Blog

Spirit

• December 2007
• Uncategorized

I met Alex Fidi, a young Austrian alpinist, in the forest below Fitzroy. It was 2001, the day before Christmas. I had traveled to Patagonia alone, in hopes of finding a partner for the season, and the base camp was pretty deserted. I was setting up my tent, and organizing my home for the next couple of months, when Alex and his partner Wolfgang walked over. The two Austrians had been there for a month, and were also feeling the solitude of this quiet, stormy Christmas time. They invited me over to the hut they’d moved into, and made some pasta for our Christmas dinner.


Alex told me how beautiful Christmas always was in Austria, spending the days surrounded by family, playing musical instruments and singing together and going out into the snow. We all felt a little melancholic in the dank forest waiting for climbing weather instead of being in a more traditional holiday environment. But it was good to share food and thoughts, and I left that trip having made two new friends.

The next year, Alex came to Moab to climb in the desert. He was so charismatic and friendly, that he naturally made friends everywhere he went. When he told me he’d be coming, I advised him to take a shuttle van from Salt Lake to Moab, and that I would pick him up on Main Street from the van’s dropoff point. Instead, Alex showed up on my doorstep, having made friends with the driver along the way, who offered to drive him directly to my house. During his weeks in Moab, he climbed with everyone who was around that season, as much as possible–desert towers, Indian Creek splitters, Mill Creek sandstone. I was working on a project at the Creek, and he belayed me, which was really special for me.

But what I remember most were our conversations about Alex’s little sister, Ingrid. He adored her, and loved talking about her–how well she was doing in college, what a great skiier and climber and biker she was. I felt like I knew Ingrid.

Alex died in an avalanche on a mountain in Peru, the next big trip he took after his desert visit. Everyone in Moab was crushed, as were so many people around the world who knew and loved Alex. A few months after Alex’s death, I got an email from Ingrid, whom I had never yet met or corresponded with. An amazing poet and beautiful spirit, she inspired me with her wonderful words in English, a second language for her as it was for Alex. It’s a real gift to get her loving, spiritual messages, which she continues to send me. Alex is gone, but he left me the gift of knowing his little sister, although we’ve never yet met.

Every Christmas, I think of Alex a lot, and the first Christmas we spent together in the forest in Patagonia. He was such a glowing, vibrant person, that it makes me happy to think of his big smile and energetic step. I asked Ingrid if I could share some of her photos of Alex and her beautiful letters here, as a remembrance of Alex this season…….
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Dear Steph,
It is some time ago when you heard from me… Wow, you were at my homecountry – in Austria…in my beloved Alps.
Life is quite good at the moment. During the week I try to manage all the stuff at work – I need some money, you know – a poor student. But every freetime I am somewhere outside. I love the silence, the mountains, all the wonders around us – I love to watch a squirrel, to see the gentle flapping of bird´s wings, to listen to the sounds of wind, to run in the rain, to look at the stars and bluecorn moon, to lie in the grass, to watch the mystical fog over the fields, to think about the long life of a tree, to smell the scents of flowers, to be amazed at the different colors of the leafs, to blow into the glittering fresh snow, to look at an ant-hill… Never forget the abilitiy to be astounded, never forget how a child is beaming with joy when it is running into the arms of a loving person…
Climbing is so important for me – feeling the rock and yourself, enjoying the moves. Every cm of rock has its meaning…and here develops the synthesis of man and rock; rock becomes human, the human becomes fossilized…And everytime I feel my brother so strong. A few days ago I looked at some pictures of Moab from Alex. I think this one is one of you…is it?
Look at the sky and try to realize the freedom, the vastness of life.
The magic of life is born in small things…Keep your balance, Ingrid

dear steph,
life is so wonderful and the best thing is to be outside, breathe the fresh air and feel your freedom. i wish you and all the people you love a magical christmas time. there are so many wonders around us, we just have to open our heart and let us guide from it.
never forget the shiny eyes of children and believe in flowers on the moon. **ingrid*
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On Friday night, Dean’s father Tony died in his sleep, in New Hampshire. We can hardly believe it. Tony was 71, a retired Army Colonel, and one of the gentlest, most principled people I’ve known. He spent his days chopping wood with his brother Bob, fly fishing, putting out sunflower seeds for the bears that came to his back porch, hiking with his dog Harry, and playing with his grandchildren.

Tony often sent Dean and me wonderful letters, in which he told us how proud he was of us for taking a wild path in life, and how we should continue to have the courage to follow that path. Yesterday, we got the Christmas card he had sent last week, which shows an eagle soaring in front of a rocky mountain face. He wrote us he was feeling healthy and happy, and that he loved to think of us flying wingsuits together. He included some newspaper clippings about wingsuit flyers.

When I think of Tony, I think of his kind blue eyes, his gentle words, and his calm aura. He taught through example a simple life of pure integrity. He had spent that last day, when Dean and I were flying home from Italy, shoveling snow off his roof and visiting with family. Then, while waiting for some Christmas carolers to come by, he lay down in his bed and peacefully passed away.

I’ve never been sure of my feelings about Christmas in years past. My spirituality is not limited to one faith, and I struggle with the feelings we all have about commercialism and holiday pressures. But now Christmas for me has evolved into a time of cherishing important people who are no longer here. I see that everything in this life is fleeting, except for love. Tony is not here now, nor is Alex, or many of the other beloved people I have known. But my love for them lasts, and continues to grow, and I feel it every time I think of them. They have become for me representatives of the wonderful qualities they showed in life, and they remind me to aspire toward those qualities in my own life. These winter days feel more beautiful and poignant now. They are filled with the loved ones I have known, most especially those who aren’t here with me in body, but even more so in spirit.

Merry Christmas,
Love,
Steph