and shorts. They carried only Loizana's small backpack with them, suggesting that whatever walk they were planning was not intended to be
lengthy or arduous. Later that night, Ursull, meaning blue in English, appeared back at the host family's house without Losiana and Chris. The following morning, April second, Feliciano, the guide with whom they supposedly made an appointment with the day before, reported that they never arrived.
To meet with him, and so the alarm was raised.
Sena PROC, the country's national Civil Protection service, claim they began aerial searches on April third, two days after the young women were last seen alive. A ground search begins the day after, but local guides disagree. They claimed that they organized their own groups in those initial twenty four to forty eight hours, and that Sena PROC were not involved until April sixth, four days after the young women
were first reported missing. In any case, once Sena PROC and a government got involved, it said that volunteers were cut out of the search, red tape and bureaucracy seemed to suddenly overwhelm the process, as if the Panamanian authorities were keen to preserve the region's tourist reputation at all costs.
Local tour guide for Liciano is involved in the search However, he speaks to the authorities, claims to aid seen a PROC for many days, and even meets the women's families when they arrive in Bocketa on April sixth, desperate for answers. Perhaps this is significant, perhaps it is not. When Lesana and Chris's parents arrive, they immediately offer a thirty thousand dollars reward for any information leading to the discovery of
their daughter's whereabouts. But the reward just seems to complicate things. It is a life changing amount of money, and no sooner than it's announced, a plethora of tips come flooding in. Each have to be looked into and followed up on consumer time and resources, and each tip amounts to very little or the while. The searches continue, but they are messy and poorly coordinated. The women told no one where they were going exactly, and the investigation becomes confused by
conflicting eyewitness accounts and changing testimonies. Some groups cone the nearby Baru volcano, others continue to search deep into the jungle. On April seventh, a Sena PROC team spends the night in the jungle looking for the women. They call out and use light signals hacking through the pitch black with machetes, but by midnight they've found nothing. They continue day and night searches, bringing in dogs to help, but all of it is to no avail. By now, the women have
been missing for ten days. Seen aproc and the Panamanian authorities seem prepared to concede.
That they are no match for the jungle.
They reduced their search efforts and decrease the resources. The rainy season is imminent and if the search was impossible during the dry weather patterns, it will be entirely futile in a few days time. A Dutch led attempt sees a new team of dogs and people flown out from the Netherlands, but the rains begin their deluge and the teams return to the Netherlands frustrated and empty handed. Forlisana and Chris's parents, it is an unrelenting nightmare. Their daughters
were supposed to return to them. They were not supposed to be here without them. Trapsing through the endless jungle, willing it to give up its secrets, but the jungle does not speak.
In the end, they.
Too are forced to give up and return home. At night, they are haunted by the endless green, how it swallows sounds and smells, devours the senses. Local guides talk about the madness that can descend when lost in the jungle, when the rains dilute all trace of you, when all the trees look the same, when dusk swiftly descends, and all the many pairs of eyes begin to glow in the gloom. It is so easy to lose your way,
It is so hard to find it again. You've been listening to Unexplained, Season seven, episode twelve, The Jungle Never Sleeps. Part one second and final part will be released next Friday, December twenty second. This episode was written by Ella McLoud and Richard McLain Smith. Unexplained is an Avy Club Productions podcast created by Richard McLain Smith. All other elements of the podcast, including the music, are also produced by me
Richard mclin smith. Unexplained. The book and audiobook, with stories never before featured on the show, is now available to buy worldwide. You can purchase from Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Waterstones, and other bookstores. Please subscribe to and rate the show wherever you get your podcasts, and feel free to get in touch with any thoughts or ideas regarding the stories you've heard on the show. Perhaps you have an explanation
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