Hi Lesley,
Sorry to hear the sad news. Here is a bit about my memory about John.
I remember John as a low-key, soft-spoken, but very good climber and mathematician. My memory is generally poor, but two events come to mind. One of the first times I talked with him was at the UW climbing rock. I recall my boasting about some calculation I had just done and his incredulity. After I left for class, I realized that I had erred and his scepticism was right on.
The other event was a trip we took to Squamish, just north of Vancouver, BC. It is one of my most memorable climbing experiences. This would be in the early 80s. We drove up from Seattle in his car. He played a tape by David Byrne and Brian Eno, and I recall thinking how refreshing and different that music was.
Our climb was on the Chief, the big wall at Squamish, and the route was called, I think, cruel shoes. Neither of us had done the route before, but he knew something about it. The technical difficulty was within my ability, but he told me that long falls were possible on some pitches; not to worry though, he would lead those pitches. And so he did lead the scary and hardest pitches (gracefully, I might add), which I was very grateful for. We reached the split pillar, where the route joins another route, and then we descended. About 120 feet from the ground there was this perfect little ledge to sit on where our back would be against the wall and our feet hanging over the edge. So we stopped on this ledge to rest for awhile. John told me about some intoxicant he had brought in his pack, I think it might have been beer, but anyway, we enjoyed whatever it was that he brought. We sat there on the ledge for some time feeling the warm glow, chatting, and watching the darkening sky. Suddenly it dawned on one of us, probably John, that the descent through the dense forest below would be a bit darker than than it was up here on the wall above the tree tops. Normally, it would take about 15 minutes to descend from the base of the wall to the car. But neither of us had a flashlight, and the descent through the forest might be difficult in the dark. We quickly rappelled to the base and started down the trail. John said that we might lose the trail, in which case he should lead the way because he was more familiar (he said) with the forest below the Chief. You see, this forest has huge trees that hide huge boulders and cliffs. He knew the hidden dangers in this forest and he made it clear to me that we had to be careful. So, sure enough, we staggered only about ten feet down the trail before we got totally lost. He suggested that we get down on all fours and crawl out. It sounds crazy, but that is what we had to do. John led the way, and whenever we got to a dropoff, he told me to wait until I heard his voice at the bottom. A few times he did go over a dropoff, but it was never more than one or two body lengths. I would be left all alone in complete darkness at the edge, but I had complete confidence that he would lead me safely to the car. About 20 yards or so from the parking lot we somehow rejoined the trail and casually walked to the car.
So, that was about 20 years ago. Since then we moved apart. I haven't had much opportunity to climb since then, so the memory of our descent on all fours has become all the more valuable to me. It was only a few weeks ago that I was thinking how nice it would be to find John's email and give him an unexpected message. I would have thanked him for the wonderful experience he brought me.
Jon Nelson
