Part 1
In August 2016, 31-year-old Daniel Brener and his wife, 32-year-old Clare Brener, set out on a 4-day backpacking trip into the remote backcountry of Grand Teton National Park. The couple, experienced hikers from Boulder, had planned their route carefully. They intended to traverse the Death Canyon Trail, camp at designated sites, and return to the trailhead by August 18.
Daniel worked as a software engineer for a Denver-based technology company. Clare was a freelance graphic designer who had recently completed a major project and wanted to celebrate with an extended wilderness trip. According to their backcountry permit application filed 2 weeks before departure, they planned to hike approximately 35 miles over 4 days, carrying a tent, sleeping bags, a water filtration system, and enough freeze-dried meals to last the duration of the trip.
They had hiked together for nearly 6 years and had completed multi-day treks in Colorado, Utah, and Montana. Friends and family described them as cautious, well-prepared, and respectful of wilderness protocols.
On the morning of August 15, Daniel and Clare checked in at the Moose Visitors Center, where a ranger reviewed their itinerary and issued a backcountry permit. According to the ranger’s notes, both appeared in good spirits, properly equipped, and familiar with the terrain. The ranger specifically noted that they carried a two-way radio, which was not required but strongly recommended for parties venturing into isolated sections of the park.
The couple’s silver Subaru Outback was left in the Death Canyon trailhead parking area. Security footage from a nearby trail camera captured them beginning their hike at approximately 9:30 a.m. They were last seen by other hikers around 2:00 p.m. that same day, roughly 5 miles into the trail, moving steadily toward the upper canyon.
The weather was clear and warm, with temperatures in the low 70s. There were no reports of storms, unusual animal activity, or environmental hazards that might have posed a threat to experienced backpackers.
When August 18 passed without the couple returning to the trailhead, no immediate alarm was raised. It was not uncommon for hikers to extend their trips by a day or two. However, by the evening of August 19, their vehicle remained in the parking lot and neither Daniel nor Clare had contacted anyone.
Clare’s sister, who lived in Jackson, drove to the trailhead and confirmed that the Subaru was still parked in the same spot. She immediately contacted park rangers and filed a missing person report.
The search operation began early on the morning of August 20. A team of 12 rangers, supported by volunteer search and rescue personnel from Teton County, began combing the Death Canyon Trail and surrounding areas. The initial focus was on the marked campsites along the couple’s planned route. Each site was checked methodically for signs of recent occupation or abandoned gear.
Nothing was found.
There was no tent, no food wrappers, no trace of human presence at any of the designated campsites.
On the second day of the search, a helicopter was deployed to survey the canyon walls, ridgelines, and valley floors. The terrain in this part of the park is rugged and complex, with steep granite cliffs, dense pine forests, and extensive boulder fields that obscure visibility even from the air.
Despite several hours of flight time, no sightings were reported.
Ground teams expanded their search radius, moving into side trails, off-path creek beds, and wildlife corridors. Search dogs were brought in on the third day. Given items of clothing to establish scent profiles, they were released at multiple points along the trail. The dogs showed interest in certain areas but never maintained a sustained track.
By the end of the first week, more than 50 individuals had participated in the search, covering over 100 square miles of wilderness. No physical evidence was recovered. No backpack. No water bottle. No clothing. No equipment.
It was as if Daniel and Clare Brener had vanished into the mountains.
The search continued for another week before being gradually scaled back. By early September, active searching ceased, though the case remained open. Rangers were instructed to remain alert during routine patrols.
The Brener family issued public statements, pleading for information and offering a reward for credible leads. Local media covered the story extensively. Theories circulated. Some suggested a fall or rockslide. Others speculated about wildlife encounters. A few raised the possibility of foul play, though there was no evidence to support it.
The most persistent theory was that the couple had become disoriented, wandered off their planned route, and succumbed to exposure in an area that searchers had not reached.
Grand Teton National Park spans more than 300,000 acres, much of it wild and untracked. Park officials acknowledged that it was possible for someone to become lost and remain undiscovered for years.
As autumn turned to winter, hope faded. The Brener family held a small memorial service in Boulder. Though Daniel and Clare were not declared legally dead, the case file was moved to the inactive section of the Teton County Sheriff’s database.
The Subaru was retrieved and returned to Clare’s sister, who stored it in her garage.
For 2 years, nothing changed.
