Young Backpacker Disappeared in Bitterroot Range — 29 Years Later, FBI Finds This Inside Eagle’s Nest

If you love true wilderness mysteries, disappearances, and stories that unravel across decades, subscribe and join us as we step into the shadowed heart of the Bitterroot Range—a place where trails vanish, and sometimes, so do people.

June 18, 1995: The Vanishing of Simon Greavves

The rain had only just stopped when Simon Greavves, a 26-year-old backpacker, crouched beside a cracked wooden post deep in Montana’s Bitterroot Range. The sky was bruised and heavy, the forest hushed. Before him stood a strange trail marker: a tree circled in a ring, no arrow, no name. Simon had checked every map—this path wasn’t on any of them. Yet the ground was packed, the way real trails are, and it led into the fog-choked valley.

He hesitated, then raised his camera. The shutter snapped—Simon’s last known act.

Two weeks later, search teams found his tent four miles off course. Sleeping bag zipped, campfire cold, backpack untouched. No Simon. No sign. Only a single roll of undeveloped film: the final image, a blurred path that didn’t exist, and a shadowy figure among the trees.

September 2, 2024: A New Discovery

Leah Madson and Mason, two seasoned hikers, found themselves off-course near Lost Horse Creek. The trail split in a way it shouldn’t have. No signs, no blazes—just silence and an uneasy sense of being watched. They pressed on, discovering a collapsed signpost with something buried beneath: a battered 1990s trail camera, sealed and miraculously intact.

Back at camp, Leah turned the old 35mm film in her hands, Mason already texting a friend at the University of Montana’s photo lab. That night, Leah dreamt of camera flashes in the woods and a whisper: Turn back.

September 3, 2024: The Film is Developed

In the red-lit darkness of the university photo lab, the negatives revealed a haunting sequence: trees, streams, a narrow trail—then a man, back turned, standing in the shadows. In each successive frame, he drew closer. Then, abruptly, the camera seemed to drop, the images dissolving into static.

Leah’s stomach turned. This was Simon’s film—his last moments, and someone (or something) watching him.

The Search Rekindled

With the evidence in hand, Leah and Mason returned to the Bitterroot, determined to follow the hidden trail. The forest was different now—every shadow felt heavier, every silence deeper. They found old trail blazes, remnants of camps, and finally, the abandoned ranger cabin from the 1970s. Inside, a sealed note:
If anyone finds this, he’s not gone. I saw him. He was standing across the creek. Same place. Three days in a row, watching, not moving. Don’t follow the ridge. It doesn’t come back.

Into the Ridge: The Path of No Return

Ignoring the warning, Leah and Mason pressed up the overgrown ridge path. They found a campsite, a belt buckle with “SG” etched beneath, and a cairn of stones—each marked with a tally, counting something… or someone.

Beyond the cairn, the forest grew silent. They found a stone bench, “Greavves” barely legible, and beneath it, a hidden roll of negatives. The photos showed the bench from afar—and in one, a tall, shadowy figure standing behind it, watching.

The Watcher in the Woods

As Leah and Mason camped near the bench, they felt eyes on them. The next day, they found fresh footprints—someone was following. Back at the ranger cabin, a new fire smoldered. On a rock sat a freshly printed photo: the same bench, the same shadowy figure, now circled in ink. You’re looking in the wrong direction, it read.

Taped to their car at the trailhead was another photo: Leah and Mason at the cairn, taken from above. Someone had been watching them all along.

The Hidden Cabin and the Truth

Guided by old maps and ranger Ward’s memories, Leah and Mason found a hidden off-grid cabin. Inside: decades of surveillance photos, maps, and a Forest Service ID—Charles Kellerman, a ranger who vanished in ‘97. He had been living there, watching hikers, documenting every disappearance.

One map traced a spiral to a spot marked, Everything ends here.

The Final Descent

At the spiral’s center, Leah and Mason found the remains of a shelter: a door, half-buried, carved with the words He followed me back. In a hollow log, they found a digital camera with a memory card. The images were chilling—years of hikers, all unaware, all watched. The last photo: a man screaming in terror, a tall, blurred figure in the trees behind him.

Bringing the Story to Light

With evidence in hand—photos, artifacts, names—Leah and Mason returned to the ranger station. They published everything: Simon’s last photo, the cairn, the watcher. The story went live, a digital archive for the missing and their families.

People wrote in:
I saw something like this in the Sawtooths in ‘98.
My sister vanished in Glacier—her last photo showed someone in the trees.

The mystery wasn’t closed. But now, at last, it was known.

Epilogue: The Ridge Remembers

On the ridge, the drone’s camera caught a final image: a lone figure, unmoving, face hidden in shadow, standing above the scarred pine. Then, as if knowing it was seen, it vanished.

Some trails don’t end. They wait—silent, patient—for the next person to walk too far and find the watcher in the woods.

If you hike the Bitterroot, remember: not every trail is on the map. And not every shadow is empty.