Cyclist Vanished on Mountain Road — 2 Weeks Later His Helmet Cam Was Found Still Recording 😱

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Ethan Moore was a seasoned cyclist, a man who embraced the thrill of the ride and the beauty of the Oregon Coast Range. On April 14, 2024, he set out for what he planned to be a routine solo ride, a journey he had made countless times before. But that day would become a haunting chapter in the lives of those who loved him.

Ethan meticulously prepared for his ride. He posted his route on the cycling app Straa, texted his girlfriend, Maya, and even charged his helmet cam. With a bright yellow jersey and a playful smile, he documented his morning ritual, joking about being overprepared. He gave a thumbs-up to the camera, promising Maya he would see her for dinner after his 38-mile round trip on Old Salmon River Road to Cascade Head Lookout.

The morning air was crisp, filled with the scents of sunscreen and coffee. Maya watched him leave, her heart swelling with pride and love, unaware that this would be the last time she would see him alive. By 8:15 a.m., Ethan was 15 miles into his ride, his Strava app tracking his steady pace and heart rate. Everything seemed normal until 9:07 a.m., when his GPS signal abruptly vanished.

Maya was teaching a yoga class, her phone tucked away. It was Ethan’s mother, Linda, who first noticed the silence. She followed Ethan’s rides obsessively, her heart sinking when his tracker went dark. After a series of frantic calls, she contacted the Lincoln City Police Department, only to be told to wait. Cyclists often take breaks, they said. But Linda felt a chill of dread.

When Ethan still hadn’t checked in by 11:00 a.m., the search began. Local sheriff’s deputies drove the route, eyes peeled for any sign of him—a reflector, a tire mark, anything. As the hours passed with no trace, volunteers from the cycling community rallied, friends and strangers walking the shoulders of the road, calling his name into the dense forest. The terrain was unforgiving; thick underbrush and steep ravines could easily hide a fallen cyclist.

As night fell, the temperature dropped. Maya stood at the search staging area, wrapped in a blanket, staring at a map dotted with colored pins. She held a cup of coffee, its warmth contrasting sharply with the cold fear gripping her heart. Somewhere in the dark, Ethan’s helmet cam was still recording, capturing moments of his last ride, though none of them knew it yet.

The first 48 hours of the search were chaotic. Drones equipped with thermal imaging scoured the area, and search teams interviewed anyone who might have seen Ethan. A few witnesses recalled seeing him earlier that day, but as the search expanded, hope began to wane. Maya couldn’t sleep, constantly replaying that morning in her mind, the thumbs-up, the smile, the ordinary nature of it all.

On day six, the official search was scaled back due to dwindling resources and worsening weather. Maya started planning a memorial service, even as every fiber of her being screamed that Ethan was still out there. Then, on day 14, a hiker stumbled upon Ethan’s helmet in the underbrush, still attached to a GoPro camera. The camera was recording, and the light was still blinking.

The discovery sent shockwaves through the community. Investigators treated the site like a crime scene, analyzing the helmet and camera. When they retrieved the footage, it revealed Ethan’s last moments in stunning detail. The video began in his kitchen, full of life and excitement, and then transitioned to the ride. Everything seemed normal until a dark SUV appeared behind him, slowly tailing him for miles.

Ethan glanced back, his demeanor shifting from relaxed to tense. The SUV crept closer, and Ethan’s voice became sharp with frustration. “Come on, dude,” he muttered, urging the driver to either pass or back off. But the vehicle did neither. Instead, it nudged Ethan’s bike, causing him to lose control and crash to the ground.

The camera captured the chaos—the sound of metal scraping against asphalt, Ethan’s grunt of pain, and then silence. Footsteps approached, and a voice, calm and almost conversational, uttered the chilling words, “You should have stayed on the main road.” The SUV drove away, leaving Ethan alone and injured.

The footage transformed the investigation from a missing person case to a potential murder investigation. The FBI became involved, analyzing every frame, searching for the driver of the SUV. The public was urged to be cautious, as the cycling community grappled with the terrifying reality that a predator might be lurking on the roads.

As the days turned into weeks, Maya poured over the footage, trying to find answers. She discovered a disturbing pattern of similar disappearances of solo cyclists in the region over the years. Each case bore striking similarities to Ethan’s—no bodies recovered, bikes found hidden and damaged. She compiled her findings and sent them to the FBI, but without concrete evidence, they remained speculative.

Then, a breakthrough came. A woman named Karen Deacro recalled finding a bike helmet with a camera two years earlier while hiking. It had been turned in to park rangers and later donated to a thrift store. Investigators traced it back to Marcus Chen, another cyclist who had gone missing under eerily similar circumstances. The pieces began to fit together, and the realization hit hard: they were dealing with a serial predator.

A sense of urgency enveloped the investigation. The FBI built a profile of the suspect—a local male, likely familiar with the remote roads, someone who blended in with the outdoor community. The search for Ethan’s remains intensified, and when they were finally discovered in June 2024, the truth was devastating. Ethan had survived for hours after the crash, alone in the woods, unable to call for help.

Maya’s world shattered. She couldn’t bear the thought of Ethan’s last moments, the fear he must have felt, or the fact that he had been so close to being found. The investigation remained open, but the driver of the SUV was still unidentified. Maya moved away from Lincoln City, unable to face the memories that haunted her.

Months later, she still held onto Ethan’s GoPro, watching old footage of him goofing around and sharing his love for cycling. In one video, he spoke about the freedom of the open road, a sentiment that now felt bittersweet. She paused the video, staring at his smiling face, and thought about the darkness that lurked in the shadows, waiting for its next victim.

Ethan’s story became a haunting reminder of the dangers cyclists face, a chilling tale of a life cut short by a predator hiding in plain sight. The helmet cam footage, while documenting his final moments, also served as a testament to the love and joy he brought to those around him. As Maya continued to seek justice for Ethan, she knew that somewhere out there, the question remained: who was driving that SUV, and how many others were still out there, waiting?