Remembering Jeff

I spent the morning in the Presidio at Baker Beach in San Francisco, removing iceplant, smearing tears into muddy streaks on my face with my dusty gloves as I moved Monterey Cypress limbs into a pile. All the while, I would stare out at the ocean, listen to the waves and watch for birds, thinking of Jeff and what a blessing he was to this earth and to everyone he came in contact with. I think of him every time I see a raptor, or an LBB, especially ones I don't know. On Cold Canyon hikes, I would try to identify every plant and wildflower in sight, and he would tell me in detail about every bird and critter we encountered, always full of fascinating random details that only he would know. With Jeff, just hanging out in Davis or out in nature, I always had the feeling that everything in life was really exciting, that time with friends and doing what you loved to do was the key to a fantastic existance. The last time I spoke to him was after a Western Harrier killed my favorite chicken. It was a marvelous, strikingly beautiful bird, with Egyptian-tail lines extending out from its eyes. I'd never seen a bird like that before, and knew Jeff would know what it was. When I describe it to him, he got so excited about it and said he wanted to see it. The harrier took out five more chickens, but Jeff never got to see it. I hated that god damn beautiful bird, but at least it gave me a chance to talk to Jeff.

As a climber, his death is shocking and awakening, making me realize, once again, the fragility of life; the temporality of the being. For those whose hearts are held in the high sierra know the draw; the mountains give us so much life, challenge us to maximize our abilities, make us feel absolutely and resolutely alive, hold our focus, make us feel powerful, connected, yet humble and small. It gives me some small amount of solace knowing that he was in the 'mountains of the heart's delight', one of the most sacred and magical places on earth when he passed away.

I haven't seen him for a couple years, and I was thinking just a couple days ago that I would finally be able to drop in and see my dear old friend on my next trip to climb in Tuolumne in two weeks. I will certainly gather his spirit with me in Tuolumne, mourn him deeply, blow him a kiss to the wind, and remember him with all my heart. I will certainly miss his bear hugs, his crinkly laughing eyes and the feeling of just being with a great friend, even when the times between visits were sometimes far between. With Jeff, it didn't matter. I'll think of Jeff when the hawks soar by, when the honey is sweet, when it's olive pickin' time, when I ski up Dana, or it's just time to dance and get all crazy when someone starts pluckin' at a banjo. Jeff - you will be deeply missed as there is now one less truly awesome, big-hearted, spunky human being in this world.
Shauna