1) Gigi Wu (Taiwan) — The “Bikini Hiker” Tragedy

On January 11, 2019, Gigi Wu set off on a two-day hike through Yushan National Park in central Taiwan—never realizing it would be her final trip.

After getting there by three trains and a bus, she stayed overnight at a budget hotel popular with hikers.

Instead of packing the usual safety gear many hikers carry, her backpack was filled mostly with camera equipment and food to get her through the adventure.

She planned to begin on a familiar route known as the Batongguan Historic Trail, but she had no idea what was coming.

In this episode, we’re looking at some of the most controversial—and horrifying—disasters involving four different women hiking alone.

What happened to these experienced hikers? Would these stories have ended differently if they hadn’t been solo? Viewer discretion is advised.

Hiking is a powerful way to connect with nature, and Gigi took that to another level—she became famous for hiking in a bikini.

Known for climbing some of Taiwan’s highest and most difficult peaks, what began as a dare after losing a bet eventually became her trademark.

She gained a huge following for her boldness and love of adventure, but her style also drew criticism.

Many argued that hiking in a bikini was risky and irresponsible, especially in cold conditions.

Some reports claimed she would change into a bikini at the summit and post photos online.

Despite the backlash, Gigi kept hiking.

To her, the bikini represented freedom and joy—the celebration after doing something incredibly hard.

Then, her story took a tragic turn.

On January 11, 2019, she started another hike in Yushan National Park—this time attempting a remote, difficult section of the park.

The terrain there is steep, rugged, and unpredictable.

Worse, one source claimed she left the permitted route and went onto an unsanctioned, dangerous trail that neither she nor her usual hiking partners had previously attempted.

Before leaving, she checked the forecast with a weather reporter, who told her the skies would be clear on the 18th and 19th—the hardest days of her trip.

On the first of those days, right before she planned to split off and descend the northwest face of Jupin Mountain (10,223 feet), she posted a photo on Facebook: a blanket of clouds, captioned “celebrating today.”

On January 19, while traversing the remote Batongguan Historic Trail, she reached around 8,000 feet and planned to descend to 5,000 feet.

That’s when she slipped and fell into a ravine about 65 feet deep.

She was badly injured and unable to move.

With what strength she had left, she used a satellite phone to call a friend and report her situation and location.

But rescue efforts were delayed.

After the distress message, her location was difficult to pinpoint, and hiking solo made everything harder—there was no partner to confirm her last known movements in real time.

When her friends reported her missing, it still took time for authorities to launch a full search.

The weather became a disaster of its own: heavy snow and fierce winds kept search teams from entering the area.

The rough terrain and lack of GPS tracking also meant rescuers had to rely on outdated maps and educated guesses about where she might be.

They searched for two long days.

On the morning of January 21, they found her.

She was lying on her back, eyes closed, with frozen blood around her mouth—no breath, no pulse, skin cold to the touch.

Her backpack was nearby.

Her satellite phone and cell phone were on her right side, and a flashlight was tied to her left wrist.

The evidence indicated she died of hypothermia.

Hypothermia can sneak up in winter mountains.

It happens when the body loses heat faster than it can produce it.

At first you lose coordination, then clear thinking, and eventually consciousness.

For Gigi—injured, trapped in a ravine, and alone in freezing conditions—this was a hiker’s nightmare.

So why is her story so controversial?

Because after her death, headlines fixated on “the bikini climber.” Many people blamed her, assuming her bikini image somehow contributed to her fall or reduced her chance of survival.

Others rushed to judge without understanding the facts—turning her death into a spectacle about clothing.

But here’s the reality: she was not wearing a bikini when she fell. She was in proper hiking gear.

Her outfit didn’t cause her death.

The real issue was the danger of hiking alone in remote terrain—where even a successful call for help can still end in tragedy if weather and terrain slow rescue teams down.

She was close to rescue, but not close enough.

Helicopters couldn’t reach her immediately, so crews had to fight their way in on foot.

By the time they arrived—more than 40 hours later—hypothermia had already taken over.

Her story is a reminder: the mountains can be breathtaking—and unforgiving—at the same time.

2) Geraldine “Inchworm” Largay (USA) — Lost Near the Appalachian Trail

As shocking as Gigi’s story is, it isn’t the only one that left people wondering how everything went so wrong.

Geraldine Largay, a retired nurse, set out to hike the Appalachian Trail—and what happened to her still haunts hikers.

Jerry, as her friends called her, grew up in Tennessee and lived a fairly typical life: years working as a nurse, a husband, and a daughter.

She wasn’t a professional hiker, but she loved the outdoors.

Even in her 60s, she frequently hiked with her friend Jane Lee.

The two met in 2011 and quickly bonded.

They didn’t just hike miles together—they also wrote haikus during their trips, turning hikes into something creative, joyful, and funny.

Jane was the more confident navigator; Jerry brought enthusiasm, resilience, and—at times—disorientation.

Jerry dreamed of tackling the Appalachian Trail, a 2,000+ mile route stretching from Georgia to Maine.

Many hikers complete it in sections, while others attempt a full thru-hike.

Jerry, true to her pace, moved slowly and earned the trail nickname “Inchworm.”

In July 2013, Jerry and Jane were hiking a remote, difficult stretch in Maine, known for rough terrain and isolation.

After a long hike, Jane had to leave suddenly due to a family emergency.

Jerry decided to continue alone, planning to meet Jane farther up the trail.

Jane worried, because Jerry was prone to getting turned around.

Jerry left a shelter near Poplar Ridge, heading north—and at some point that day, she wandered off the trail.

Maybe she stepped off for a bathroom break.

Maybe she got disoriented in the dense forest.

