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In the summer of 2017, two climbers ascending the eastern face of Mount Hooker in Wyoming’s Wind River Range discovered something that would rewrite the story of a disappearance that had haunted the mountaineering community for 4 years.

Suspended nearly 800 ft above the ground, frozen in time on the sheer granite wall were two portal edges, their fabric weathered and torn by years of wind and ice.

Inside each hanging tent was a sleeping bag, and within those bags were the remains of two people who had simply vanished without a trace.

The discovery would reveal a mystery far darker than anyone had imagined.

On July 15th, 2013, 28-year-old structural engineer David Kramer and his girlfriend, 26-year-old medical student Jessica Parson, left the small town of Lander, Wyoming, with plans to attempt a 5-day climb up Mount Hooker’s notorious eastern wall.

The couple had been climbing together for 3 years and were known in their local climbing community as cautious, experienced, and well-prepared.

David worked for a construction firm in Boulder, Colorado, and Jessica was in her final year of residency at Denver General Hospital.

They had saved for months to take this trip, scheduling it during Jessica’s only week off that summer.

According to the owner of the Wild Peak Climbing Shop in Lander, the couple came in 2 days before their climb to purchase additional gear.

The shop owner, Thomas Green, later told investigators that they spent over an hour reviewing their equipment list, checking ropes, carabiners, and their portal edges, the hanging tents that would serve as their beds on the vertical wall.

Thomas remembered that David seemed particularly focused on weather forecasts, asking multiple times about incoming storms.

Jessica was quieter, but she smiled often and seemed excited.

They bought extra water purification tablets, energy bars, and a backup headlamp.

Thomas said they looked like any other experienced team preparing for a big wall climb, thorough, careful, and confident.

On the morning of July 16th, David and Jessica checked out of the mountain rest in where they had stayed for two nights.

The motel manager, an older woman named Clare Hudson, recalled that the couple left early around 5:30 in the morning.

They were carrying massive backpacks filled with climbing gear, ropes, food, and camping equipment.

Clare asked them when they planned to return, and David told her they would be back by July 21st at the latest.

He paid for the room in advance and left a contact number for his brother in case of emergency.

Clare said they both seemed in good spirits, talking about the route and the views they would see from the wall.

The drive to the trail head took about 90 minutes.

David’s blue Ford truck was later found parked at the base access point, locked and undisturbed.

Inside the glove compartment was a handwritten note with their planned route, emergency contacts, and an estimated return date of July 20th or 21st.

The note also included a reference to their climbing permits, which had been filed with the Bridger Teton National Forest Service 3 weeks earlier.

Everything was in order.

Everything was planned.

On the afternoon of July 16th, a group of dayhikers saw two climbers beginning their ascent on the lower section of Mount Hooker’s east face.

The hikers did not speak to them, but watched for several minutes as the pair moved steadily upward, one blaying while the other climbed.

The description matched David and Jessica, one wearing a red helmet, the other in blue.

That was the last confirmed sighting of them alive.

By July 22nd, when the couple had not returned, David’s brother, Andrew Kramer, a 32-year-old accountant from Fort Collins, drove to Lander and contacted the Fremont County Sheriff’s Office.

Deputy Sheriff Raymond Cole, took the initial report and noted that the couple was now 2 days overdue.

He immediately coordinated with the National Park Search and Rescue Team.

Within hours, a search operation was launched.

The search team included 15 people, park rangers, volunteer climbers, and two helicopter pilots experienced in mountain rescue.

They focused on the eastern wall of Mount Hooker, a granite face over 1,200 ft high, known for its technical difficulty and unpredictable weather.

The helicopters flew close to the wall, scanning for any signs of the climbers, bright clothing, gear, or movement.

They found nothing.

Ground teams hiked to the base and began searching the lower sections of the wall and the surrounding forest.

On the third day of the search, rescuers discovered a single climbing anchor wedged into a crack about 300 ft up the wall.

It was new, consistent with the type of gear David and Jessica had purchased.

But there were no ropes attached, no signs of a fall, and no other equipment nearby.

