Tributes for Don Forest

	A Tribute by Mike Mortimer		The Land of Beyond
	Eulogy by Mike Simpson		A Poem Recited by Dick Howe
	One of his favourite poems		Old Friends

December 3, 2003

Don Forest: A Tribute by Dale Portman

When I think of Don Forest I think of mountains, I think of his family; three daughters and a son, two of them educators, two of them park wardens and I think of Robert Service.

Don Forest with Peggy and Kathy

I think of Peggy who always kept the home fires burning and a light in the window, so they could find there way home from their many forays and adventures in the mountains. In this fashion they forged a consistent and intimate relationship with the landscape and wilderness around them, all the while preserving strong family values.

I think of the last time I saw him. He was laying by the trail, next to a nice, roaring fire, swaddled in anoraks, sweaters and packs. He had just passed on and his daughter Kathy was standing by his side. He was finally warm and he reminded me so much of Sam McGee.

I also think of Don's extended family; the Grizzly Group, the Alpine Club of Canada, the Calgary Mountain Club and the Warden Service. He embraced them all with his gentle and patient manner.

As a matter of fact, in hindsight with regard to Parks Canada, Don and the Grizzly group saw the inside of more warden cabins than some seasonal wardens. The only difference was they had this habit of entered through the windows. In later years, Kathy, Randy, Sylvia and I, broke them, of that, by giving them a key. As Walt Davis put it; "When we broke into the odd warden cabin they were always so clean and tidy."

Some of the crusty old Brits of the CMC would have said that's the result of "Anal Retentiveness" while a few of the more stodgy and conservative, among the Alpine Club would have said it was the result of some minor dedication to discipline and professionalism.

Don could be considered the 'David Thompson' of his time, who felt equally at home, whether it was the Hudson Bay company or the Nor'westers of the fur trade era. It's an analogy that comes to mind in defining the two mountaineering groups today. They have different approaches but always arrive at the same goal.

Don was famous for taking a wound to the head to spare the rest of his body and I can remember something that exemplified it all so well. On a fall outing of the Alpine Club of Canada to the Little Yoho Valley up on the President Glacier, a young man was swept into a crevasse by a innocent avalanche, much too early in the season for that sort of thing.

I flew in with Jim Davis under his helicopter and landed amongst some who are here today.
Out of this filled crevasse pops, Don Forest, with a wound on his forehead, a nasty looking affair and said, "Hi Dale," like nothing was there. Seconds later up pops Sylvia with an ice axe in her hand and this great toothy grin. "Hi Dale." It was obviously turning into old home week, because soon after, who should fly in under the helicopter but Kathy with the whole thing repeating itself. "Hi Kathy," followed by "Oh hi Sylvia, Oh hi Dad what are you doing here."
This amongst all these alpine cluber's who are frantically trying to dig down to this buried individual.

Don received the wound in true fatherly fashion, as Sylvia flailed away at the snow with the adze part of her ice axe, Don bent over her to see how his youngest daughter was doing.
He got to close and on a back swing she nailed him between the eyes with the pointy end.
Stunned and dazed and with blood all around, he shook his head and then looked up to see me coming in. Totally forgotten was the blow to the head.

This puts it all together for me today; head wounds, family and friends, the mountains, mountain rescue, the Alpine Club, the Mountain Club, the Grizzly Group and the Warden Service all woven together in one big tapestry of mountain culture.

What we can take from all of this is that he exuded a fresh and exuberant, zest for life.
You couldn't contain it, it would always overflow whatever chalice or container you tried to put it in. It was contagious to all of us who were fortunate to be around him.

We are here today in a church celebrating Don's life more for Peggy's sake than Don's.
For Don's cathedral was the mountains. And no better way to be closer to his maker than be standing on the top of one. It was here that he found that gentle hand that rested on his shoulder, giving him so much confidence as a mountaineer and in raising such an amazing family. On Thursday he found a key that unlocked a door and as an Engineer, he finally met a decent architect.

