Hello, campers, grab your marshmallows and gather around the true crime campfire.

We're your camp counselors. I'm Katie. And I'm Whitney.

And we're here to tell you a true story that is way stranger than fiction.

We're roasting murderers and marshmallows around the true crime campfire.

In a lot of ways, the world is smaller now than it ever has been.

With a few clicks of the mouse, I can watch a live camera feed of Sydney Harbor or read

newspaper from any country I can think of. Just five hours in an airplane can get you from the

U.S. to Europe, and pretty much anyone on the planet can listen

to a couple of nerds like us on a podcast. But obviously, the world is not, in fact, shrinking.

It's still just as vast and potentially perilous as it was in the days when no one knew what

lay on the other side of the ocean. And all it takes to bring that home is to lose connection to our

world of technology and information. Our story is about a man's unimaginable journey through

the ocean wilderness, driven by nothing but his wits and his will to survive. This is Lost,

the story of Salvador Alarenga.

Music is lost, the story of Salvador Alarenga.

So, campers, we're starting this one in 2012 in the fishing village of Costa Azul on the Pacific coast of southern Mexico.

Costa Azul sits on a peaceful lagoon with mangrove forests and cornfields behind it.

There's a slowly growing tourism economy, but the engine that drives Costa Azul has always been fishing.

You can catch some small fish in the lagoon as long as you steer clear of the crocodiles,

but if you want to make a living at it, you have to go out to sea. This was dangerous work.

Fishermen went out on little two-man boats, 25 feet long, simple fiberglass shells with an

outboard motor and an icebox the size of a refrigerator on its side. They often went out

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