walker
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You are not forgotten Mr. Waterman. You will never be forgotten.
14 Years Ago Today (2014-FEB-06)
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Tom_Murphy
Member
I have read my copies Wilderness Ethics and Backcountry Ethics a few times each. They are still very relevant today.
KPMMBM
Member
RIP, much of what we all enjoy today is thanks to him and those like him. Until recently, I didn't know the circumstances around his death. I'm torn between a sad ending or a fitting ending or both.
erugs
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sierra
Well-known member
People who spend a lot of their time in the mountains, leave their souls there when they leave. I met Guy, a legend in my eyes.
Creag Nan Drochaid
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I do not know to what extent the AMC or RMC and others require the reading of Guy and Laura's chapters on trail stabilization and hiker psychology in the alpine zone, but I read them every so often for their insights, as well as offering them to other trail tenders. Laura is of course very active with the Waterman Fund set up in his memory, and they just had their 8th biennial gathering for presenting research and networking. I feel Guy was looking down and nodding approval.
Can't say I knew him, but did encounter him at an Alpine Stewards gathering at Moosilauke Ravine Lodge in May or June 1994. People were gathered in the main hall greeting and refreshing that Friday evening. I was circulating and offering drams from the Laphroig I was carrying, but not too many were interested, so I landed it on a wee roond table in a corner of the room. Suddenly there was Guy on my left wearing his MacNeil of Barra tartan tam, me in my Scott kilt, and a Graham from New York... three Scotsmen from the hills and a bottle of peaty malt... there's no place like home, the talk flowed with the water of life, and the bottle's life was short and its death honorable.
Slainte mhath, Guy Creag nan drochaid
Can't say I knew him, but did encounter him at an Alpine Stewards gathering at Moosilauke Ravine Lodge in May or June 1994. People were gathered in the main hall greeting and refreshing that Friday evening. I was circulating and offering drams from the Laphroig I was carrying, but not too many were interested, so I landed it on a wee roond table in a corner of the room. Suddenly there was Guy on my left wearing his MacNeil of Barra tartan tam, me in my Scott kilt, and a Graham from New York... three Scotsmen from the hills and a bottle of peaty malt... there's no place like home, the talk flowed with the water of life, and the bottle's life was short and its death honorable.
Slainte mhath, Guy Creag nan drochaid
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