Then, in late July 2018, a solo backpacker named Trevor Dawson was hiking in a remote area several miles northwest of the Death Canyon Trail. Dawson, an experienced wilderness traveler, had been exploring narrow ravines and rocky outcrops when he noticed a faint but distinct smell of smoke.
It was not the scent of wildfire, but the familiar odor of a small campfire.
He followed the smell uphill through loose scree and scattered boulders. After about 20 minutes, he reached the base of a 40-foot rock face. There, partially obscured by juniper branches and driftwood, was a dark opening.
A cave.
From within, he heard faint sounds—low murmurs, irregular and indistinct.
Dawson called out, identifying himself as a hiker and asking if anyone needed assistance.
The response was immediate and unexpected. A sudden rustling noise, followed by a high-pitched, almost animal-like shriek. Then silence.
He called out again, more cautiously. After a long pause, a hoarse, broken voice emerged from the darkness.
“Go away. They will see you. They will know.”
Alarmed but unwilling to ignore the possibility that someone was in distress, Dawson approached carefully and shone his flashlight into the cave.
Two figures were crouched near the back wall.
They were filthy, their clothing torn and stained with dirt, ash, and what appeared to be dried blood. Their hair was long and matted. The man had an unkempt beard hanging to his chest. The woman’s hair formed a tangled mass around her face.
Both were barefoot. Their feet were blackened and calloused. Their eyes reflected the beam of the flashlight, wide and unblinking.
Dawson spoke softly, asking if they were hurt, if they needed food or water, if he should call for help.
The woman began rocking back and forth, muttering in a repetitive rhythm.
The man shielded his face from the light, then lunged forward in a jerky, uncoordinated motion. He shouted a string of syllables that formed no recognizable words.
Dawson stepped back.
He asked gently if they were Daniel and Clare Brener.
At the mention of the names, the woman stopped rocking. Her head tilted. For a brief moment, recognition flickered across her face. Then she shook her head violently and resumed muttering.
The man retreated deeper into the cave, dragging her with him.
Dawson did not follow.
He backed away and activated the emergency beacon on his satellite communication device. Within minutes, he was connected to dispatch at the Teton County Sheriff’s Office. He reported two individuals living in a cave, appearing severely malnourished and mentally unstable, possibly matching the missing couple from 2016.
A rescue team was mobilized immediately.
By early evening, a helicopter carrying four park rangers and two paramedics was airborne. The terrain prevented a close landing, so the team was dropped approximately half a mile away and hiked in on foot.
When they reached the cave at dusk, Dawson was waiting outside.
Lead ranger Patricia Langford approached cautiously and announced their presence, explaining they were there to help and that no one was in trouble.
After nearly a minute of silence, the man’s voice emerged again.
“We cannot leave,” he said. “They are watching. They will not let us go.”
Langford asked who was watching.
He began speaking rapidly about shapes in the trees, eyes in the rocks, voices at night.
Inside the cave, the woman began to hum—a low, tuneless drone.
Paramedic Joel Pritchard suggested a non-threatening approach. The team placed water and energy bars near the cave entrance and stepped back.
After several minutes, the man crawled forward, grabbed a bottle, and retreated. The sound of desperate gulps echoed from within.
As darkness fell, Langford asked the man his name.
After a long pause, he whispered, “Daniel.”
The confirmation was relayed to base. Clare’s sister was contacted to verify physical descriptions.
The rescue team continued speaking calmly, offering reassurance.
Daniel nodded when asked if he remembered starting a hike in August 2016. Clare stood unsteadily and took a step toward the cave entrance.
Daniel followed.
They were wrapped in thermal blankets and guided down the slope toward the helicopter. Both flinched at the open sky as if it were unfamiliar.
Their extraction took nearly an hour.
They were transported to St. John’s Medical Center in Jackson, arriving just after 10:00 p.m.
Both were severely dehydrated, malnourished, and suffering from exposure-related injuries. Their heart rates were elevated. Their pupils were dilated. They spoke little during the flight.
They were admitted to the intensive care unit under continuous observation.
Over the next 72 hours, their physical conditions began to stabilize.
Their psychological conditions did not.
Clare remained largely silent, staring at walls or rocking gently in bed. Daniel spoke in fragments, referencing watchers, voices, and warnings.
On the fourth day, Clare spoke clearly for the first time.
“They told us not to eat the red ones.”
When asked what she meant, she turned away and said nothing further.
Psychiatrists were brought in.
Over the following weeks, investigators began reconstructing what had happened inside that cave.
