In the beginning, before the world was shaped, the earth lay in darkness, covered only in water. No mountains rose, no rivers ran, and no people walked upon the land. In the vastness beyond the sky lived Chirea, the old man above, a being of great wisdom and power. One day he looked down upon the empty world and decided it should be made ready for life. He descended from its high place, stepping carefully upon a great cloud, before coming to rest on a shallow reef in the sea.
With his mighty hands, he gathered stones and earth and shaped the first lands. He piled high the mountains and carved deep valleys. He traced the paths of the rivers with his fingers, and where his hands lingered, water began to flow. Jaraya saw that the world needed light, so he reached into the sky and brought forth the sun, setting it in its place. He took the cold and placed it in the mountain tops, where it would rest
as snow and feed the rivers below. He made the trees to hold the soil, the animals to roam the land, and the fish to swim in the waters. Then he created the first people. He taught them how to hunt how to build shelters, and how to live in harmony with the world he had created. When his work was done, he climbed back into the sky and returned to his home above. Among the mountains he raised, one stood above
all others, Ui Taku, the White Mountain. In time, others came to the region, Klamath, Wintu, a Chumawee, Art, Sugawe, Modoc, and Kaho Sadi or Shasta, as they came to be known by later settlers to the region, and that mountain would eventually take that name too, becoming known as Mount Shasta. All agreed the mountain was a sacred place, a place of visions and power, and for seeking communion with the
unseen world. Some even say, if you're not careful, there are places on the mountain where you can fall into this unseen world too. You're listening to Unexplained, and I'm Richard mclin Smith. The volcanic peak of Mount Shasta looms out of the Shasta Trinity National Forest in the North California. Its upper slopes are devoid of trees and often clad in a blanket of snow. Tackling. The peak is fraught with danger in winter The ascent is slick with ice,
requiring at least crampons to make the summit. In summer, the snow melts to reveal steep slopes strewn with loose rocks. Over seventy climbers are known to have died attempting it since records began, none of which deterred sixty nine year old Carl Landers, who was on a mission to climb the highest peak in every county of California. Back in nineteen ninety seven, Carl made a failed attempt to summit Mount Shasta. It had haunted him ever since, so naturally
he wanted to try again. Carl's wife, Bobby, was nervous about its latest adventure. After summitting the mountain, Carl planned to climb two more peaks in the area, but once he had an idea in his head, there was no stopping him. It was a warm sunny day in May nineteen ninety nine when Carl arrived in Mount Shaster Town at the foot of the mountain. He grinned widely at his friends Billy and Milt, who were there to greet him. The three men became climbing pals through a local organization
for older exercise enthusiasts. Both had accompanied Karl on his failed trip in nineteen ninety seven. Being a little younger, it was their arrangement that they would walk ahead they wait for Karl to catch them up. Back in ninety seven, after Barry and Milt made it to the summit, Carl failed to appear. They found him on their return down the mountain, having been too exhausted to continue. They teased him gently about it that morning, but Karl was having
none of it. This would be the day, he told them. The men bought some provisions, then made the winding drive up to Bunny Flat trailhead, a popular place to begin the trek to the summit. A gusty wind picked up as the men laced up their boots and strapped on their fifteen pound packs. Karl gazed up to the snowy tip of the mountain, a steely intent in his eyes. This time, he thought, I'm going to get you this time, and with that they set off, winding through a dense
forest of fur. The men savored the fresh, tingly scent of the trees and serenity of the great outdoors. Before long, the forest began to thin and the paths deepened, leading up into more desolate rock strewn to rain. It wasn't long after they left the forest that Carl's stomach began cramping up, and he was forced to take regular toilet breaks, possibly due to the drugs he'd been taking to offset
altitude sickness. By the time they'd reached nine thousand feet above sea level, Milt and Barry were stopping every ten minutes or so to wait for their friend. They agreed to carry his pack for him, taking it in turns to hold it as they trudged on together. Barryon Milt then tried walking behind Karl, hoping it might help to spur him on. Not wanting to hold his friends back, however,
Karl suggested they go on ahead without him. The friends reluctantly agreed and arranged to rendezvous with Karl at their first waypoint, an area of flatter, snow covered ground called fifty fifty, but they planned to camp for the night. It was just approaching eight p m. As a hazy dusk to send it when Barrion Milt arrived at fifty fifty. The pair watched on as more hikers appeared in drips
and drabs, but there was no sign of Carl. With the sun inching closer and closer to the horizon, the pair had no choice but to head back down in search of their friend. It didn't take long to spot him about two hundred yards below, making steady but achingly slow progress. Having been worried that his climbing jacket wasn't right for the conditions, Karl's wife had lent her his a bright purple and red number, meaning even in the
low light of dusk, he was easy to spot. Barry and Milt moved quickly down to get him, then escorted him back up to fifty fifty. The wind had picked up considerably by the time they arrived, whipping dry snow up off the ground as they set to work digging an igloo like shelter to keep it at bay. Once finished, it took them almost an hour, wrestling with the near fifty mile pro hour gusts to pitch their tent inside it.
