A Slender Thread Part 2
This is the second part of the blog started here. We'll pick up from where we left off - I'd arrived home from a weekend in North Wales, de-kitted and was running a nice hot bath. I'd poured a glass of wine and had logged on while the bath was running...
...Hang on - there's an email from one of the guys on the trip here...eh? He's had a call from David's wife to say have we seen David as he's not been in touch since Friday. You probably won't remember but the weather on this trip was atrocious - a couple of storms had blown through, which meant that about half of those who were due to go had pulled out. We had assumed that David had made that decision as he never arrived at the hut on Friday night. This doesn't make any sense though - David's wife says that he's in North Wales, he came up on the Thursday and stayed the night at a hotel in Capel Curig, but he can't have done because why didn't he arrive at the hut on Friday night then? Apparently he'd told his wife he was off for a walk up Tryfan on Friday, nothing strenuous.
My mind tried to process this information, and my fingers typed "Ogwen Mountain Rescue" into Google. This report came back very quickly: "Two walkers on the Heather Terrace (Tryfan) discovered a body of a male and called the Police. OVMRO were tasked to investigate and recover the body so immediately sent out a hasty party to assess the situation. In atrocious weather conditions the team located the casualty, then lowered him into Cwm Tryfan for a stretcher carry to the road."
I knew in my gut that the body they had found was David's.
The next bit is a bit of a blur. Teresa and the boys were coming back from her Mum's and so I was alone in the house. I'd just found out that one of my friends had died. I drunk another glass of wine quite quickly and phoned Andy who I'd driven back from North Wales with - he hadn't checked his email so I talked it through with him. I tried to get through to Em, the wife of Dave (Legend of the Mountains), who had organised the trip. Finally I did so and I think they confirmed what I already knew in my heart - the body that had been found was indeed David's. We were all in shock, trying to work out how it could have happened, and guilt wracked that we had not raised the alarm when David did not arrive. I clearly remembered that Friday night in the hut when we realised we had not heard from him to say he was not coming, yet he had not arrived. I'd said something along the lines of "I know he's really busy at work, he's canned it". The worst thing was thinking that perhaps even as I had said that he was alone, injured and in pain on a mountain in awful weather and we had not come to his aid. I drank more and then Teresa and the boys came home. Teresa instantly knew that something was wrong - "Someone didn't come back" I sobbed into her shoulder.
Over the next few days a few details emerged, but not many. David had gone for a walk on the Friday, when we were driving up to North Wales, the weather had been bad and somehow he had got caught out on Tryfan. The gully he was found at the bottom of is a notorious black spot as it appears to offer a way off of the mountain yet half way down becomes much steeper and is very difficult to descend safely. Quite what he was doing in it will always be a mystery - perhaps it was something as simple as a trip which turned into an uncontrolled slip and then a fall, perhaps it was a navigational error, perhaps he'd been trying to climb up it. He had fallen a considerable distance - up to seventy five metres or so according to the coroner's report.
Tragically he had not left notice of intentions with anyone who could raise the alarm when he did not arrive back from his walk. We in the club had no idea he was even in North Wales that day until his wife raised the alarm several days later. Cold comfort.
The initial shock became grief. This was a man who I had shared a rope with, I had trusted him with my life and vice-versa. The brotherhood of the rope forms strong bonds. I also worked with David and kept expecting his happy bearded face to appear around my office door to swap excited plans for the next club trip or to see if I was up for a climb on the weekend. I saw him around campus in fleeting glimpses of other balding, bearded men. To accept that someone so vibrant and vital who was one minute walking by your side could be *poof* gone, just like that, was very difficult. I thought about him at some point every day for months.
If it was difficult for me the funeral a couple of weeks later showed the cataclysm that had touched down on his family. He left behind a heart-broken wife and three children (thankfully all grown adults). Dark thoughts swirled about the selfishness of our sport - why do we think it is OK to risk everything for a momentary pleasure, a tawdry adrenaline rush? But then speaking with the family and in the eulogy it becomes clear - the life he lived, and the life the family lived are inextricably linked to his love of the outdoors and climbing. Weather beaten walks in all weathers, a passion for the outdoors, for living life, for the wild places. Inevitably I reflect on my own family, and think of the holidays we have taken to places I first explored as a climber - to the Gower, Pembroke, North Wales and Dartmoor. Would I stop climbing? No. But I would never climb again with such a light heart.
One great comfort to come from the funeral was confirmation from his son, a vet, that David had died very quickly as a result of serious head injuries. He had not waited in vain for help. Whatever action we took on that Friday night would not have changed the outcome of the story.
“Still, the last sad memory hovers round, and sometimes drifts across like floating mist, cutting off sunshine and chilling the remembrance of happier times. There have been joys too great to be described in words, and there have been griefs upon which I have not dared to dwell; and with these in mind I say: Climb if you will, but remember that courage and strength are nought without prudence, and that a momentary negligence may destroy the happiness of a lifetime. Do nothing in haste; look well to each step; and from the beginning think what may be the end.”
