Murder: True Crime Stories - MYSTERY: The Dyatlov Pass Incident

Episode Date: January 16, 2026

In the winter of 1959, nine experienced Soviet hikers vanished in the Ural Mountains—and what rescuers later found defied logic. Their tent had been cut open from the inside, their bodies lay scattered barefoot across the snow, and several suffered catastrophic injuries with no clear cause. In this episode of Murder: True Crime Stories, Carter Roy explores the chilling discovery at Dyatlov Pass, the Soviet investigation that blamed an “insurmountable force of nature,” and the decades of theories that followed—from secret military tests and UFO sightings to avalanches and infrasound-induced panic. More than 60 years later, the question remains: what really drove these hikers into the frozen night? If you’re new here, don’t forget to follow Murder True Crime Stories to never miss a case! For Ad-free listening and early access to episodes, subscribe to Crime House+ on Apple Podcasts. Murder True Crime Stories is a Crime House Original Podcast, powered by PAVE Studios 🎧 Need More to Binge?  Listen to other Crime House Originals Clues, Crimes Of…, Killer Minds, Crime House Daily and Crimes and more wherever you get your podcasts! Follow me on Social Instagram: @Crimehouse TikTok: @Crimehouse Facebook: @crimehousestudios YouTube: @crimehousestudios To learn more about listener data and our privacy practices visit: https://www.audacyinc.com/privacy-policy Learn more about your ad choices. Visit https://podcastchoices.com/adchoices

Hi, Crime House community. It's Vanessa Richardson. Exciting news, conspiracy theories, cults and crimes is leveling up. Starting the week of January 12th, you'll be getting two episodes every week. Wednesdays, we unravel the conspiracy or the cult, and on Fridays we look at a corresponding crime. Every week has a theme. Tech, bioterror, power, paranoia, you name it. Follow conspiracy theories, cults and crimes now on your podcast app, because you're about to dive deeper, get weirder, and go darker than ever before. This is crime house.

A missing tongue, footprints in the snow, unexplainable injuries, and a tent that was somehow still standing. When nine young Soviet hikers went missing in the Ural Mountains in the winter of 1959, the country rallied to find them. Eventually they did, but the hikers hadn't survived. In the immediate aftermath of the tragedy, Soviet officials declared their cause of death, quote, an insurmountable force of nature.

The report was chillingly vague, and it opened the door for lots of theories to emerge. Things like a secret military experiment gone wrong, a UFO encounter, or a Yeti attack were floated for years. Even now, more than six decades later, we're still not sure what really happened on that snowy peak. But one thing seems clear. It was anything but natural. Welcome to the story of Dietlophe Pass. People's lives are like a story. There's a beginning, a middle, and an end. But you don't always know which part you're on.

Sometimes the final chapter arrives far too soon, and we don't always get to know the real ending. I'm Carter Roy, and this is Murder True Crime Stories, a crime house original powered by Pave Studios. New episodes come at every Tuesday, Thursday, and Friday. Thank you for being part of the crimehouse community. please rate, review, and follow the show, and for early, add free access to every episode, subscribe to Crime House Plus on Apple Podcasts. This is the first episode of Murder Mystery Fridays, where I'm covering unsolved cases with questions that I can't get out of my head,

and the ones where the evidence points in multiple directions, and every theory feels like a possibility. Today, I'm discussing the Dietlough Pass incident, one of Russia's most enduring mysteries and a story that's never sat quite right with me. In 1959, nine young hikers died under very strange circumstances in the northern mountains of Soviet Russia. Their tent was found torn open from the inside. Their bodies lay scattered across the snow.

Some were barefoot, some were half-dressed, and some had sustained injuries so severe they defied explanation. Investigators found no sign of struggle, no footprints but their own. For decades, no one knew what drove them out into the night or what truly killed them. That is, until 2019, when the answer. finally felt within reach. All that and more coming up. On January 23rd, 1959, 23-year-old Igor Dietlof packed his bags

and lashed his skis together. He had a big day ahead of him. Igor was a quiet but magnetic engineering student at the Soviet Union's Ural Polytechnic Institute, or UPI. but his true passion was the great outdoors. As a member of the school's hiking club, Igor was famous for his technical skills and for the way people instinctively followed his lead. That day, he and eight other students were getting ready for an expedition.