Part 2
Two days after the rescue, a forensic team returned to the cave in the remote sector northwest of the Death Canyon Trail to document the site in detail. The area was photographed, mapped, and searched systematically.
The cave measured approximately 15 ft deep and 8 ft wide at its widest point, with a low sloping ceiling that prevented standing upright in most sections. The floor was layered with pine needles, dried grass, leaves, and animal fur, forming a crude bedding area. In one corner, investigators found a small fire pit constructed from stacked stones. It contained charred wood and ash, confirming that Daniel and Clare had maintained controlled fires.
Scattered near the entrance were empty food wrappers from freeze-dried meals. The brands and packaging matched those listed in the couple’s original gear inventory from August 2016. However, the number of wrappers was consistent only with the first few days of their trip. There was no evidence of packaged food sufficient to sustain 2 years of survival.
Further examination revealed animal remains: bones from small rodents, birds, and part of a rabbit skeleton. There were also piles of foraged plant materials, including berries, roots, and fungi. A park ranger trained in botany identified several edible species among the remains, but also documented the presence of toxic and psychoactive plants.
Among them were specimens of Amanita muscaria, commonly known as fly agaric, a mushroom with hallucinogenic properties capable of causing confusion, altered perception, and cognitive impairment. Traces of water hemlock, a highly poisonous plant known to induce seizures and delirium, were also found.
Laboratory testing later confirmed that both Daniel and Clare had consumed plant material containing psychoactive compounds over an extended period.
Investigators recovered a small notebook wedged between rocks near the cave entrance. The early pages contained dated trail notes beginning August 15, 2016. The entries documented routine observations: wildlife sightings, weather conditions, planned campsites.
The final dated entry was August 17, written in Clare’s handwriting. It read:
“Lost the main trail. Followed a deer path thinking it would loop back. Now we are somewhere we do not recognize. The map does not match the terrain. Daniel thinks we should head east toward higher ground. We’ll try in the morning.”
Subsequent pages were undated and increasingly fragmented. Phrases included:
“No signal.”
“Tried twice.”
“Saw smoke but could not reach it.”
“Daniel says we are being followed.”
One page contained a single sentence written in large, uneven letters:
“Do not trust the voices.”
The final pages were nearly illegible. Words overlapped. Sentences trailed off. Among the decipherable phrases were:
“They come at night.”
“The mountain is alive.”
“We cannot leave the circle.”
“Red eyes in the stones.”
On the last page, someone had drawn a rough circular diagram with lines radiating outward, each ending in an “X.” Investigators interpreted it as a possible attempt to map their surroundings or record directions they had tried.
A damaged two-way radio was found partially crushed near the back wall of the cave. The battery compartment was corroded and empty. Whether it had been broken accidentally or deliberately could not be determined. Its condition explained the absence of communication after the early days of their disappearance.
Fragments of original camping gear were also recovered: torn tent fabric, sections of a sleeping bag, and a trekking pole snapped in half. The deterioration suggested prolonged exposure and improvised reuse of materials.
One detail noted in the official report was the absence of distress signals. There were no SOS markers, no rock arrangements, no brightly colored fabric tied to trees. No evidence that they had attempted systematic signaling once settled in the cave.
Detective Laura Simmons of the Teton County Sheriff’s Department reviewed the physical findings alongside medical and psychiatric evaluations. She requested formal competency assessments to determine whether Daniel and Clare could provide reliable accounts.
Dr. Amelia Frost interviewed Clare separately from Daniel. Clare initially responded only in short phrases. Over time, she described the early part of the hike clearly. She remembered checking in at the visitor center, meeting other hikers, and feeling optimistic about the trip.
Her memory blurred after they followed an unmarked path in search of a scenic overlook. The trail narrowed, then disappeared. By late afternoon, they realized they were off course. Attempts to retrace their steps failed. They camped and planned to reorient the next morning.
Clare described hearing sounds that first night. She said they seemed irregular and multi-directional. Daniel believed they might be other hikers, but no one responded to their calls. By morning, both were exhausted and anxious.
They attempted to use the radio but could not establish contact. The terrain did not align with their map. According to Clare, they walked for hours and felt as though they were moving in circles.
She could not clearly explain when they found the cave. It appeared to offer shelter. They intended to stay temporarily.
When asked why they did not simply walk out in a fixed direction, Clare became distressed. She described a growing sensation of dread the farther they moved from the cave. She said it felt physical, as though something in the environment resisted their departure.