It was as if they had simply started climbing and then disappeared into the rock itself.

The search continued for 2 weeks.

Teams scoured the base of the wall looking for bodies or gear that might have fallen.

Helicopters returned again and again, flying in different light conditions, hoping to spot something that had been missed.

Volunteers checked every ledge, every crack, every possible place where a climber might have taken shelter or become stranded.

They found nothing.

No clothing, no backpacks, no ropes, no bodies.

The forest and the mountain offered no answers.

On August 5th, 2013, the official search was suspended.

The case was classified as a missing person’s investigation and the file was left open.

Deputy Cole, who had led much of the ground operation, told reporters that the couple had likely fallen from the wall and their bodies had landed in a location that was inaccessible or hidden by terrain.

He suggested that further searches would be conducted in the spring when snow melted and visibility improved.

But spring came and nothing changed.

In 2014, Andrew Kramer returned to Wyoming and hired a private search team.

They spent a week combing the area with drones and climbing specialists.

They found old gear from other climbers, remnants of campsites, and weathered ropes, but nothing that belonged to David or Jessica.

The investigation went cold.

Theories spread among the climbing community.

Some believed the couple had been caught in a sudden rockfall.

Others thought they might have miscalculated their route and become stranded on an unclimbable section of the wall.

A few suggested that they had fallen during the night and their bodies had been carried away by wildlife or buried under shifting debris.

But none of these theories explained the complete absence of evidence.

In online forums and at climbing gatherings, people still mention their names.

two skilled climbers who had simply vanished on a wall that dozens of others had climbed before and after them.

Jessica’s mother, Linda Parson, a retired school teacher from Pennsylvania, kept a small website updated with photos of her daughter and please for information.

Every few months, she would post a new message asking anyone who climbed in the Wind River Range to keep an eye out for any signs.

David’s father, a quiet man named Gerald Kramer, visited the mountain twice a year, hiking to the base and sitting for hours, staring up at the wall where his son had last been seen.

Neither family held a funeral.

Without bodies, they couldn’t bring themselves to say goodbye.

The years passed slowly.

By 2016, most people had accepted that David Kramer and Jessica Parson were gone, lost somewhere in the wilderness, their final moments known only to the mountain.

Then on June 8th, 2017, two experienced climbers from California, 34year-old photographer Nathan Cross and his climbing partner, 29-year-old software engineer Riley Webb, began their own attempt on Mount Hooker’s eastern face.

They had planned the climb for over a year, studying route maps and reading reports from previous ascents.

Neither of them knew about the couple who had disappeared 4 years earlier.

They started their climb early in the morning, moving efficiently up the lower pitches.

By midafternoon, they had reached a point about 600 ft up the wall and were preparing to set up their portal edge for the night.

Nathan was leading a pitch when he noticed something unusual about 200 ft above and to his right.

At first, he thought it was a shadow or a discoloration in the rock.

But as he climbed higher and the angle changed, he realized he was looking at fabric weathered in gray flapping slightly in the wind.

He called down to Riley who was bellaying from below and told him what he saw.

They decided to finish the pitch and then traverse across the wall to investigate.

It took them nearly an hour to reach the spot.

What they found stopped them cold.

Suspended on the granite face were two portal edges hanging side by side about 15 ft apart.

The fabric of the tents was torn in places, faded by years of sun and wind.

The aluminum frames were still intact, holding the platform steady against the wall.

Nathan pulled himself level with the first portal edge and looked inside.

There, partially visible through the open flap of a sleeping bag, was a human skull.

The rest of the skeleton was still enclosed in the bag, the bones undisturbed, as if the person had simply gone to sleep and never woken up.

Nathan’s hands were shaking as he clipped into the anchor point and called out to Riley.

His voice, according to Riley’s later testimony, was barely steady.

Riley climbed across and looked into the second portal edge.

Inside was another sleeping bag, and inside that bag was another skeleton.

Both bodies were still dressed in climbing clothing, the synthetic materials preserved by the cold and dry air.

