I’ve been climbing for over 50 years now. I’ve had two knee meniscus repairs and a partial knee replacement. A finger on each hand would stick closed from grizzled tendon sheaths that required surgical release. My crooked back creaks. I’ve lost track of the strained tendons and muscles, scraped knuckles and grated fingertips. But my greatest injury among the mountains was a broken heart.

After two years of intense adventures together, my best friend and climbing partner was diagnosed with a slow-growing, fatal brain tumor. Dendritic, resembling a snarled fishing line, it was inoperable. He was given 12 years to live. With brain seizure medication, he managed. For another 10 years we continued to climb across North and South America and shared adventures.

More than anything else I learned from him about friendship, grace and persistence. His degraded balance ended his climbing, and then hiking, and eventually mountain biking.…