On a cold, dark day at the end of December I lost a close friend and climbing partner, Super Rupert Rosedale, in an avalanche on Ben Nevis. In a story on the traverse of the Chamonix Aiguilles I wrote of him:
Super is a true British alpinist in the finest tradition – nothing like the ones who seem to come over for the sole purpose of hurling themselves down crevasses or freezing to death in previously forecast storms. Nope, Super is fast and talented over both rock and ice, solid with his protection, with an ability to laugh in the face of stuck ropes and spilled brews.
Super was a teacher. He taught people, young and old, how to enjoy life and experience first-hand the overwhelming beauty of nature. Man, he was good at that. He was less than a year from completing his guides’ exam, he was rebuilding a house in Vallorcine with his bare hands, living the dream with his wonderful wife and beautiful children. In going through my photos and climbing books since the day that Mathieu called me with the bad news, through the heart-warming memories and the silent tears, I’ve come to realize that I’ve climbed in Chamonix with Super more than any other partner. It’s just crazy how close you become to someone when you tie into a rope and achieve what seems like the impossible together. How long, intense days followed by cold, endless bivvies bring out the best and worst in a person. Luckily for those whose lives he touched, Super had an overabundance of best. Lord, how I’m going to miss him.
Rest in peace, my friend. Rest in peace.