On the Edge with Tom Whittaker
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Written by Tom Whittaker
Published through WE Magazine
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In August 1978, I was a graduate assistant for the outdoor program at Idaho State University in Pocatello, pursuing an M.A. in Student Personnel work with a focus on adventure education. I was 30, with both feet, climbing the hardest mountaineering classics and making as many first ascents as I could get my teeth into. One morning, Dave Lovejoy, a 23-year-old ex-Marine, going to School on the GI Bill, came bounding into the Outdoor Program Office looking for adventure.
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Beyond an infectious enthusiasm and appetite for life, David had the physical, mental and personal qualities that made him an outstanding rock climber. Where others would be paralyzed with self doubt, David would commit and forge ahead. Decisiveness not only gets you to the top, in mountaineering, it keeps you alive.
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Climbing is a crucible of fire. It forges friendships of trust in a way that few peace time activities can. When we found ourselves in a perilous situation we could trust each other's experience and judgment to provide the solution. As the mountains succumbed to our affections, I realized that this climbing partnership was special. In a short time the two of us had an array of first ascents on rock and ice in Idaho, Montana, Colorado, and Utah.
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Before making our impact on the climbing world, David’s star took him back to Maine and two months later I was contemplating shattered legs and an amputation from a hospital bed. Hearing the news David hitch-hiked, in the middle of winter, from Maine to Pocatello with the intent of nursing me back to health. Surviving the accident was one thing, but my wheelchair surviving David Lovejoy was another. With him in charge, the chair didn’t last two weeks.
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After taking delivery of a prosthetic foot we were determined to see how it performed, and in late September 1980, we headed into the Grand Tetons to climb the North Face route. On the evening of the second day, as darkness descended, we climbed to the Upper Saddle. With painful knees and a raw stump I could go no further, and David and I prepared for a night at 13,000 feet without tent or sleeping bag. We survived the night without any further loss of toes, and David became a master carpenter. I recently told David I was planning an addition to my house to accommodate my expanding family. After a week of pounding nails we drove to my secret crag, arriving after dark. We woke up to granite domes. By 7:30 in the morning we were standing underneath a 150-foot crack that demanded our immediate attention.
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While climbing again with David, I had time to contemplate a friendship that had encompassed huge personal changes. Unrealized potential is always bitter medicine, but how sweet is a friendship that endures for a quarter century across thousands of miles? David’s appetite for adventure has not dulled any more than mine. Although his body fat has gone from five to 15 percent and my less than delicate footwork has become even more heavy-footed, a glimmer of the old magic’s still there: the excitement of a new adventure still runs like fire in our veins.
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