But this wasn't just another trip for Igor. It was a test, a trial that would cement his reputation. as one of the best young mountaineers in the country. Over the next 16 days, Igor would lead his team across 190 miles of mountainous terrain in an attempt to reach the peak of Mount O'Torten. If everything went as planned, they'd return home with the highest hiking certification in the Soviet Union, grade three. The people Igor had chosen to go with him were strong. incapable and very smart.

26-year-old Alexander Kolevatov studied nuclear physics. 21-year-old Yuri Dornchenko focused on radio engineering. And 23-year-old Nikolai Thibobrino had graduated with a civil construction degree. Georgi Kravonashenko, a 23-year-old hydraulics and construction student, also joined them. Georgie was the joker of the group and insisted. on bringing his mandolin, which is like a small guitar, to keep spirits high. There were only two women, 22-year-old Zena Kolmogarova, and 20-year-old Luda Dubaninja. Zena was another radio engineering student, and she was tasked with keeping a diary of their journey.

Meanwhile, Luda studied construction economics, a field that combines engineering, management, and finance. Ludo was known for her endurance on long hikes. Once she'd been accidentally shot in the leg during a hunting trip, then she joked her way along her 50-mile rescue trip through Siberia's mountains. The final two members were 23-year-old Roosteem Slobodin, who'd already graduated with a mechanical engineering degree, and 21-year-old Yuri Udin, who was studying economics. Yuri was probably the weakest link.

He suffered from rheumatism, heart issues, and had bad knees. Despite all that, he found freedom in hiking and swore he would be able to make it through the trip. Once everyone was ready to go, the group of nine students made their way from their dorms to the local train station in the city of Verdlask. When they got on board, they noticed one, unfortunately. familiar face among them. A last-minute edition. Sasha Zolotagriov was 37 years old, had gold teeth and was covered in tattoos. A hiking instructor and World War II veteran, he bore the weight of experience in his weathered features. If his age or his looks

concerned the rest of the hikers, they didn't show it. Igor knew what he was doing. If he was fine with Sasha coming, they knew he'd make a good addition. Besides, you didn't need to be a student to go on the expedition. The hiking certification was given out by the government, not the university, so Sasha could lend some valuable experience. The next day, in the early morning hours of January 24, 1959, they all disembarked in Sarov, a grim industrial town buried in frost and smoke. They'd already been traveling for nearly 11 hours, and they still had a long layover before their next train north. The hikers were desperate to get some rest. They'd planned to just nap in the train station, but the staff told them it was against the rules, so the group set out

in search of shelter. Eventually, they struck a deal with a nearby elementary school. They could sleep in a classroom that morning in exchange for giving a talk. to the students later that day. The kids ended up loving them. The group spoke about their upcoming adventure and sang songs. They even promised to stop by on their way home to tell the students all about their journey. When it was time to catch their train, the children poured out of the schoolhouse to wave goodbye as the ten hikers walked back to the station. That evening, they boarded the 630 train bound for Eve Dell.

a remote mining town. They arrived about five hours later and spent the night huddled in the station. The next morning, January 25th, they packed up, ate what they could, and boarded their last train to the settlement of Vigé. In every Siberian town, Igor made a point to visit the forest workers since they knew the land the best. And Vige, that man was 53-year-old Ivan Remple. Remple warned Igor and the others that the winter winds beyond the ridge were deadly, the kind that could lift a person off their feet and hurl them into a ravine. Igor just smiled.

This was what they'd come for. A challenge. He thanked Remple, copied one of his detailed maps, and turned to his friends. They were ready. Butts, not all of them were doing well. Yuri Udn's old pains had returned. His back throbbed with every step,

and a familiar stiffness crept down his legs. He tried to hide it, but Igor could see the pain on his face. That afternoon, they all piled into the open bed of a truck bound for a logging camp called Sector 41. This would be their final stop before beginning their hike. It was a brutal three-hour ride through freezing wind and rutted roads. Every jolt of the tire sent a knife of pain through Uden's spine. By the time they arrived, he knew the truth.

