Chris Weidner: A mislaid goodbye to Colorado traveller Dave Pegg
November 19, 2014 - accent chair
I wish we hadn’t looked during my phone a morning of Sunday, Nov. 9.
The summary read, “Do u know what happened to Dave pegg??? Just review on fb he died! Totally shocked. we wish we could contend goodbye … .”
No, no, no, no, no! It contingency have been a mistake. we only talked to Dave a few weeks ago, and he sounded so happy. So … alive.
I was going to pitch by his bureau nearby Glenwood Springs on my expostulate home from Yosemite this week. We were going to cuddle any other, splash a drink and devise a climbing outing to Utah subsequent spring. we would embrace his British accent, he would moment a smart fun and we would giggle so tough a bellies would ache.
Instead, we sat on a toilet in a exhilarated lavatory of a Yosemite Lodge and review that message. It felt like being punched in a chest, like we couldn’t breathe all a way. My heart pumped faster as an invisible sweeping of difficulty staid over me.
Once we checked Facebook, a difficulty incited to low sadness. He’s unequivocally gone.
Dave Pegg was 47.
Originally from England, he lived on Colorado’s Western Slope given a mid-1990s. All of his time was spent climbing, exploring and bolting new cliffs, training for climbing, essay about climbing (at times he worked for both Climbing and Rock and Ice magazines) or penning and edition climbing guidebooks as a owners of Wolverine Publishing. He was a unqualified “lifer.”
Yet he still gave so many adore and appetite to his many tighten friends and to his wife, Fiona Lloyd.
I initial met Dave in a kind of environment where we would finish adult spending many of a time together: unresolved out in a mud during a limestone climbing area. It was a cold night in Nov 2000 during a decrepit exit off Interstate 15 in Arizona’s Virgin River Gorge. A campfire bright dual unknown faces, though once we beheld their pompous jackets patched with channel fasten we figured they were climbers. we grabbed my stay chair and introduced myself to Dave and Fiona.
Like any enthusiastic traveller behind then, we had listened of Dave’s confidant new routes behind in England and had review his new — mostly waggish — articles. we attempted to censor my fad that night as we substituted stories with a genuine climbing celebrity.
It’s humorous to consider behind on that since Dave never stood on a pedestal. He was receptive and down-to-earth. His tractable impact and broad, toothy grin done it easy to forget his extreme joining to climbing, that was infrequently kaleidoscopic with oppressive self-criticism.
It was even easier to disremember a darker power that frequency surfaced, even around his closest friends.
Now they all substantially feel like we do: hollow, scattered, terribly sad. And pissed off, to be honest. We will never, ever, ever see Dave again since he took his possess life. It was his decision — one we still can’t trust and will never understand.
He was mentally ill, yes. But that’s distant too deceptive and clinical to report what he was going through. In his final months, there seemed to be a vital undo between his viewpoint and reality. But that was temporary, like everything.
Except for death.
I wish he could have accepted how many good options he had; how many people deeply cared for him; how if he could have stayed alive by a dim hole of winter all would demeanour opposite on a other side.
I theory we’ll all be with him on a other side shortly enough.
For now, everybody propitious adequate to know Dave Pegg will remember how he done this universe a small lighter, a small happier and a ruin of a lot some-more fun.
Contact Chris Weidner during email@example.com.