There were no signs of trauma, no visible injuries, no indication of a struggle or a fall.

The climbers looked as if they had simply laid down to rest.

Nathan took several photographs with his camera, careful not to disturb anything.

Then he and Riley retreated to a ledge about 50 ft below and called for help using a satellite phone.

The call was received by the Fremont County Sheriff’s Office at 4:47 in the afternoon.

Deputy Raymond Cole, now a senior officer, immediately recognized the location.

He had been part of the original search in 2013 and knew that this was likely the missing couple.

A helicopter was dispatched within the hour, but the location of the portal edges made a direct recovery impossible.

The wall was too steep and the anchors too fragile to risk landing or lowering rescue personnel from above.

It was decided that a specialized recovery team would ascend the wall.

the following morning.

That night, Nathan and Riley stayed on the wall, setting up their own portal edge about 100 ft below the site.

Neither of them slept much.

Riley later said that the wind sounded different that night, as if the mountain itself was exhaling something it had held for too long.

On the morning of June 9th, a team of five climbers, including two forensic specialists and a deputy sheriff, began the ascent.

They reached the portal edges by early afternoon.

The lead investigator, a forensic expert named Dr.

Paul Jennings, carefully documented the scene before anything was moved.

His report, later filed with the county coroner, described the site in detail.

Both portal edges were securely anchored to the wall using bolts and cams placed in the rock.

The anchors showed no signs of failure or slippage.

The sleeping bags were highquality models designed for cold weather, and both were zipped closed from the inside.

Inside the first portal edge, the skeleton was lying on its back, arms at its sides.

The clothing included a thermal base layer, a fleece jacket, and climbing pants.

A small headlamp was clipped to the edge of the sleeping bag, its battery long dead.

Next to the body was a water bottle, empty, and a small notebook with a pen tucked inside.

The second portal edge contained a similar scene.

The body was positioned almost identically, lying flat with the sleeping bag zipped up.

There was a halfeaten energy bar in a plastic wrapper near the head of the bag, and a pair of gloves tucked under the edge of the sleeping pad.

Both portal ledges also contained climbing gear, ropes coiled neatly, carabiners organized on a gear loop, and a small stuff sack with personal items.

Dr.

Jennings noted that there were no signs of panic, no scattered equipment, and no indication that either person had tried to escape or call for help.

Everything was orderly, almost peaceful.

The bodies were carefully removed from the sleeping bags and lowered to the base of the wall in separate operations that took most of the day.

By evening, both remains had been transported to the state medical examiner’s office in Cheyenne.

The portal edges and all the gear were also taken as evidence.

That same day, Deputy Cole contacted Andrew Kramer and Linda Parson.

According to his report, both families had been waiting for this call for four years, but hearing it was no less devastating.

Andrew asked only one question.

Were they together? Cole told him yes.

The next morning, dental records confirmed what everyone already knew.

The remains belonged to David Kramer and Jessica Parson.

The news spread quickly.

Local and national media picked up the story and within days it was being discussed on climbing forums, news websites, and social media.

The mystery of how two experienced climbers could disappear on a well-traveled route and remain undiscovered for 4 years captivated the public.

But the bigger question was why? Why had they died in their sleeping bags with no signs of injury or distress? The medical examiner’s office began a full investigation.

Dr.

Raymond Hol, the chief examiner, conducted autopsies on both sets of remains.

His findings were released 3 weeks later in a detailed report.

Both skeletons showed no signs of trauma, no broken bones, no fractures, no evidence of a fall or a strike from rockfall.

The teeth were intact, the skulls undamaged.

Toxicology tests were impossible due to the decomposition of soft tissue, but Dr.

Dr.

Holt was able to analyze bone marrow and residual material from the stomach area.

In both cases, he found traces of a substance that gave him pause.

It was a compound consistent with over-the-counter pain medication, but in concentrations that suggested a significant quantity had been ingested.

He could not determine whether the levels were lethal, but he noted in his report that the findings were unusual.

The clothing and gear were examined by a forensic analyst named Tracy Gwyn, who specialized in outdoor and survival equipment.

