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03.2014 BACKPACKER 73 their daughter return. But when they tried stopping Aubrey again, she summoned the voice that indicated, on this one, she was the authority. “Guys,” she said. “Don’t worry. It’s a national park. It’s teahouse trekking. It’s safe.” A F T E R S A Y I N G G O O D B Y E to Renzin and leaving Namaste, Aubrey continued hiking alone, ascending the valley. Here, she may have seen other people—a smattering of trekkers, the ubiquitous porters, Tamang families in trail shoes donated by travelers. Te path narrows above Namaste and then crosses the Langtang River on a suspension bridge. From there the track switchbacks up a steep, sof-dirt hillside, where a person could slip and tumble into the churning rapids. But Aubrey didn’t slip, ac- cording to witnesses who saw her at another village several hours up the trail. (National parks in Nepal are not empty wilderness areas.) At Lama Hotel—actually a town of a half-dozen teahouses fanked by a vegetable garden, prayer fags, and a tent platform overlooking the deep, shadowy val- ley—she may have aired her feet, or layered up against the cold air coming of the silver river. Locals later reported seeing her eating a pizza, drinking a Coke, and holding the book Renzin had given her. In the Sherpa Lodge, according to locals, Aubrey sat down at a long wooden table. Tree young men, in their late teens and early 20s, struck up a conversation. At frst it was lighthearted. But when Aubrey said that she wanted to continue to the next village, Riverside, the atmosphere allegedly turned sour. It was early afernoon, and Tasi Lama, one of the men, told Au- brey that Riverside was too far for her to trek to safely so late in the day. But this was Aubrey, who in her journal described herself as a “strong traveling woman. ” On the table she’d spread out her map. When the men tried stop- ping her again, she stood up, pointed up the valley, and said, “Riverside is only an hour from here. Don’t lie to me.” And she lef. Te walk from Lama Hotel to Riverside usually takes about two hours for a reasonably ft person. When trekkers reach a teahouse there, they’re en- couraged to sign a register. But Aubrey lef no signature at Riverside. Tere’s no evidence she ever made it. Did she decide to go farther? Te next village, Ghora Tabela, is another two hours beyond. It’s also the location of an Army checkpost (near where the French girls reported be- ing assaulted by soldiers). But Aubrey didn’t sign this mandatory register either. Somewhere between Lama Hotel and Ghora Tabela, she disappeared. Te Saccos learned what had occurred at Lama Hotel from Ramesh BK, a local kayaking guide who questioned villagers in the weeks afer Paul’s initial search. When nothing came of the informa- tion through ofcial channels, Paul returned to Ne- pal with Connie and their younger son, Morgan, in July 2011. Again, they trekked up the Langtang Val- ley. Inside the dim, hazy Sherpa Lodge, the Saccos questioned the owner, the cook, and one of the boys, Tasi Lama. According to BK, all three had confrmed seeing Aubrey a year earlier. But now their stories changed. Te owner and cook claimed never to have seen Aubrey. Tasi Lama said, “We don’t remember seeing this girl, but if we had known she was going to go missing, we wouldn’t have let her leave.” When the Saccos tried questioning the cook again, Connie says the owner’s wife screamed, “Don’t answer!” Paul and Connie felt betrayed. Angry. But mostly, Left to right: Aubrey Sacco in Mysore, India, where she volunteered at an orphanage and taught kids the Hokey Pokey; Lama Hotel, the village w here disputed ac counts place Aubrey on the last day she was seen; an Army checkpost en route to Langtang National Park. According to the U.S. Embassy, dozens of West- ern trekkers have vanished on popular trekking routes in the last decade.