Her enthusiasm for life was only matched by her unforgettable laughter.

It’s a laughter that my wife and I still often refer to, even though it’s been a couple of years since we met her.

So, to discover that Danish-born Louisa Vesterager Jespersen was this week found dead near her tent in the Moroccan mountains was shocking, to say the least.

Subsequent reports that the brutal murder of Louisa, 24, and her Norwegian friend Maren Ueland, 28, was possibly caught on camera and probably a terrorist attack made it even more impossible to comprehend.

One of the women was decapitated and the other was found dead with a severe neck wound. Footage of the attack, which has been shared on social media, shows a blonde woman screaming while a man cuts her neck with what appears to be a sharp kitchen knife.

It is all just so senseless.

I don’t claim to be a close friend of Louisa but my wife and I spent four days with her during a holiday in Norway back in 2016. She was our tour guide on the Mandal River.

Our time together might have only been short, but it was enough to leave a lasting impression.

Her laughter was infectious. It was true, unbridled, carefree and honest. It was the sort of laughter that was always genuine, never forced. The sound that comes from someone loving doing exactly what she was born to do – white-water rafting, abseiling, sitting around the fire ... it didn’t matter. She was loving life.

In a world-famous setting, rafting down a Norwegian river, I had expected that my eyes would be the portal which would provide the strongest sensory memory of this trip. It wasn’t. It was the sound of her laughter echoing throughout the river valley.

Facebook brought us the horrendous news of Louisa’s tragic death, but it has also allowed us to follow her incredible life.

There were posts from Australia, Spain, Italy, Peru, Brazil and Mexico. Pictures of her kayaking, skydiving, hiking, skiing. And, of course, laughing.

It’s been fun to watch and I envied her life. She was just 24 when she died but her life made you wonder if you had done enough with yours when you were young.

It’s a cliche but she was an example of making every minute count.

Her mum, interviewed this week by Danish media, confirmed our first impression of Louisa: “She was always happy and positive, she brought out the best in everyone”.

Her Facebook page, which had been a documentary of her adventures, turned into a tribute to her life with hundreds of people, just like us, reliving their short encounter with the infectious Dane.

Many contained links to news reports that show photos of their tent still pitched high in the Atlas Mountains.

It is overwhelmingly sad to see the colourful tent that would have brought her so much fun and adventure.

This same tent had now played host to a crime so horrific it barely merits consideration. A tent that was an extension of her. It was an avenue for her to be true to herself and who she was. A colourful movable shelter that allowed her to experience and immerse herself in nature.

As I said, I can’t claim to be a close friend but I trust my first impression of Louisa Vesterager Jespersen, and that was that she was a good person.

It’s a great shame that she ran into her polar opposite.

It’s a great shame her beautiful and exciting world crossed paths with an ugly minority.

It’s a great shame more people like us won’t get the privilege to hear her true laugh.

She didn’t deserve this.