Gary.
I was driving across Kansas in my mother in law’s car we had borrowed for a while. It was 2016, and as with any solo road trip, I was out of things to keep my attention.
I had a strange feeling that seemingly came out of nowhere that told me I need to call Gary. I imagined him opening up his flip phone, or it was buried in his pack somewhere. I left a message telling him I missed him and wanted to know what he was up to.
Gary and I were not best friends. In fact, in the friends list we all keep hidden inside ourselves, I probably didnt make the top 50 for Gary. But for me, Gary was a mentor, someone I looked up to, a person I was proud to have in my phone.
And like we all tend to do, I never told him these things.
I woke up the next day to find a text that Gary had passed away while guiding on the Grand. To this day, I still get shaken up about it. His death was a crushing blow to so many people who were so much more important to him than I was.
But Gary was important to me. Gary took the time to teach, mentor and be a friend in a pivotal time in my life. Our last climb was an attempt of the Grand Traverse of the Tetons in 2014. A trip that changed my life for the sheer experience and challenge of it. A trip that scared me, challenged me, and shed a blinding light on all the things I needed to learn, do, work on and train for.
I have never stopped thinking about Gary and his effect on my life.
As I head out to attempt the Grand Traverse again this year, well over a decade later, it is impossible not to feel and think about him. I never stopped wanting to do this climb since the day we got stormed off the north face of the Grand. Reflecting on the person and climber I was back then, compared to now, is one of those things I struggle to be proud of. The trajectory Gary and so many others have put me on is wild to think about. It is a gratefulness that can never be expressed with words.
What continues to come to mind is just how influential we can be to each other without ever knowing. What may seem banal and meaningless to us could be setting someone off on a journey that spans decades, lifetimes even.
We never really know how much someone means to us until they are no longer around to see the journey they set us on. How we ourselves can never fully appreciate people around us because our stories continue to be written.
As I was setting up my trip, I was speaking to another guide while scheduling dates and permits, and I let him know my first attempt was with Gary.
The man’s tone changed from someone on the phone to someone he now had something in common with.
“I can’t wait for you to summit the Grand, see Gary and give him some love”, he said…
“me too,” I said. (While trying not to break down on the phone)
“me too.”
See you soon my friend.