Finally nestled inside the tent, the men cooked chicken noodle soup, but Karl refused to eat it, worried it might make him sick. The following morning, the men awoke as the first neon rays of daylight emerged above the horizon. Though Carl's stomach hadn't quite settled, he was well enough to share breakfast with Barryon Milt and insisted he was fit enough to continue the climb. Barr and Milt were happy
to take his word for it. The next stage was a two mile stretch across steep but mostly open ground to an area known as Lake Helen, with only the occasional pile of rock and some minor ridges to negotiate after that. In any case, they planned to make another assessment at the weather to determine if it was safe to continue or not. Since they had a fairly unobstructed view of the summit, it was agreed that Carl should go on ahead while Barrion Milt took down the tent.
This way he could get a head start, but they could also keep an eye on him if he got into any difficulty. When nearing an especially high summit, climbers are written often of the strange sense of serenity and focus it can engender. The wind house, the snow crunches under foot, and the sky feels closer, almost oppressive. Some describe it like having entered another world. Your mind suddenly detached from the world down below. Striding out for the
summit of Mount Shasta is no different. Perhaps something of that was going through Karl's mind as he stood outside the tent that morning, staring quietly off into space. When Barrion Milt suggested he start walking, he replied simply okay, then promptly set off up the steep, rocky trail. Milt was the last of the three to leave, having needed to make some adjustments to his crampons. About an hour after Karl's departure, Milt could still see him just about
among a steady line of fellow climbers. He was slowly edging higher up the mountain, stopping to rest briefly every five paces. Barry, meanwhile, was some distance behind, but quickly closing the gap. But when Milt caught up with Barry soon after, he found him looking pale and feeling unwell. As a wind picked up, the pair sensed stormy weather approaching. With both of them now also struggling with the effects of altitude sickness, they make the difficult decision to abandon
their effort to reach the summit. The stronger of the pair, Milt, volunteered to fetch Carl, while Barry headed back down to the Bunny Flat trailhead, where they'd part their car. With only one path to take, Milt soon arrived at Lake Helen, surprised not to have yet caught up with Carl. Seeing another group of hikers there, he asked if they'd seen a man wearing a bright purple and red jacket on
their travels. Thankfully, they had, as one of the group explained the man had asked him for advice on how best to reach the summit. He told him about the two possible routes he knew of. One was a lot harder than the other, which he discouraged him from taking.
Wilt gazed up toward the easier route to the summit, where he could see around twenty people winding their way up to the top, and on the harder route, he saw one single climber wearing what seemed to be a bright purple and red jacket, stopping to rest briefly after every five steps. Dismayed, Milt promptly took off after him, trying to keep the man in his sight. Milt suddenly lost him as he disappeared behind a small ridge. When
he finally arrived at the same spot. He saw then that the footprints of whoever it was merged with a number of others, suggesting the solo man had in fact
been walking with a group. Milt realized that this climber was also moving way too fast to have been calm, Dangerously tired and despondent, and with no sign of his friend, Milt had little choice but to head back down the mountain in the hope that he might yet pass Karl on the way back At fifty fifty, where the men had camped for the night, there was no sign of his missing friend, and a few hours later he was back at the Bunny Flat trailhead, but only Barry was
there waiting for him. By the following day, Karl had still yet to return. On hearing that her husband was missing, a distraught Bobby was quickly on hand to assist. She insisted to police that she and Karl weren't experiencing any financial or marital difficulties, or anything else that might suggest he'd intended to go missing. The police wondered also if Karl had any enemies, but Karl was well liked in his local community, and though Barry and Milt agreed he
could sometimes be stubborn and bad tempered. They'd never seen him have a violent disagreement with anyone, though poor weather had moved in across the region. Since Carl was an experienced hiker with enough provisions to survive the coming days, there were reasons to be optimistic that he would soon be found. But one day turned to two, then three, and four. A week after he disappeared, more than seventy
people were searching daily for any sign of him. Trails stretching down from the summit were scoured, and the rest of the mountain meticulously searched using a systematic grid. Even cadaver docks were deployed to help, but they found nothing.