He couldn't go any further. On January 28, 1959, Yuri Uden said goodbye to his friends. The group helped him load his pack for the long trip home. He watched as they skied away into the white expanse, nine figures shrinking into the snow. He was the last person who would ever see them alive. From there, the only witnesses were the hikers themselves,

their cameras, and their diary. The entries from those first few days of the journey paint a picture of camaraderie, exhaustion, and cold. They joked about who got to sleep closest to the stove and talked about how often they had to stop to scrape ice from their boots and skis. For two days, they followed a hunting trail cut through the forest by the Monsee, the indigenous people of the Urals. But on the third day, the weather turned. The wind roared through the forest. The trees, snow fell in sheets, and visibility dropped to almost zero. The hikers argued, doubled back and searched for better ground.

As night fell and they realized all they could do was set up camp, share a warm meal, and plan to regroup in the morning. On January 31st, eight days after they left Schwerdlofts, they began climbing toward the base of Ortorten Mountain, known as dead mountain in the Monsee's native language. The ascent was steep and the snow was heavy. To move faster, Igor implemented a system he called path treading. Each hiker took turns walking ahead to stamp down the snow for five minutes,

then fell back to rest as another person took their place. Still, it was slow going. By late afternoon, they descended. into a valley where the trees thinned and the wind softened. They built a fire from damp fir branches and ate dinner inside their tent. Igor wrote in the diary that it was hard to imagine such a cozy place anywhere. The next morning, February 1st, they began building a Labaz, which is a storage cache for food and supplies they'd collect on their way back. This meant they could climb the summit without any unnecessary weight in their packs.

The hikers left behind spare boots, extra skis, a first aid kit, and Georgie's beloved mandolin. The last photos of the group show them skiing single file in a blinding white snowy haze toward the unknown. As the light faded, they set up camp on an open slope, an east-facing stretch of snow. that would catch the morning sun. They pitched their tent, cooked a final meal, and settled in for the night.

Outside, the temperature plunge below zero. The wind screamed across the mountainside. Igor Diatlov and his team knew the weather conditions would make their journey even more dangerous. But they were confident in their abilities. Deep down, they knew that they could overcome any challenge. make their climb and earn their coveted hiking certifications.

Unfortunately, they were wrong. On the afternoon of February 1, 1959, 23-year-old Igor Diatlov and eight other hikers set up camp on a snowy open slope in the Ural Mountains. They planned to summit O'Torten Mountain, then returned to the Ural Polytechnic Institute on February 13th, where they would earn their grade three hiking certification, the highest in the Soviet Union. But by February 16th, three days after they were supposed to return home, no one had heard from them. Igor's sister, 21-year-old Rufina, was one of the first people to sound the alarm. She knew in her gut that something had gone wrong. She'd already tried to convince

the faculty at UPI to send out a search party, but they brushed her off. They told her that delays happen all the time and that Igor could have decided to extend the trip. Rufina insisted that her brother was an expert hiker and knew how important it was to communicate any changes. If he'd adjusted their plans, someone in their group would have hiked back to civilization to send a letter or a telegram. The next day, After more pleading from Rufina, the university finally sent a telegram to Vige, the last known settlement before the mountains. The reply from Vigé arrived at the university on February 18th.

It read, The Diatlov Group did not return. Now, Rufina wasn't the only one who was worried. Two days later, on February 20th, 1959, the university launched a formal search. Helicopters took off from Sferlask with volunteers and hiking experts. They flew north toward the Urales, scanning ridges and slopes along what they assumed to be the group's trail, but days passed with no sign of the hikers.

They expanded the search to include the local Monsee people who knew the region best. The Monseys were led by. tribesman Stepan Kurikov. With their help, the team had their first breakthrough on February 25th. Boris Lubstaff, a 22-year-old member of the University Hiking Club, spotted ski tracks in the distance. He and the others trudged through the snow following the tracks uphill. That led them to a tent, half buried and collapsed. It clearly belonged to the hikers. inside, everything looked normal. Food was laid out, clothing was folded in corners,

and diaries were stacked and organized. At first glance, it seemed like the group had just left a search for firewood or relieved themselves in the snow. But a closer look told a different, scarier story. The backside of the canvas had been slashed a few times and ultimately sliced open from the inside. It was obvious. The students hadn't calmly left the tent.

