Discussion Topic |
|
This thread has been locked |
ydpl8s
Trad climber
Santa Monica, California
|
|
Ugh! I was introduced to Jonny by Philo last year during Jonny's slideshow at Neptunes, what a humble engaging person. Those guys were the archetype of the new strong, fast talented climbers that took speed and ability to a level that I couldn't even quite understand.
Many years ago Philo and I lost a close friend, that was a budding world class climber, to an avalanche in Alberta. Those things play no favorites, even the best can be taken when it seems that they are taking all the right precautions. My heart and soul go out to the grieving families.
|
|
Phantom Fugitive
Trad climber
Misery
|
|
Top of the Arrowhead in RMNP... psyched as usual
|
|
drljefe
climber
Old Pueblo, AZ
|
|
BUMP
dude lived the life.
...and Bean, if you're out there, Jefe(Preskitt) here. Keep on keepin on.
|
|
donini
Trad climber
Ouray, Colorado
|
|
Jonny and Micah were great climbers and even better human beings. Humble, energetic, funny and caring, they left behind many friends and loved ones who will keep their memory fresh.
|
|
skywalker
climber
|
|
|
Jun 10, 2009 - 03:37am PT
|
my regards...i don't know what else to say...
very sad...
|
|
C. Trimble
climber
|
|
|
Jun 10, 2009 - 08:48pm PT
|
F*#k. This one really hurts.
He passed through my life like a cackling madman in the streets of a crowded city who stares into your eyes for one endless minute that haunts you for the rest of your days. He was like a long-lost brother I met for a minute on a subway, and then lost forever. He snuck up on me like he was sent from another world to give me a message.
Sparkling eyes, surrounded by wrinkles. He had gotten harder, leaner, features more chiseled, sharper in the last few years. Hardened by pain, by suffering, by pushing his endurance. Also softened by new-found love, by deep peace, by success.
This guy was so strong, so powerful, it was unbelievable. He had a reckless, pagan wild-man streak. He cultivated fearlessness and mindfulness. He brought magic to our hyper-rational world. He didn't give a f*ck-all if things looked bad to everyone else, and wasn't scared of jack-sh*t when we were all trembling in terror. He was attentive to the weaker ones, generous, aware.
he was kind and gentle as they come, and tough as nails.
he was a true wildman, a viking, a barbarian comfortable in an english garden. he was a muscle-bound flutist, a poet, a savage.
1000 years ago he would have spent his time wading through battles with a giant sword. We used to talk about past lives, about mysterious memories we both had of huge battles, of monsters, of bloodshed, of being pursued by dark armies.
He used to ask me again and again about a recurring dream I would have of flying across a dark continent, chasing the last sunbeams of dusk like a narrowing crack of light under a closing door.
we used to babble wine-drunk about places in the forest with wild magic energy, about spirits, about goblins, about hindu mystics he had met and couldn't seem to forget.
we used to talk about the woodland nymphs, about fairies and mischief and great black birds watching our every step and bringing news of faraway events.
He loved mud, dirt, cold water and hot sun. He loved magic words, and music of all kinds. He was wise beyond his years, and child-like in his open heart.
We used to go climbing and he would stop in an alpine cirque to play his flute and listen to the sound bounce off the giant granite walls. I would close my eyes and listen to the notes, wondering what I was doing with my life and what it was all for.
He lived for the beauty in all things, for self-knowledge through adversity.
He loved his family, and his beautiful love Sarah, and his friends, and all the worldly comforts and pleasures of this human world.
He loved lonely places, dark, cold places, neglected animals, brave little plants on high, cold ridges, and obscure, forgettable spots under boulders in endless moraines.
He loved storms, and lightning, and nature's violence. His heart beat fast like a drummer in trance, and his blood pumped like a raging river gouging a groove through ancient granite.
He was strangely drawn to the center of every storm cloud, to the source of every mighty river, to the wind-swept apex of lonely, nameless peaks.
He was part-animal, part-sprite, a shape-shifter magician helping and healing in between visits to the dark towers.
He knew about deep suffering, and endless sadness, about roaring laughter and deep love.
He packed in so many lifetimes into 35 years, but he left too soon. He will live on in my memories, in the winds that come screaming over the ridge, in the mighty storm clouds that bring rain, in the morning sun that brings warmth after long cold nights.
I miss you so much man, and can't really believe you're gone.
I know I'll see you again.
|
|
COT
climber
Door Number 3
|
|
|
Jun 10, 2009 - 10:12pm PT
|
C. Trimble, what you wrote is truly wonderful!!!!!
|
|
nita
climber
chica from chico, I don't claim to be a daisy
|
|
|
Jun 10, 2009 - 10:13pm PT
|
Cot - that is exactly what i was thinking.
|
|
drljefe
climber
Old Pueblo, AZ
|
|
|
Jun 10, 2009 - 10:32pm PT
|
Me three, wow.
beautiful memories keep our friend's spirits strong.
|
|
spectreman
Trad climber
CO
|
|
|
Jun 10, 2009 - 11:05pm PT
|
Bump. Everyone needs to read what C Trimble wrote. Really beautiful.
|
|
philo
Trad climber
boulder, co.
|
|
|
Jun 11, 2009 - 04:19pm PT
|
Bump.
Because this still needs to be front page.
|
|
perswig
climber
|
|
|
Jun 11, 2009 - 04:44pm PT
|
by C. Trimble:
He was part-animal, part-sprite, a shape-shifter magician helping and healing in between visits to the dark towers.
He knew about deep suffering, and endless sadness, about roaring laughter and deep love.
How is it you could tell this just by seeing him on film, I wonder? Because that's exactly the impressions I got seeing clips of him here and there; the epitome of an 'open' expression, and so much life to see.
People who knew these three were truly blessed.
Dale
|
|
Tarbuster
climber
right here, right now
|
|
|
Jun 11, 2009 - 05:42pm PT
|
That's one helluva solid euology.
|
|
neebee
Social climber
calif/texas
|
|
|
Jun 11, 2009 - 06:17pm PT
|
hey there, say all... i just stopped in to see how this was going, and it really must be said, as, how true it is:
the majority of the world is being taught to get, get, get, as what you accumilate, makes you rich and important...
it just goes to prove, that after life is done, and one has passed on, that the greatest treasure is WHO you were inside and WHAT you freely gave to your friends and loved ones...
what wonderful "treasures" have been left to others, here...
god bless to all that are hurting, and prayers for you all to get through the sorrows, in a strong and special way...
condolences to all...
|
|
BrentA
Gym climber
Roca Rojo
|
|
|
Jun 12, 2009 - 11:50am PT
|
That f*#ker adorned my wheelchair with hubcaps, gave me a good strong PUSH toward teh front door of the Chamonix hospital and RAN at about 3am once.
The Frenchies never understood the hubcaps.
Where the heck did he hide that flute?
Chief Trimble nailed it
|
|
philo
Trad climber
boulder, co.
|
|
|
Jun 12, 2009 - 01:21pm PT
|
Ha ha ha hubcaps. Beautiful! Where did you hang the dice?
|
|
|
SuperTopo on the Web
|
Let us know!