Her report noted that all the gear was in excellent condition, well-maintained, and appropriate for the climb.

The ropes showed no signs of damage or where that would suggest a fall.

The anchors were placed correctly, and the portal ledges were set up according to standard practice.

There was no mechanical failure, no equipment malfunction.

Everything had worked exactly as it should have.

But Tracy found something else.

In the small notebook recovered from David’s portal edge, there were entries written in pencil.

The handwriting was shaky in places but legible.

The notebook had been kept in a waterproof pouch which preserved it despite years of exposure.

When investigators opened it, they found a log of the climb written day by day.

The first entry was dated July 16th, 2013 and read, “Day one started climb at 7:00 a.

m.

Weather clear.

Made good progress.

Reached first bivvie site by 4 p.

m.

Feeling strong.

Jess is happy.

Everything going smooth.

” The second entry dated July 17th.

Was similar in tone.

Day two woke at dawn.

Continued up the main dihedral.

Rock quality good.

Placed solid pro.

Reached 500 ft by midday.

set portal edges early weather still holding beautiful sunset were right on schedule.

The third entry dated July 18th was where the tone began to shift.

Day three Jess woke up with a headache gave her ibuprofen.

She says it’s just altitude.

We’re moving slower today.

Made it another 150 ft.

Sky is getting hazy.

Might be weather coming in.

We’ll assess in the morning.

The fourth entry July 19th was shorter and the handwriting less steady.

Day four.

Jess is worse.

Says her head is pounding, nausea, dizziness.

I don’t think it’s altitude.

We’re not that high.

Gave her more meds.

She’s resting now.

I’m going to wait and see how she feels tonight.

If she’s not better, we might have to descend.

The fifth entry dated July 20th.

Was only a few lines.

Day five.

Just can’t climb.

She’s too weak.

Throwing up.

Can’t keep water down.

I’m scared.

Tried the satphone.

No signal.

We’re too close to the wall.

Going to try to get her down, but she can’t move.

She keeps saying she’s sorry.

I told her, “It’s okay.

We’ll figure it out.

” The final entry, dated July 21st, was written in a shaky, nearly illeible scrawl.

She’s not waking up.

I gave her everything I had, all the meds.

She’s breathing, but barely.

I can’t get her down alone.

I tried calling again.

Nothing.

It’s getting cold.

I’m staying with her.

I’m not leaving her.

If anyone finds this, we didn’t fall.

We didn’t fail.

She just got sick.

Tell her mom we love the mountains.

Tell my brother I’m sorry.

The notebook ended there.

When Deputy Cole read the entries aloud to the investigative team, the room went silent.

The pieces were falling into place, but the picture they formed was heartbreaking.

Dr.

Holt reviewed the findings again in light of the journal.

He consulted with specialists in wilderness medicine and high alitude pathology.

His supplemental report issued in early July 2017, concluded that Jessica Parson had likely suffered from a sudden and severe medical event, possibly cerebral edema, a condition where fluid builds up in the brain or a rapid infection that caused neurological symptoms.

Without proper medical intervention, the condition would have been fatal.

The high concentration of pain medication in both bodies suggested that David had given Jessica everything he had to try to ease her suffering.

And when she died, he had taken the rest himself, choosing not to attempt a solo descent.

The scenario was consistent with the evidence.

Jessica had become ill.

David had stayed with her, and when it became clear she would not survive, he made the decision to remain by her side.

The report stated, “The positioning of the bodies, the lack of trauma, and the written account all indicate that the male subject chose to stay with the female subject until the end and subsequently succumbed either to exposure, dehydration, or intentional overdose.

It was not a murder.

It was not an accident in the traditional sense.

It was a tragedy born of love and isolation.

If you’re finding this story as haunting as we are, please take a moment to like this video and subscribe to the channel so you never miss stories that reveal the thin line between adventure and tragedy.

The families were given the full reports.

Andrew Kramer read his brother’s journal entries and wept.

He told investigators that David had always been protective, always the kind of person who would never leave someone behind.

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