What Barrion Milt couldn't understand was how Carl could have disappeared within such a short time window, during which he would not have been out of view from either themselves or other hikers on the trail for more than a period of thirty minutes, which at the pace he was moving, would have made it near impossible for him to venture off track without being seen. And if he had been overcome by fatigue and exposure, where could his body, in its brightly colored jacket be on wide open slopes with
no dense vegetation, cliffs or crevices to conceal it. The searchers didn't find any traits of Karl's clothing or equipment. It was, as one rescuer described it, like the mountain had just opened up and swallowed him. On June third, nineteen ninety nine, the search to find Karl was called off. There was simply nowhere else to look. Entry nine five six three seven is still up on the US National
Missing and Unidentified Person's website. The entry has a picture of Carl Herbert Landers as he was shortly before he disappeared, a man on the cusp of seventy with receding white hair, a hand and somewhat weather beaten face, and a rye grin. If he was still alive today, he would be ninety six years old. Carl Landers is just one of many people who have vanished without a trace on Mount Shasta.
Back in July nineteen sixty five, a much more experienced mountaineer by the name of John Nez had set off up the mountain one bright summer day. At eighty years old. It might have seemed foolish for Nezer to go alone, but he'd climbed the mountain many times before, summitting successfully no less than forty times. So confident was Nezer of the weather and his abilities that he left a lot of his equipment at a cabin below the tree line, expecting to summit and return the same day. When he
failed to return, a search was initiated. Two snowslides were spotted on the mountain, while a buzzard circled ominously overhead, but like landers, Nesser's body was never found. It's hard to find solid numbers of just how many people go missing in America's wild places every year. There's no mandatory centralized repository where search and rescue teams must file reports, but in twenty twenty one, nearly three thousand, four hundred people needed help getting out of the wilderness in u
s national parks alone. In his twenty twenty book The Cold, Vanish author and journalist John Billman researched the people currently missing in North America's wilderness. He found that most of these disappearances were likely easy to explain, caused either by hypothermia, falls, avalanches, or attacks by wild animals like mountain lions or bears. But Billman is most fascinated by vanished without a trace cases that defire conventional logical explanations like that of Karl Landers.
In his book, he says these happen more often and a lot closer to human habitation than most people realize. Unexpectedly. During his research, Billman found that often the most reliable information comes from bigfoot hunters. Their database of disappearances occurring under what they call mysterious circumstances was set up by the founder of the North America Bigfoot Search, David Paul
Idy's in twenty eleven. According to this data, it's likely that there are currently around sixteen hundred people missing across North America's wild lands in circumstances that are hard to explain, but Mount Shasta is among the stranger regions for inexplicable disappearances. For years, Mount Shasta has been at the center of numerous myths, legends, and every kind of paranormal sighting, from
bigfoot to UFOs and even ghosts. The mountain's ice clad peak, steaming fumaroles, and actively eroding shape shifting surface or contribute to its eerie mystique. Some have speculated that the rare mysterious portals to other dimensions hidden around the mountain, which the disappeared to have stumbled into, adding to its mystique.