She admitted that at some point she could no longer distinguish between fear-based imagination and reality. She acknowledged consuming unfamiliar plants that caused nausea and vivid dreams.
Dr. Frost concluded that Clare demonstrated partial insight into her psychological decline, a positive indicator for recovery.
Daniel’s interviews with Dr. Ian Holloway were more volatile. He described being watched by figures in the trees—tall, thin shapes that shifted when he turned away. He described rules they developed:
Do not leave after dark.
Do not make loud noises.
Do not eat the red berries.
Do not look directly at the shapes.
When asked whether he believed these figures were real, Daniel insisted they were. He stated that breaking the rules resulted in punishment—illness, fear, or the sensation of being chased.
Dr. Holloway noted symptoms consistent with delusional disorder, compounded by environmental stressors and possible chronic intoxication from psychoactive plants.
Both psychiatrists concluded that Daniel and Clare had experienced a shared psychotic disorder precipitated by trauma, isolation, starvation, and toxic ingestion. Their delusions reinforced one another over time.
Detective Simmons constructed a working theory. The couple became disoriented during the second or third day of their hike. Unable to relocate the main trail and unable to communicate due to the damaged radio, they sought shelter in the cave.
Over weeks, malnutrition and exposure weakened them. In desperation, they foraged and ingested toxic and hallucinogenic plants. Their cognitive functioning deteriorated. Fear and isolation amplified paranoia, eventually solidifying into a shared belief system that discouraged leaving the cave.
The cave’s location explained why they had not been found during the 2016 search. It lay outside their registered itinerary and was concealed from aerial view by dense tree cover and rock formations. Ground teams had passed within several miles but had no indication the couple had traveled in that direction.
A wilderness survival expert consulted by investigators confirmed that while extremely difficult, long-term survival in that region was possible due to available water, small game, and shelter—though at severe physical and psychological cost.
The findings were compiled into a comprehensive report submitted to the National Park Service and the Teton County Sheriff’s Department. The case was officially classified as a resolved missing person incident with no evidence of criminal activity.
However, Daniel and Clare’s recovery was only beginning.
After several weeks in the hospital, both were transferred to a specialized psychiatric rehabilitation facility in Idaho. There they began intensive treatment involving trauma-focused therapy, cognitive behavioral interventions, medication management, and nutritional rehabilitation.
Clare experienced nightmares and panic episodes, especially at night. Daniel exhibited paranoia and hypervigilance, frequently checking doors and windows and expressing fear of contamination.
Gradual improvement followed months of structured therapy.
Clare began distinguishing hallucinations from memory. She acknowledged that many of the perceived watchers and environmental threats were products of her deteriorated mental state.
Daniel’s progress was slower. He continued to express uncertainty about whether some experiences had been real. Brain imaging conducted in 2019 later revealed subtle abnormalities in regions associated with fear processing and emotional regulation, consistent with prolonged stress and possible neurotoxicity.
By late 2018, nearly 6 months after their rescue, both were stable enough to transition to outpatient care.
Clare moved in with her sister in Jackson. Daniel returned to his parents’ home in Boulder. Both continued weekly therapy and remained on medication.
Their long-term prognosis remained uncertain.
In 2020, they participated in a therapist-mediated session to process shared trauma. The meeting was described as emotional but constructive. They acknowledged their bond but agreed their romantic relationship could not be rebuilt.
Their divorce was finalized in early 2021.
Recovery would continue, separately.
The mountains where they vanished remained unchanged.
The cave remained in place.
Part 3
By the end of 2018, Daniel and Clare were no longer in inpatient care, but the effects of the two years in isolation continued to define their lives.
Clare remained in Jackson with her sister. She resumed limited freelance graphic design work, accepting only small projects that allowed her to maintain a controlled routine. Her therapists encouraged gradual exposure to normal environments, though she avoided remote areas and refused to hike. Even public parks triggered unease.
In 2019, Clare gave a single interview in which she described the psychological collapse that had overtaken them. She did not focus on the hallucinations or the more sensational aspects of the ordeal. Instead, she emphasized how quickly rational thinking can deteriorate when hunger, exhaustion, and fear combine. She spoke about the way isolation distorts perception and how two people can unintentionally reinforce each other’s worst fears.
She publicly thanked Trevor Dawson, whose decision to investigate the smell of smoke and activate his emergency beacon had led to their rescue. She also acknowledged the rescue team and medical staff who had stabilized them.
