The Last Days of 2 Friends Who Went Missing on a Hike, What Happened?

In 2014, two adventurous young women from the Netherlands, Kris Kremers and Lisanne Froon, set off on what was meant to be the trip of a lifetime—a journey through Panama to explore, learn, and give back. Their plan was filled with optimism: they’d saved for over a year, intending to volunteer with children, learn Spanish, and immerse themselves in the vibrant local culture. But their dream quickly spiraled into one of the most unsettling and mysterious missing person cases of the last decade.

Kris and Lisanne arrived in Panama on March 29, settling in the quaint highland town of Boquete near the Baru volcano. Surrounded by lush jungle and breathtaking views, it seemed like the perfect place to begin their gap year. They were warmly welcomed by a host family and excited to start their volunteer work. However, when their position at a local school was unexpectedly delayed, it left them with time on their hands. Eager to explore, they took recommendations from locals and began hiking the region’s scenic trails.

On April 1, they set out on the popular Pianista Trail, a route known for its beauty and accessibility. They left around 11 a.m. dressed casually, with small backpacks—clearly intending only a short trip. But that would be the last day anyone saw them alive.

When the girls failed to return that evening, their host family became worried. Their absence from a scheduled meeting with a local tour guide the next day confirmed something was terribly wrong. A massive search operation began, involving local police, volunteers, search dogs, helicopters, and eventually investigators from the Netherlands. For ten days, the jungles were combed. Flyers were posted. A $30,000 reward was offered. Yet, not a trace of the girls could be found.

Weeks passed with no answers—until a local woman walking near a remote river in Alto Romero stumbled upon a blue backpack. It was intact, strangely unaffected by the rain and elements. Inside were personal belongings: two bras, sunglasses, a water bottle, both of the girls’ phones, and a camera. The backpack belonged to Lisanne. The contents were both a breakthrough—and a chilling clue.

Phone records revealed that, beginning around 4:30 p.m. on the very day they vanished, someone attempted to call emergency services dozens of times. Out of over 80 attempts, only one call briefly connected. Even more unnerving, after April 6, attempts were made using Kris’s phone—but the incorrect PIN was entered repeatedly. It suggested that Kris may no longer have been alive, and someone else—perhaps Lisanne—was trying to access the phone in desperation.

Then came the photos.

The digital camera held 133 images. Most were taken on April 1, showing the friends smiling, hiking, unaware of the fate that awaited them. The final photo of that day captured Kris in a small ravine, surrounded by dense forest. Seven days later, the camera was turned on again—this time to capture 90 disturbing images taken in the dead of night. The pictures were mostly dark and blurry: jungle terrain, rocks, twigs, sky. One showed what appeared to be the back of Kris’s head, streaked with blood. Another image captured a plastic bag suspended from a branch, almost as if marking a trail. The photos raised more questions than answers.

On June 19, more devastating evidence emerged. Human remains were found near the same river. A boot containing Lisanne’s foot. A piece of Kris’s pelvic bone. DNA confirmed the worst. The remains were scattered, partially decomposed, but provided no clear explanation for what happened. Panamanian authorities eventually suggested the women may have fallen from one of the region’s treacherous “monkey bridges”—slippery, makeshift crossings over rushing rivers. But with no definitive injuries to support the theory, it remained just that—a theory.

Speculation erupted across the internet. Was it an accident, or was someone else involved? Could they have gotten lost and succumbed to exposure? Or was something far darker lurking in that jungle?

Despite years of analysis, international media attention, and amateur sleuths trying to reconstruct the timeline, the truth remains elusive. Investigators and forensic teams uncovered fragments of a story—distress calls, night photos, scattered bones—but never the whole narrative.

To this day, the fate of Kris Kremers and Lisanne Froon is an open wound for their families. Their disappearance reminds us that nature can be as dangerous as it is beautiful, and that even the best-prepared travelers can fall victim to forces beyond their control. What was supposed to be a joyful, life-changing journey turned into a tragic mystery that continues to haunt investigators and readers alike.

Their story is not just one of loss, but of two bright young lives cut short under circumstances too chilling to fully understand. It’s a cautionary tale, a plea for vigilance, and, for those left behind, a reminder to never stop asking what really happened on that hike in the Panamanian jungle.