Getting the ball rolling...

Here are a few things I remember about Lee that I jotted down last night after I found out about the accident:

I always felt honored and lucky to climb with Lee.

He was always creative and had the knowledge and energy to solve any problem, from torn pants in the backcountry to routefinding to digging pits.

Like Murray said, you knew he would be able to get you out of any jam.

In a world where I feel like I can't trust very many people, I trusted Lee. He might not have always taken the optimal route, but he would always find something that worked.  He could fix anything, stay calm in any situation, and was strong as an ox and quick as a rabbit.

He was stubborn and honest and frank and a good human being. He never stopped learning or reading. 

He always, always, always had a great sense of humor, was enthusiastic about everything he did, and curious about how everything worked. He was such a goofy bastard. I can't look at a picture of him without laughing! While Murray is the great destructor, fan of trundling and burning, Lee was more of a constructor, building cairns, making solid camp sites in the snow, etc.,etc.  I remember him constructing the 'golden piton award' for Pat in honor of his Bulger List completion last year.

On our recent trip that was supposed to be Monument and Lake, we ended up doing Mt. Robinson instead. He could go through the bushwhacking sections twice as fast as I could. (And so could Murray!)  He cleared avalanche zones by throwing rocks and triggering wet slides. He was a master at that - his sense of snow was amazing.

Things I'll remember:
He'd always bring along a copy of the Seattle Times with him for the drive.
Doing the Jumble puzzle together.
Jack Mountain
Crater Mountain
He was so jealous of my Exped sleeping mat that I was tempted to buy one for him.
His sewing kit
His astonishment at the fact that I didn't drink.  He was always giving me shit about that and very proud when I did manage to finish a beer after we finished Horseshoe on our last trip together.  I was looking forward to telling him about how I hauled a bottle of riesling into camp last weekend and actually liked it.

I feel like I've told my non-climbing friends millions of stories about him, each time having to explain that he's Lee, my 52-year-old climbing partner who lives down the street. 

I loved climbing with him. He was funny, but never too talkative. I either called him lardass, Old Man Adams, or to really give him a hard time, 'dad'. I can't remember us ever disagreeing about anything... although we might have debated a route or two. Perhaps the reflection of the rear-view mirror isn't quite accurate, but I can't remember ever being annoyed with him. I always went on any trip with him with all potential unpleasantries fully disclosed and he always gave me the choice of opting out of anything I might not be comfortable with.

Jesus, he was a good skier.

He LOVED South Spectacle Butte and the larches there. And he LOVED the ice 'skating' on the way down from Greenwood

He survived Hard Mox, a rock that pinned his foot underwater while he was scrambling. It seemed like he could survive anything.

I'm trying to finish a Lagunitas IPA in his honor as I type this.  That's the beer the three of us shared after Silver Star in April.

I really looked up to him, perhaps more than anyone I know. It has taken me all these trips to realize that I'll never be half the climber or skier that Lee was. I learned a lot from him, just hearing about his career and other aspects of life. Maybe he was a little like a surrogate father.

I remember last summer while he was racking up summits like crazy something he said that surprised me at the time. He said that there's a lot more to life than climbing. And that really meant something to me, coming from an amazing climber who obviously felt so passionate about it.

Lee, I miss you already. 


-Susan Ashlock