― Edward Whymper, Scrambles Amongst the Alps
The Avon Moutaineering Club put up this touching tribute to him.
...Hang on - there's an email from one of the guys on the trip here...eh? He's had a call from David's wife to say have we seen David as he's not been in touch since Friday. You probably won't remember but the weather on this trip was atrocious - a couple of storms had blown through, which meant that about half of those who were due to go had pulled out. We had assumed that David had made that decision as he never arrived at the hut on Friday night. This doesn't make any sense though - David's wife says that he's in North Wales, he came up on the Thursday and stayed the night at a hotel in Capel Curig, but he can't have done because why didn't he arrive at the hut on Friday night then? Apparently he'd told his wife he was off for a walk up Tryfan on Friday, nothing strenuous.
My mind tried to process this information, and my fingers typed "Ogwen Mountain Rescue" into Google. This report came back very quickly: "Two walkers on the Heather Terrace (Tryfan) discovered a body of a male and called the Police. OVMRO were tasked to investigate and recover the body so immediately sent out a hasty party to assess the situation. In atrocious weather conditions the team located the casualty, then lowered him into Cwm Tryfan for a stretcher carry to the road."
I knew in my gut that the body they had found was David's.
The next bit is a bit of a blur. Teresa and the boys were coming back from her Mum's and so I was alone in the house. I'd just found out that one of my friends had died. I drunk another glass of wine quite quickly and phoned Andy who I'd driven back from North Wales with - he hadn't checked his email so I talked it through with him. I tried to get through to Em, the wife of Dave (Legend of the Mountains), who had organised the trip. Finally I did so and I think they confirmed what I already knew in my heart - the body that had been found was indeed David's. We were all in shock, trying to work out how it could have happened, and guilt wracked that we had not raised the alarm when David did not arrive. I clearly remembered that Friday night in the hut when we realised we had not heard from him to say he was not coming, yet he had not arrived. I'd said something along the lines of "I know he's really busy at work, he's canned it". The worst thing was thinking that perhaps even as I had said that he was alone, injured and in pain on a mountain in awful weather and we had not come to his aid. I drank more and then Teresa and the boys came home. Teresa instantly knew that something was wrong - "Someone didn't come back" I sobbed into her shoulder.
Over the next few days a few details emerged, but not many. David had gone for a walk on the Friday, when we were driving up to North Wales, the weather had been bad and somehow he had got caught out on Tryfan. The gully he was found at the bottom of is a notorious black spot as it appears to offer a way off of the mountain yet half way down becomes much steeper and is very difficult to descend safely. Quite what he was doing in it will always be a mystery - perhaps it was something as simple as a trip which turned into an uncontrolled slip and then a fall, perhaps it was a navigational error, perhaps he'd been trying to climb up it. He had fallen a considerable distance - up to seventy five metres or so according to the coroner's report.
Tragically he had not left notice of intentions with anyone who could raise the alarm when he did not arrive back from his walk. We in the club had no idea he was even in North Wales that day until his wife raised the alarm several days later. Cold comfort.
The initial shock became grief. This was a man who I had shared a rope with, I had trusted him with my life and vice-versa. The brotherhood of the rope forms strong bonds. I also worked with David and kept expecting his happy bearded face to appear around my office door to swap excited plans for the next club trip or to see if I was up for a climb on the weekend. I saw him around campus in fleeting glimpses of other balding, bearded men. To accept that someone so vibrant and vital who was one minute walking by your side could be *poof* gone, just like that, was very difficult. I thought about him at some point every day for months.
If it was difficult for me the funeral a couple of weeks later showed the cataclysm that had touched down on his family. He left behind a heart-broken wife and three children (thankfully all grown adults). Dark thoughts swirled about the selfishness of our sport - why do we think it is OK to risk everything for a momentary pleasure, a tawdry adrenaline rush? But then speaking with the family and in the eulogy it becomes clear - the life he lived, and the life the family lived are inextricably linked to his love of the outdoors and climbing. Weather beaten walks in all weathers, a passion for the outdoors, for living life, for the wild places. Inevitably I reflect on my own family, and think of the holidays we have taken to places I first explored as a climber - to the Gower, Pembroke, North Wales and Dartmoor. Would I stop climbing? No. But I would never climb again with such a light heart.
One great comfort to come from the funeral was confirmation from his son, a vet, that David had died very quickly as a result of serious head injuries. He had not waited in vain for help. Whatever action we took on that Friday night would not have changed the outcome of the story.
“Still, the last sad memory hovers round, and sometimes drifts across like floating mist, cutting off sunshine and chilling the remembrance of happier times. There have been joys too great to be described in words, and there have been griefs upon which I have not dared to dwell; and with these in mind I say: Climb if you will, but remember that courage and strength are nought without prudence, and that a momentary negligence may destroy the happiness of a lifetime. Do nothing in haste; look well to each step; and from the beginning think what may be the end.”
― Edward Whymper, Scrambles Amongst the Alps
The Avon Moutaineering Club put up this touching tribute to him.