Hiker’s Camera Reveals BIGFOOT — and Uncanny Photos Found After His Death

In September 2025, Robert Parkinson ventured deep into Tasmania’s wilderness. Locals called it the jungle of graves, a stretch of rainforest where time felt frozen and silence pressed against the skin. Robert wasn’t there to explore. He was chasing a ghost—the mystery of Liam Kramer, a Belgian backpacker who had vanished two years earlier.

As Robert reached the ridge where Liam was last seen, the forest shifted. A faint cry echoed from the distance. It wasn’t animal. It wasn’t human. It was sorrowful, raw, and it pierced straight through him.

He froze. Terror rose in his chest. Then instinct took over. He ran, sprinting out of that cursed place, never daring to look back.

II. The Vanishing of Liam Kramer

Liam Kramer was born in Brussels in 1992. Restless, fearless, always chasing the unknown, he had traveled across Europe before he was twenty. In early 2023, he set out for Australia, planning a months‑long solo journey. His final destination was Tasmania, before crossing to New Zealand.

On June 17, 2023, Liam was last seen driving a white SUV toward Philosopher Falls, a waterfall deep in the Tarkine rainforest. He never boarded the ferry scheduled for June 21. By June 26, his family reported him missing.

Authorities launched an extensive search: ground teams, helicopters, cadaver dogs, river scans. Nothing. No footprints. No gear. Not even his vehicle.

Tasmania’s winter made the search brutal—freezing rain, rugged terrain, suffocating silence. After two weeks, officials concluded survival was unlikely. On July 10, the search was called off.

But Liam’s best friend, Justin Robert, refused to accept it.

III. The Investigator

Justin hired Ken Daniel, a former US Army soldier turned investigator. Daniel specialized in endurance searches and cyber forensics. Reviewing police reports, he noticed something overlooked: Liam’s Google GPS data.

The coordinates revealed Liam’s final location at 4:18 p.m. on June 17—a high ridge near Philosopher Falls, deep inside the Tarkine. Daniel remapped the area and found over forty GPS points the police had missed.

In April 2024, Daniel led a small expedition. The rainforest was suffocating. Fallen trees blocked paths, roots twisted like serpents, sunlight barely reached the floor.

“It’s darker than you can imagine,” Daniel said. “You feel watched. It’s not just a forest. It feels like something’s waiting.”

Then they found a stone marker, half‑buried, moss‑covered. The inscription was faint but chilling:

“Beware. Danger is near. You may fall into unseen ravines or be taken by the creature that dwells below. Two of our companions vanished here. Let this be our warning.”

IV. The Footage

Daniel deployed drones and motion cameras. One drone captured Liam’s SUV, still parked near the trail, untouched. Another recorded kangaroos and birds. But deeper in the forest, the footage changed.

Two humanoid figures darted between trees at incredible speed. Slowed down, their movements were clear: bent knees, elongated limbs, strides too wide for humans.

Another clip showed a shadowed figure, humanoid, deliberate, moving just beyond the frame.

“I’ve been through wild jungles,” Daniel said, “but I’ve never seen anything like this.”

V. The GPS Puzzle

Daniel reconstructed Liam’s route. The GPS data revealed something strange: Liam returned to his parking spot three times. Twice he followed the same trail. But the third time, he veered off toward the ridge—the place he was last seen.

His signal flickered, then cut out completely.

“He didn’t just wander,” Daniel whispered. “He was heading there for a reason.”

VI. The Hollow Discovery

In January 2025, backpacker Zachary Hafner claimed he found a blue women’s t‑shirt and torn jeans hidden in a tree hollow near the ridge. Shredded, weathered, exposed for months.

He posted photos online. Debate erupted. Authorities never confirmed the find.

VII. The Blogger’s Descent

Then came Robert Parkinson. In September 2025, he retraced Liam’s GPS route, documenting every step.

“The silence was unreal,” he said. “All I could hear was my own breathing—and at one point, my own scream.”

The path was a maze of broken trees and massive logs. He crawled under trunks, climbed over rocks. Finally, he reached the ridge.

For the first time, the forest came alive. Insects buzzed. Birds called. The jungle awakened.

Then a roar tore through the silence. Deafening. Inhuman.

Robert froze. His camera shook. “It wasn’t human,” he whispered. “It wasn’t an animal I know. I shouldn’t have come here.”

VIII. The Legends

Tasmanian police concluded Liam likely got lost or fell into a hidden pit. No foul play. No robbery. His belongings remained untouched.

But locals whispered older stories. Aboriginal legends spoke of the Doolagar—a fanged, humanlike being said to roam Tasmania’s forests.

Seven to eight feet tall. Reddish skin. Glowing eyes. A stench of rot. Strong enough to rip kangaroos apart.

They warned: before a Doolagar appears, the forest goes silent. Birds stop. Insects vanish. Then come the knocks—deep, echoing, like warnings.

IX. The Awakening

Robert fled the ridge, shaken. He tried to find the hollow where Hafner claimed to see clothes, but the forest was too vast. He saw many hollow roots, each large enough to hide something.

He left quickly, whispering into his camera: “Can you hear that? That’s clear. That’s loud. That’s not supposed to be here.”

X. The Memory of the Mountain

Months passed. The official story remained: Liam was lost. But whispers grew louder.

Some believed he was taken by the forest itself. Others said he had encountered the Doolagar.

Daniel’s footage, Hafner’s hollow, Parkinson’s roar—all pointed to something hidden. Something watching. Something remembering.

XI. The Pattern

Taken alone, each piece was fragile. A missing backpacker. A stone marker. A roar in the trees.

But together, they formed a mosaic:

GPS trails leading to the ridge.

Figures darting between trees.

Clothes hidden in hollows.

Roars that shook the silence.

The forest whispered in fragments. And those fragments told a story older than ours.

XII. The Final Lesson

The truth may not be that Liam Kramer vanished. The truth may be that the Tarkine remembered him.

Because in Tasmania’s jungle of graves, silence is not absence. Silence is presence.

And when the forest awakens, it does not call for help. It calls for memory.