Daniel’s path diverged sharply. He returned to Boulder to live with his parents. In late 2019, he attempted to resume work as a software engineer. Within weeks, he resigned. He reported difficulty concentrating, intense anxiety in office environments, and persistent intrusive memories.
He withdrew from most social interaction. According to his family, he spent much of his time reading, sketching, and taking short walks in carefully chosen urban areas. He avoided forests, mountains, and even heavily wooded neighborhoods.
Therapists documented ongoing hypervigilance and sensory flashbacks. At times, Daniel described feeling as though he were back in the cave—hearing imagined sounds or sensing a presence that he intellectually understood was not real.
In 2020, under clinical supervision, Daniel and Clare participated in a mediated therapeutic session designed to help them separate their shared trauma from their individual identities. The meeting was described by Dr. Frost as necessary but emotionally taxing.
They discussed the early days of being lost, the slow erosion of certainty, and the fear that had hardened into shared belief. They acknowledged that, at some point, their survival strategies had become mechanisms of confinement.
Both expressed guilt—Clare for not insisting on leaving sooner, Daniel for reinforcing rules that deepened their isolation. Neither assigned blame to the other.
They agreed that continuing their marriage would tether them permanently to the trauma. Their divorce was finalized quietly in early 2021.
By 2022, Daniel had moved into a small apartment outside Denver. He maintained structured routines and attended therapy regularly. He began writing privately as a form of processing, though he did not publish his work.
Clare pursued a different direction. In 2021, she co-founded a nonprofit organization focused on supporting families of missing persons and individuals who had survived traumatic wilderness incidents. The organization provided counseling referrals, educational materials on wilderness safety, and advocacy for expanded search protocols.
She became a speaker at outdoor safety conferences, emphasizing preparation, communication, and psychological awareness. She did not return to hiking and did not revisit Grand Teton National Park.
The case attracted academic attention. Psychiatric journals analyzed the couple’s shared psychotic episode and the reinforcing dynamics of extreme isolation. Wilderness medicine specialists examined the physiological impact of prolonged malnutrition and toxic plant ingestion.
Brain imaging conducted in 2019 revealed subtle abnormalities in Daniel’s amygdala and related regions associated with fear regulation. Physicians concluded that starvation and possible chronic ingestion of psychoactive substances likely contributed to long-term neurological effects.
The National Park Service implemented procedural updates following the case. Extended search grids were expanded beyond registered itineraries. Greater emphasis was placed on drone surveillance and thermal imaging. Visitor centers increased warnings regarding plant foraging and the psychological consequences of prolonged isolation.
Public interest in the case remained strong. Some speculated about unexplained elements in Daniel’s descriptions of watchers and rules. Experts consistently attributed those experiences to documented effects of starvation, dehydration, plant toxicity, and shared psychosis.
In the fall of 2023, Trevor Dawson published a memoir recounting the day he discovered the cave. He described the moment he shone his flashlight into the darkness and saw two figures who appeared more feral than human. He wrote about the responsibility he felt and the relief of knowing he had acted quickly.
The memoir reached a national audience and renewed attention to the case.
As of 2024, Daniel and Clare live separate lives shaped permanently by their disappearance.
Both continue to experience symptoms consistent with post-traumatic stress disorder. Both have shown measurable cognitive recovery, though neither returned fully to their pre-2016 baseline.
The question of agency remains central to discussions of their case. In the first days of being lost, they made rational attempts to navigate, signal, and survive. Over time, physical decline and psychological deterioration impaired judgment. The delusions that kept them near the cave were not strategic decisions but manifestations of a compromised mind.
Investigators concluded that no crime had occurred. No third party had intervened. The disappearance resulted from navigational error, equipment failure, environmental exposure, toxic ingestion, and progressive psychological collapse.
The cave itself remains unmarked to the public but is recorded on internal park maps. Rangers occasionally inspect the site during patrols. It stands as a reminder of how close search teams came in 2016 without finding them.
Grand Teton National Park continues to draw hundreds of thousands of visitors each year. Most leave with photographs and stories of scenery. A small number do not return.
Daniel and Clare Brener fall into a rare category—those who vanish, are presumed lost to the wilderness, and reappear years later altered by survival.
Their case illustrates the fragility of cognition under extreme stress. It demonstrates how quickly certainty can erode and how isolation can transform fear into structure and structure into confinement.
It also shows that survival is not synonymous with recovery.
They endured.
They were found.
And they continue, separately, to live with what the mountains left behind.