They'd run away from it. The next day, February 26th, more volunteers arrived to help search. Approximately 20 yards away from the tent, they found nine sets of preserved footprints, one for each of the hikers. They extended nearly half, half a mile toward the valley before eventually disappearing.

Strangely enough, the tracks didn't look like they were made by boots, but bare feet, which meant the hikers had exited the tent without shoes and stepped onto the freezing snow. It was bizarre, and that afternoon, another search party discovered something even more disturbing. There was a spot beneath a cedar tree that looked kind of off. The branches were charred and there were traces of a small fire pit. It was haphazard and had clearly been made in a bind. Just north of the pit, a volunteer spotted something sticking out of the snow. When they approached it, they realized it was a human knee.

Eventually, the volunteers of the volunteers. uncovered two male bodies. As expected, they weren't wearing shoes. But they also weren't wearing jackets or pants. Whatever they had run from had come on fast. One man was face down. His arms tucked beneath his head almost like a pillow. The other was face up on his back.

His eyes and mouth had been gouged, probably by a scavenging bird. Despite the injuries to his face, the hiker was still recognizable as Georgi Krivonashenko. The body next to him was identified as Yuri Doroshenko. The first two hikers had officially been found. But there were seven more to go. The searchers moved farther away from Yuri and Georgi. and before long they came upon Igor Dietloff, his frozen hands clutching a birch tree as though he'd been fighting against the storm.

Nearby, they discovered Zena Komagarova. She was on her right side, face down in the snow, her face dark with dried blood. Like the others, she wore no shoes, though she still had on a hat, ski jacket, and ski pants. several days later between where they'd found Igor and Zena searchers discovered the body of Rustum Slobodin Rustim was more clothed than the others wearing a sweater, ski pants, a hat, and several pairs of socks his right leg had frozen beneath him, his right fist pulled to his chest.

He looked like he'd been fighting and crawling in the direction of the tent. a giant bruise darkened the front of his skull, suggesting he'd sustained a powerful blow of some kind. The discoveries led to early theories about what had happened. Perhaps a blizzard forced the hikers from the tent, or maybe they were swept away by an avalanche. But the questions remain. If wind or snow drove them out, how was the tent still there? Why were their supplies left untouched? Why were so many of them shoeless and why did the victims look injured?

Unfortunately, the autopsies didn't shed much light on the tragedy. The results came in the first week of March. The coroner ruled that Igor, Zena, Yuri, Georgi, and Rustum had all died of hypothermia. But they also had external and indifference. internal injuries suggesting something more violent had taken place. It was confusing, but investigators thought the other four hikers might be the key to finding the answer. The search continued throughout March and April and was slow going, but then on May 3rd,

Stepan Kurakov, the Monsee tribesman, came across some unusual-looking branches. hundreds of yards away from where the first five bodies had been found. The branches looked like they'd been cuts with a knife, and about six yards away, there was a disturbed patch of snow. The crew started digging, and before long, they discovered a pile of fabric. An inside-out, gray vest, a pair of knitted pants, A brown sweater, one trouser leg, and the long bandage were all bundled together. The volunteers dug around expecting to find bodies.

Instead, they only found more clothing, the rest of the trousers and half of a woman's sweater. The clothes definitely belonged to the Deatloff team. Fellow students recognized them, and they were later compared to photos from the group's cameras. but where were the hikers themselves? The searchers spent several more days digging until suddenly a shovel hit something solid. The first body they found was nearly unrecognizable from water and snow-induced decomposition.

