The Los Angeles fires surround me. I packed a “Go Bag,” and I’m glued to the TV, devouring the local news. The scenes of the burnt areas resemble war movies and emergency training videos. Some of the victim’s cries for help go unanswered, and others hear, “Hold on, we’ll get there when we can.” A desperate person can go insane without the aid needed during a frightening situation.
It reminds me of a mystery of two hikers in Japan. During a July 24, 1989 hiking trip, two Tokyo men lost their way on Mount Asahi, Japan. The men huddled together and waited in the cold for help. The police sent out a rescue helicopter and found a sixteen-foot-long S.O.S. sign made of stacked birch trees. Two miles from the sign, the men climbed out of a cave and waved the helicopter down.
While debriefing the hikers, the officers thanked them for the birch S.O.S., “Without that sign, we would never have found you.” The hikers looked at each other and shrugged. The men did not create the signal, nor did they have information about its whereabouts.
Concerned, the Japanese police went out again to search for the lost creator of the S.O.S. A few miles away, the rescue team found a hole large enough for a human to hide in. Inside the pit, they found human bones with animal bite marks. They also retrieved four cassette tapes, a recorder, a backpack, two cameras, a tripod, sneakers, a notebook, and a Driver’s License that belonged to Kenji Iwamura, who had gone missing five years before the rescue of the hikers.
An examination of the bones determined they belonged to a woman 20-40 years old. The authorities examined their missing persons database but found no woman unaccounted for in that area. Likewise, the investigators could not establish a link between a woman and Iwamura.
The investigation now focused on the items located in the hole. The first few cassettes had music from two anime TV shows. A close friend of Iwamura confirmed that he recorded anime-themed music. Likewise, they testified that the sneakers were his size.
However, the end of the last tape contained a message from a frantic man yelling for help. “S.O.S.; help me! I can’t move on the cliff! S.O.S.; help me! The place is where I first met the helicopter! The Sasa is deep, and I can’t get up! Lift me up from here!” When Iwamura’s parents heard the voice on the recording, they could not confirm that it was their son. That shrouded the mystery further, and the investigation stalled.
When reconsidering the evidence, the police realized that Iwamura, with fractured bones, could not have cut down birch trees and stacked them to create a sixteen-foot sign. With the cold weather and no axe, the possibility of Iwamura creating the help sign faded.
In 1990, authorities reexamined the bones and revealed that they did not belong to a female but to a male of the same age range.
Further investigation by the Japan Forestry and the Japan Geographical Agency found the S.O.S. had appeared on their maps of the mountainside from September 1987 and possibly earlier than that time. The agencies noted that a sign of that size would have taken at least two days, required a sharp axe, and may have been difficult for one person to create.
A standard theory is that Iwamura may have found another lost hiker, and both may have created the sign together. Yet, a scuffle between the men could have caused Iwamura to fall over the cliff and cause his injuries. In a panic, Iwamura recorded the message and played it at maximum volume until his batteries died.
So, who created this mystery sign for help? Are their bones still out there? Or did the person make it out and fear returning to the area to deconstruct the sign?
What do you think? Let me know if you have any further information on this mystery or any other stories I’ve covered. I’d love to hear from you.
Harper
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