Ken had grown up without a father, but his kindly neighbors Ben and Cia Gadd had taken him under their wing, inviting him out on climbing days along with their two sons, Toby and Will. Unbeknownst to most people in the bar that night, Ken at only 23 had already established himself as an up-and-coming climber in the Canadian Rockies.
He was smiling as he put them on, showing them off while explaining to the many perplexed onlookers that the boots were going to take him up frozen waterfalls and icy north faces that winter. I met him in 1990, as Ken was in Jasper’s Astoria Bar unwrapping a pair of pink double-plastic climbing boots that had just arrived in the mail. Very few people forget meeting Ken Wallator, a blond-haired, blue-eyed Viking of a man who always looked as if he’d just returned from some epic voyage. Ken Wallator, 52, Between December 14 and 21
We wish it were far smaller, while taking comfort in the accounts of those who lived long, fulfilling and often extremely impressive natural lifespans. This year’s is our biggest compilation yet. We always encourage you to add photos and remembrances of any others in the comments field. We put effort and heart in the project but cannot cover everyone, and are always sad to leave anyone out, often inadvertently. We feel this compilation is important-maybe the most important thing we do all year. This year has seemed particularly painful in that we have some multiple victims of accidents: two leading alpinists attempting a winter ascent in the Himalaya three in the Canadian Rockies two extremely accomplished and well-prepared young women in the high Sierra. Each year it feels bigger, and bigger means sadder. The people herein span every decade beyond the teens and extend to someone who reached 96.Įach year we compile our annual tribute to Climbers We Lost.
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