Nearby, there were three more bodies. The only one they could immediately identify was Luda, the construction economics student who was known for her strength and positive attitude she still wore her hat two sweaters pants and two pairs of socks but just on one foot the other was wrapped in a torn sweater luda's face was battered and her mouth was stained dark red a closer look revealed something truly disturbing. Luda's tongue was missing. The other two bodies were partially embracing Luda like they'd all been huddling together for warmth. Unfortunately, they were too ravaged to identify at that point. On May 8th, the bodies were taken to Eve Dell, the

town at the foot of the Ural Mountains. The medical examiner identified the first body as Alexander Kolevatov, the nuclear physics student, he had died of hypothermia. The two men who had wrapped themselves around Luda were Nicolay Tibobrino, the civil construction graduate, and Sasha Zolotagriov, the late addition to the group. Luda, Nicolay, and Sasha had all suffered incredibly violent injuries, so their causes of death weren't as clear-cut. In addition to her missing tongue, Luda's rib cage was shattered, and her heart had ruptured. Sasha's ribs were crushed inward, and Nicolet's skull was fractured. It was clear that these injuries weren't caused by cold or exposure. The medical examiner

determined that some sort of large, violent force had caused the damage while the victims were alive, and that those injuries were what ultimately killed them. But the source of that violent force, well, that was still a mystery. In the days that followed, lead investigator Lev Ivanov studied the evidence with growing disbelief. The tent had been slashed open from the inside, Nine sets of mostly bare footprints trailed into the darkness, supplies, boots, and clothing were left behind. Fires had been lit, but quickly extinguished. The hikers fled into minus 30 degrees Celsius temperatures, which is about negative 22 Fahrenheit. There was no sign of an intruder, no known avalanche, and no physical struggle.

By mid-May, 1959, about three months after the hikers disappeared, their cause of death was announced as, quote, an insurmountable force of nature. Rumors spread quickly through Sferlovsk. Families whispered about government cover-ups. Soldiers hinted that strange lights were seen in the sky that night. Others claimed the hikers had stumbled onto a secret weapons test. but ultimately the case file was sealed.

The mountains were closed to visitors and the answers to the mystery remained buried. Too deep to dig out. Hi, ghosties, I'm Macy and I'm Natalie. Have you ever had an experience so strange, maybe even frightening, that you just couldn't explain, strange noises in the night, shadows moving in the corner of your vision,

or that chilling sensation that you aren't alone as you walk into an empty room. Well, over at Ghosties, we like to drink tea while spilling the tea on all things paranormal. So if you love the thrill of a good scare, you can join us every Monday and Thursday for a new episode of Ghosties wherever you get your podcasts.

In February 1959, nine hikers died in the Ural Mountains of the Soviet Union. According to the medical examiner, six had died of hypothermia and three from violent injuries. The Soviet government ruled that the last three deaths were the result of an unknown force of nature, then closed the investigation.

But that didn't mean the story was over. The victim's friends and family were left with a lot of questions, and the most important one was also the most puzzling. What had caused these experienced hikers to leave their tent in the first place? An attack by members of the Monsee tribe was a briefly floated, but the Monsee were a peaceful people and incredibly helpful in the search for the missing students. It didn't make sense that they would target them. Alexei Kravonashenko, Georgi's father, had a different, more supernatural theory. He first heard about it from two other hikers who had recently made their own expedition into the northern Urales. On the night of February 1st, the same night Georgi and his companions

presumably died, the hikers witnessed an extraordinary light in the sky over the Ural Mountains. They said the glow was so bright they had to shield their eyes, and they weren't the only people who saw the mysterious light. Other hikers who'd been in the Ural's between early and mid-February reported seeing the same thing. These accounts caught the attention of investigators at the Eve-Dell prosecutor's office, who soon began calling in witnesses from across the region. One by one, they spoke of strange, glowing objects, most often described as slow-moving orbs pulsing in the night sky. Were they UFOs? Soviet missile tests gone awry? No one knew for sure, and no one could agree. Most witnesses said they saw the lights on February 7,

not on the first like those two hikers had claimed. Even then, the sheer number and consistency of the accounts made the theory hard to ignore. It seemed like whatever it happened in the sky had something to do with the Dietlough group's deaths. And soon, the authorities got even more evidence that seemed to prove it. In mid-March, about 20 days after the first hikers were found, investigators developed the roles of film recovered from the hikers' cameras. Most of them didn't offer much information, but the final image from Georgie's camera shocked them.