Whatever the cause, she became truly lost.

And this is the terrifying kind of lost: the trees look identical in every direction, the canopy darkens the world, and you can’t find your way back because you no longer know where you came from.

Jerry tried calling for help, but there was no cell service.

She did what she could: stayed put, set up a small campsite, rationed food, and tried to send texts to her husband—hoping they might somehow go through.

One message said:

“In some trouble.

Got off the trail to go to the bathroom.

Now lost.

Can you call the Appalachian Mountain Club to see if a trail maintainer can help me… somewhere north of Woods Road.

XOXO.”

But the messages never sent.

Her family reported her missing, and a massive search began: volunteers, helicopters, dogs—everything.

They searched for two weeks and found nothing.

The most haunting part? Jerry was only a couple miles off the trail.

In dense woods, “a couple miles” can be a different universe.

People asked: How did they not find her sooner? Was the search not thorough enough? How could she disappear in a well-traveled area?

In 2015, a U.S.

Navy forester discovered her remains not far from where searchers had looked—along with her journal.

She had survived for 26 days, waiting for rescue that never came.

Her case reignited debates: Should she have been hiking alone? Did age matter most? Was the search handled properly? And what about technology—would a satellite communicator or personal locator beacon have saved her?

3) Kris Kremers & Lisanne Froon (Panama) — A Disappearance That Still Sparks Debate

The next story challenges the idea that age was the main factor in Jerry’s case.

In April 2014, Kris Kremers (21) and Lisanne Froon (22)—two Dutch friends—set off on an adventure that would change everything.

Kris was artistic and deeply interested in social causes.

After earning her degree in cultural social education, she wanted to experience new cultures, learn, and contribute.

Lisanne, who had graduated in applied psychology, shared that same drive for growth and adventure.

They saved money for months, arrived in Panama on March 15, 2014, traveled for two weeks, and then settled in Boquete, living with a local host family for a month while volunteering with children.

Their life there was full: work, volunteering, meeting friends, brunches, and hikes.

One of those hikes was on the El Pianista Trail, near the cloud forests around the Baru Volcano region—lush rainforest, towering mountains, and fast-changing conditions.

They went hiking with their host family’s dog.

But things went wrong.

On the night of April 1, the dog returned home alone.

The host family immediately sensed something was wrong.

They searched nearby but waited until morning to search more thoroughly.

The next day, the women missed an appointment with a local guide.

The host family alerted authorities, and local villagers and the host family began searching.

The families in the Netherlands were informed, and by April 6, the parents arrived in Panama along with Dutch police units and investigators.

A major search followed for days.

The families also offered a $30,000 reward for information.

On April 8, a breakthrough: searchers found a backpack along the trail containing Lisanne’s camera and belongings.

Hope surged—until the camera images were reviewed.

Early photos showed a joyful hike.

Later images—taken in darkness with flash—showed frightening, unsettling scenes that suggested they were lost and in distress.

As the search continued, the jungle proved brutal: dense vegetation, steep terrain, and unpredictable weather.

Weeks passed.

Then, by June 2014, some of their remains were found in a remote area.

The exact cause of death was unclear, and speculation exploded.

Some believed they died from exposure and the elements; others suspected foul play.

The scattered nature of the remains and unanswered questions only deepened the mystery: Why did they get lost? Why couldn’t they find the trail back? Did they encounter anyone? What happened in the days between?

Their disappearance left a lasting impact on hikers worldwide, reinforcing the need for preparation and caution—even in beautiful places.

4) Susan Clements (USA) — Separated on a Popular Trail, Found in a Ravine

The last story involves a mother-and-daughter hike in the same mountain range connected to Jerry’s case.

Susan Clements, a 53-year-old mother of three, went hiking with her 20-year-old daughter on Tuesday, September 25, 2018, near Clingmans Dome in Great Smoky Mountains National Park.

Clingmans Dome is the highest point in the park at 6,643 feet, famous for scenic views and heavy visitor traffic.

Susan was experienced and comfortable on Smokies trails.

They chose the Forney Ridge Trail, which runs from Clingmans Dome to Andrews Bald—about 1.8 miles—popular and well-traveled, ending in an open meadow with panoramic views.

As the day went on, Susan and her daughter briefly split up, agreeing to meet at the parking lot only a quarter mile away.

It should have been routine.

But when her daughter arrived, Susan wasn’t there.

After waiting and realizing something was wrong, her daughter reported her missing to park officials.

What followed became one of the largest searches in the park’s history: more than 125 rescue personnel, including rangers, volunteers, K9 units, helicopters with infrared, and drones.

Teams combed trails and off-trail areas in steep, densely forested terrain.

The Smokies are beautiful—but harsh.

Thick canopy, deep ravines, and sudden weather shifts can disorient even experienced hikers.

At night, temperatures drop quickly at higher elevations, and rescuers knew time was critical.

After days with no sign, hope began to fade.

On October 2, 2018, after seven days, Susan’s body was found about two miles west of the Clingmans Dome parking lot—down a steep, heavily vegetated ravine in the Hughes Creek drainage.

The area was so overgrown that searchers had struggled to enter it earlier.

An autopsy determined she died of hypothermia.

Officials concluded she likely became disoriented after leaving the Forney Ridge Trail and wandered into remote, rugged terrain.

The combination of cold and difficult access proved fatal.

She was not the first person to die or disappear in that wilderness.

Her case highlighted how quickly things can go wrong—and how even a short hike can turn life-threatening without essential gear like a map, compass, GPS device, extra layers, and a flashlight.

The wild can be stunning, and it can be deadly.

Thanks for watching, and I’ll see you in the next one.

Stay bold—and live brave.