When we were sat together on our first day of high school in 1974, it did not take long for Simon and I to develop a friendship and the realisation that we shared a love for the outdoors. As time went on, we found ourselves heading to the lake district by bus to camp, walk, climb boulders, you name it! Before we knew it, others had got interested in our antics. Mates like Richard, Uji, Stan and Barnesy came for backpacking trips, together we had some eye brow raising times. We took up an offer from my late brother Stephen to do some ‘proper’ climbing and climbed Scout Crag in Langdale under experienced guidance. At school, we even coerced our P.E teacher Mr. Birtwhistle and the iconic Mr. Fisk to take us cragging. But rock was not enough. We ventured to the mountains in winter and got a real desire to overcome snow and ice.

As years of practice perfected our skills and having left school, jobs allowed us to buy the gear that was previously unaffordable. So with state of the art boots, crampons and ice axes, we were set for an expedition – Glencoe, Scotland. In February of 1983, we drove up in my Vauxhall Chevette and made camp in the scrub land outside The Clachaig Inn. Next day, we made a direct ascent of Buachaille Etive Mor, the intimidating peak that greets you when entering Glencoe. The plan for day two was an ascent of Reverend Ted’s Gully to the west of the Lost Valley. As Hamish McInnes said in his book, fate is fickle in these matters. The climb was straightforward, but reading the guidebook confused us; due mostly to the fact that we were not in the gully we had anticipated. After a series of ‘schoolboy’ errors, I found myself some 700 feet down the gully, leaving Simon stranded 50 feet from the top. Thanks to the Lochaber Mountain Rescue, we were air lifted off to the comfort of Fort William cottage hospital. The experience had severe consequences. Simon, having to wait 6 hours, alone, freezing, thinking his mate was dead! Myself, alive but battered, nothing that 2 months in hospital couldn’t fix. To quote Hamish again “They were ruddy lucky”.

You may think this was enough to quash any desire to return to such situations, but we did. I thank Simon for his partnership, enthusiasm and inspiration. Losing Simon in this untimely, premature manner is not just devastating, but affords reflection on the good times. And we had plenty of those. I think that following our Glencoe catastrophe, we were both able to refocus on life and where we were both heading, an epiphany you might say. Simon went to polytechnic and I went to college, which started a whole new dimension for us both. Now, many years on, time, careers, families and life have moved us apart. But one thing remains, memories, lots of great memories.