Picture was blurry, but it appeared to show a glowing, indistinct light source, dominating one side of the frame. To believers, this was pretty, proof that Georgie must have photographed the orb so many others had reported seeing. Unfortunately, later examination of the photo told a different story. The round shape was nothing more than a lens flare. The blurring was consistent with an accidental exposure, possibly taken when someone had mishandled the camera in the dark.

As the orb theory began to lose credibility, the focus shifted to a different, more grounded idea. Radiation poisoning. After all, this took place during the height of the Cold War, the time when the Soviet Union was competing with the United States for nuclear supremacy. The Ural Mountains were vast and remote. It seemed like a pretty good place to conduct top secret military experiments. That led some people to wonder if Igor's group,

had been the victims of a classified Soviet weapons test that ended in disaster. Maybe that would explain their panic and intense injuries. It was terrifying, but possible, especially because when the hikers' clothing was tested, several garments showed elevated levels of radiation. In his report, Sferdlov's chief municipal radiologist wrote that the level of contaminant contamination exceeded standards for people working with radioactive substances. It was the kind of result that invited speculation and the kind of rumor that Soviet authorities did not want circulating. And so just as the investigation seemed on the verge of a breakthrough,

everything stopped. On May 28, 1959, one day before the final radiation report, were supposed to be released, Lev Ivanov, the lead investigator on the Dietlof case, was told to stop the inquiry immediately. No further tests, no new reports. For the next 51 years, there was no movement in the case. But even then, the mystery of Deatlov Pass lingered, and there were still plenty of people who were determined to uncover the truth. In 2010, American author and documentary filmmaker Donnie Icar learned about the Diatloff tragedy and became obsessed with cracking the case. Luckily for him, a lot had changed since those nine hikers perished.

In 1991, the Soviet Union collapsed and Russia took its place. The new government was less secretive and more open to outside investigation. That's probably why Donnie was able to get his hands on the original radiation test reports. He sent those to Dr. Christopher Strauss and Associate Professor of Radiology at the University of Chicago Medical Center. Donnie was eager to learn if the radiation poisoning theory held any water all these years later. And according to Dr. Strauss, it didn't. He said the levels of beta particle decay. on the hikers' clothes were completely normal.

In fact, those readings would have had to be at least 50 times higher to be considered unusual, let alone harmful. It's not clear if the standards in 1959 were different or if the Soviet radiologist had made a mistake. But Dr. Strauss also had an explanation for why there were even traces of radiation on the hikers in the first place. He said the contamination probably came from environmental fallout. That winter in 1959, nuclear tests were conducted on the islands of Noviah Zemlya,

roughly 850 miles north of where the hikers met their ends. Through the air, the snow, and the water cycle, those particles could have drifted south, settling invisibly across the Ural's, but not in levels dangerous enough to harm someone. So, with the radiation theory debunked, Donnie Eikar continued his investigation. It would take him across the United States, out to Russia, and ultimately to the very same slope on which the hiker's tent was found 53 years earlier. Along the way, he was able to rule out plenty of other theories that had popped up over the years.

On one idea was that the hikers might have suffered carbon monoxide poisoning inside the tent that a poorly ventilated stove had filled the air with toxic fumes. But Donnie discovered that the group had not started a fire that night. Their portable stove hadn't been used and still sat unassembled among their supplies in the tent. Plus there was no smoke damage, no soot, no evidence of heat. There were also rumors of a wild animal attack. Some suggested a bear, a wolf, or even the mythical Yeti had torn into the tent, driving the hikers out in terror, but there were no signs that a struggle had taken place.

The tent had been sliced open from the inside, not the exterior, and the body showed no bite marks or claw wounds. The only possible animal interaction was the removal of Luda's tongue. which investigators assumed was eaten by rodents after she died. The one theory that seemed the most plausible was also the least exciting. The hikers may simply have been victims of an avalanche. They pitched their tent high on a slope, so maybe they'd heard the ominous groan of shifting snow above them

and fled into the freezing dark trying to outrun it. In 2012, Vladimir Borkinsov, an aviation engineer, investigator, and one of the foremost experts on the Diatlov case, decided to test the theory. Using GPS data, he calculated the mountain slope with precision. What he found left little room for doubt. The runout angle, otherwise known as the distant snow would travel once released, was incredibly. flat. Because of this, an avalanche simply couldn't move far enough or fast enough to reach the camp. Plus, while the tent was partially collapsed, it was still standing, and its contents were undisturbed. No avalanche could have passed over it without flattening everything in its path.