It turns out that significant electromagnetic anomalies have been recorded around the mountain, leading some to wander if the mountain has become a repository for the phenomena of X points. X points are formed when the magnetic fields of the Sun and Earth cross each other, suddenly joining to create openings in the combined magnetic fields. These openings can propel uninterrupted jets of charged particles at high speed from the
Sun's atmosphere to Earth. Invisible, unstable, and elusive, these electron diffusion regions, as they are called, appear to open and close without any warning. Observations by NASA have suggested that these magnetic portals open and close dozens of times each day. Most are small and short lived, but others are vast and sustained, during which time tons of energetic particles can flow through the openings, heating Earth's upper atmosphere, sparking geomagnetic
storms and igniting bright polar auroras. Typically, X points are located tens of thousands of kilometers above Earth, where the geol magnetic field meets on rushing solar wind. So far, it's not known whether large magnetic anomalies on Earth, like the one known to extend underneath Mount Shasta, have any interaction with these invisible and elusive magnetic portals out in space.
Scientifically speaking, this is highly unlikely and far less likely that these points would create pockets in space and time through which someone might fall. We hope. To the Modoc, a Native American community local to the area, the volcano is home to a creature they call the matter Cagmi, their word for Bigfoot, a race of giants who they consider to be the keepers of the woods who have existed as long as their own people, and modern sightings
of Bigfoot are rife around Mount Shasta. Back in eighteen ten, twenty six European traders arrived in the area. They introduced cattle ranching and lumber practices, which were used successfully by incoming settlers and the Native American communities alike. But as conflicts between local communities and settlers grew, the Native Americans were eventually forced to seed twenty three million acres of
their land and moved onto reservations. Then the new settlers began to weave their own folklore around Mount Shast None were stranger than the tale of a British geologist called J. C. Brown. In nineteen o four. J. C. Brown was said to have been hired by the Lord Cowdry Mining Company of England to prospect for gold in the Mount Shasta area. During his explorations, it was said that he discovered a large tunnel hidden beneath a rock, which sloped downward for
eleven miles into the mountain. According to Brown, at the end of the tunnel was a strange village like complex of caverns which contained machinery of fortune in gold and copper, and twenty seven giant skeletons, some of them as much as ten feet tall. Two were said to be shrouded in robes and appeared to be a queen and a king.
Brown was reported to believe he'd found Telos, the City of Light, or that remained of an ancient lost kingdom called Lemuria, first proposed in eighteen sixty four by zoologist Philip Sclater. Lemuria as a hypothetical lost continent that supposedly sank somewhere beneath the Pacific Ocean. Brown seemed to believe that the remaining le Murians had fled and established the
city under Mount Shasta, but then Brown disappeared. What happened over the next thirty years is unclear, but in nineteen thirty four, in Stockton, California, the local newspaper reported that a man calling himself J. C. Brown was in town preparing an expedition to go back to Mount Shaster. Eighty local men signed on to join the expedition after attending a series of daily lectures apparently given by Brown, who
they described as a cultured gentleman with white hair. Brown told them there were incredible treasures waiting inside the mountain, and so on June ninth, nineteen thirty four, the men assembled at Stockton Harbor, ready to board boats they hoped would take them north to help Brown excavate his discovery, But J. C. Brown didn't show up and was never seen again. To this day, people continued to disappear inexplicably
on and around the mountain. As recently as July one, twenty twenty four, a new missing person's case was opened after a grandmother and her daughter failed to return to their home in Chico, California. Deloras Sakamoto eighty four and her daughter Vivian Luna sixty four were reported missing by a neighbor for some unknown reason. The pair had apparently rushed from their house to go somewhere, leaving food out
on the kitchen counter. Police investigations revealed that on the day of their disappearance, Luna had taken money out of an eight m in Susanville, a two hour drive from their home. Two days later, California Highway Patrol issued an alert for Luna's black Lexus car. The last trace of the pair came from a cell phone tower near Mount Shaster Ski Park. Despite a multi agency search effort, including the use of airplanes, elliicopters, deputies, and sniffer dogs, no
trace of the two women has ever been found. This episode was written by Diane Hope and Richard McLain Smith. Diane is an audio producer and sound recordist in her own right. You can find out more about her work at Dianehope dot com and on Instagram at In the Sound Field unexplained as an Avy Club Productions podcast created by Richard McClain smith. All other elements of the podcast, including the music, are also produced by me. Richard McClain smith.
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