Even back in 1959, investigators had dismissed the idea entirely. There were no telltale fractures, no debris fields, no displaced snow. And in the years since, Donnie could find no record of an avalanche ever having been documented on that mountain slope. Running out of options, Donnie tried something no one had been able to do so far. get an interview with Yuri Uden. Now in his mid-70s, Uden had been the last person to see the Diatlav group alive before he left the hike because of his chronic pain.

Tracking Uden down wasn't easy. At some point, he'd become a recluse, whether he was overcome with the survivor's guilt, annoyed by all the questions about the hikers, or simply grown older, Huden made it clear he didn't want to be found. But Donnie was determined he spent years trying to get in touch with Yuri, and eventually he succeeded. In February 2012, 53 years after the Dietlough group went missing, Donnie met with Yuri in Russia

for an interview. After covering the basics, Donnie asked Yuri the question everyone had wanted to. to know what did he think happened to his friends. Yuri said he didn't think they died in an accident or by natural causes. To him, the explanation was far darker. Yuri believed that maybe the group had crossed into a restricted area and that armed men had found them.

He thought they saw something they shouldn't have and were killed because of it. In Uri's mind, the scene on the mountain had been staged. His friends were coerced, forced to walk into the forest half-dressed in order to destroy their own clothing to create confusion, then abandoned to die in the cold. Uri's main piece of evidence was Luda's missing tongue. Investigators had always assumed it had either decomposed or had been eaten by animals, but Yuri didn't buy that. He thought that strong-willed, outspoken Luda had been singled out.

She had talked too much and been punished for it. There were other small discrepancies that fueled Yuri's theory. Luda's beloved good luck charm, the tiny stuffed hedgehog she always carried, had not been found with her. The hiker's chocolate rations were also missing, with no wrappers left behind. To Yuri, these were traces of human interference, signs of looting or concealment. Someone had taken these things, thinking no one would notice.

Donnie listened, but he wasn't convinced. After the interview, he looked into Yuri's claims and confirmed what he'd suspected all along, Yuri was almost certainly wrong. The hedgehog toy had been logged as evidence, and Luda's tongue wasn't cut out. It was missing due to natural decomposition. Her body had been laying in the partially melted snow for weeks. During that time, water and microorganisms had eroded the soft tissue. Even the missing chocolate had a mundane answer.

When Donnie interviewed searchers from the original, original 1959 recovery, two of them admitted that they'd found the hikers' chocolate, eaten it, and pocketed the rappers as they continued on their mission. To Donnie, it felt like every theory fell apart as soon as it was examined. By 2013, after traveling to Russia, interviewing Yuri Udun in talking to countless experts, he was almost ready to give up. Then, his research led him toward a stranger, but even more realistic theory, a phenomenon called infrasound. Infrasound is the inverse of ultrasound and exists below the range of human hearing. But even though we can't hear it, we can feel it.

These low-frequency waves can occur naturally in the world as byproducts of earthquakes, landslides, and storms. man-made infrasound is also possible. It can happen via ventilation systems, wind farms, and machinery, and at certain intensities, infrasound can wreak havoc on the human body, producing nausea, disorientation, panic, and in extreme cases, psychological collapse. During his research, Donnie learned that some governments had experimented with infrasound

in the past. Nazi Germany had once used low-frequency sound to manipulate crowds at political rallies and had experimented with it as a form of weaponized torture. Donnie wondered if the Diatlov hikers were victims of an infrasound attack, either in the form of a test by the Soviet government or in a naturally occurring scenario due to the wind conditions on the mountain. He reached out to Dr. Alfred J. Bedard Jr. He was a senior scientist and infrasonic specialist at the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration, NOAA in Boulder, Colorado, and had spent decades studying how these frequencies behave. If anyone could determine whether infrasound had played a role in the hikers' deaths, it was him. Dr. Bedard confirmed that, under the

the right conditions, an infrasound incident could have occurred on the mountain. Then, he asked Donnie if he had ever heard of something called a Carmen vortex. Dr. Bedard explained that a Carmen vortex is a rare meteorological pattern. It forms when wind passes a blunt object of a particular shape and speed, creating alternating spirals of air. These spirals are essentially miniature tornadoes that roll away in two parallel lines. They can create strong vibrations in the air, and sometimes they generate infrasound. As they studied Donnie's photographs of the campsite, Dr. Bedard noticed something striking. The mountain summit had a perfectly symmetrical, rounded dome.

exactly the kind of shape that could produce a Carmen vortex under the right wind conditions. The tense location just below that dome placed the hikers directly in the path of those invisible vortices. In other words, it was a perfect setup for disaster. Donnie was stunned. Baderd was telling him that his infrasound theory wasn't just possible, but probable. Together, they imagined what the hikers might have experienced

inside their tent that night. There would have been a sudden gust of wind, then a low, thrumming vibration in the ground. Suddenly, a roar as loud as a freight train would have passed from west to east. The canvas walls of the tents would have started to tremble, and the hiker's chests would have been vibrating with sub-audible pressure. Another roar from the north would have increased their growing panic, their breath would have tightened their hearts,

would have pounded, and the terror would have started to override reason. Dr. Bedard believed that this could explain everything. The panic, the confusion, the frantic decision to come. cut their way out into the cold. The hikers weren't running from an avalanche or an intruder. They were fleeing from sound itself from the deep, invisible pressure waves of the mountain wind. For more than 60 years, the story of the Diatlough Pass has haunted those who heard it. Nine experienced hikers vanished into a snowstorm, never to be heard from again.

Families demanded answers. Investigators chased leads that faded into the cold. Over time, the case turned into more than a tragedy. It became a legend. Donnie Eicher and Dr. Bedard's infrasound theory offered a logical explanation that bridge science and circumstance. Unfortunately, experts are split on whether infrasound can actually cause this level. of psychological distress, and the Russian government seemed to think it couldn't.

In 2019, Russian officials reopened the investigation and returned to an old theory that a rare type of slab avalanche had forced the hikers out of their tent, prompting them to run out into the cold. This verdict, like all others, remains highly disputed. Most experts agree that the conditions weren't right for an avalanche, but as far as the Russian government is concerned, that's what happened. The truth is, we may never know the full story. There are still several details that we can't explain, including the lights in the sky, the burnt tree, and the hikers' extensive injuries. But in our rush to try to understand it, it can be easy to forget the true damage that was caused. That day, nine young people lost their lives.

They were brilliant students, accomplished professionals, and adventurous spirits. They were all united by their love of the outdoors and their desire to prove themselves. And while we can never bring them back, we can know their journey ended the same way it began. together. Thanks so much for listening. I'm Carter Roy, and this is Murder True Crime Stories. Come back next time for the story of another murder and all the people it affected.

Murder True Crime Stories is a Crimehouse original powered by Pave Studios. Here at Crimehouse, we want to thank each and every one of you for your support. If you like what you heard today, reach out on social media at Crimehouse on TikTok and Instagram, don't forget to rate, review, and follow Murder True Crime Stories wherever you get your podcasts.

Your feedback truly makes a difference. And to enhance your Murder True Crime Stories listening experience, subscribe to Crime House Plus on Apple Podcasts. You'll get every episode early and at free. We'll be back on Tuesday. Murder True Crime Stories is hosted by me, Carter Roy, and is a Crime House original powered by Pave Studios. This episode was brought to life by the Murder True Crime Stories team,

Max Cutler, Ron Shapiro, Alex Benadon, Natalie Pertowski, Lori Marinelli, Ellie Reed, Sarah Camp, and Russell Nash. Thank you for listening. Looking for your next listen? Hi, it's Vanessa Richardson, and I have exciting news. Conspiracy theories cults and crimes is leveling up. Starting the week of January 12th, you'll be getting two episodes. episodes every week. Wednesdays we unravel the conspiracy or the cult, and on Fridays we look at a corresponding crime. Follow conspiracy theories, cults, and crimes now on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, Amazon Music, or wherever you listen.