In his later years as age caught up to him, he often went to the top of 'Prairie Peak' with his family and friends, where he would point out his many comrades off in the distance, spiking the horizon. It is his spirit that will always cement a bond amongst us here today.
For when we head off to the distant hills, he will be there with us in memory.

Don Forest: A Tribute by Mike Mortimer (Alpine Club of Canada)

On August 18, 1979 Don Forest ascended Mt Lunette and stepped into the mountaineering history of Western Canada. For the next 25 years, Don was to play the role of the Alpine Club of Canada’s senior mountaineer: a role he would play with such a sense of humility that left people, who met Don for the first time, wondering if this man really was the “Tiger of the Rockies”. Not only was Don that great tiger but he was also one of the finest men that it has been my good fortune to have known.

My name is Mike Mortimer and for more than 25 years I had the privilege of moving in the same society as Don Forest. Like him l am a past president of the ACC and a member of both the American Alpine Club, the Calgary Mountain Club as well as a long time member of the Banff Mountain Film Festival.

All of these organizations were to play important roles in Don’s later years: Occasions of which l was fortunate enough to participate in.

I was the chairman of the Calgary Section of the ACC in 1979 when Don was wrapping up his 52 ‘ 11’000 climbs. I remember the excitement of the event and the pleasure everyone felt when Don achieved his goal. Over the years l had many opportunities to enjoy Don’s company in the backcountry. Whether it was on the Columbia Icefields, the cliffs of Yamnuska or canoeing down the Yukon river into Dawson City, l will always have this image in my mind of Don: his cheerfulness, the neat campsite and the cure-all-ills - his snakebite medicine!!

I was at the Annual Meeting when Don was awarded his honorary membership in the ACC. It was given to Don to honour his “Contributions to Canadian mountaineering” (Forgive me, but you are going to hear the words “recognition, honour and contributions” repeatedly during the following discourse) In 1991, l was backstage at the Eric Harvey theatre at the Banff Mountain Film Festival when Don was presented with the Bill March Summit of Excellence Award. This was an attestation by the whole mountaineering community of Don’s contributions. These recognitions continued when in 1991, Don, along with his friend Glen Boles, was made honorary members of the Calgary Mountain Club. Don had served as its president in 1979.

Don’s final honor from the ACC came in 1995 when he was given the A.O.Wheeler Citation. The criteria being “For outstanding and varied contributions to the Alpine Club of Canada over many years” This included his work as president of the club in 1975/76 and the many other roles he represented the club during his long association with it. Yet the public acknowledgement of Don’s achievements and good character continued. In 2000 l had the privilege of introducing Don as the Patron of the 2000 Mountain Guides’ Ball at the Chateau Lake Louise. The president of the Japanese Alpine Club was in attendance. Don was enthralled. His daughter, Sylvia, had been a member of the recent Japanese/Canadian Mt. Alberta team. It was an evening to make you proud.

Don Forest with Nancy Hansen

In 2002 he was at the Guides ball when Sylvia was awarded her full Guides badge of certification. This was the same year that the Publications Committee of the Alpine Club of Canada published its story on The Grizzly Group. Yet Don’s final award was given only three weeks ago at the last Mountain Guides’ Ball when he presented a copy of his biography “Don Forest: Quest for the Summits”, written by his daughter Kathy, to Nancy Hansen; the first women to climb all the 11,000’s in the Rockies” A famous event and how appropriate that this would have been Don’s last public act. What a legacy to have passed on! As Chic Scott said: “He was never stodgy nor did he talk down to young climbers. He was always youthful and he was bold.” For me he was a great mountaineer and a great westerner. I would like to quote the mountaineer Wilfred Noyce who said: We are doing what we came into the world to do. We are affected not only by the beauty or majesty of our environment, but … by the total something in it, which has been calling us from all time.

However the last words must belong to Robert Service

The Land of Beyond

Have ever you heard of the Land of Beyond,
That dreams at the gates of the day?
Alluring it lies at the skirts of the skies,
And ever so far away;
Alluring it calls: O ye the yoke galls,
And ye of the trail overfond,
With saddle and pack, by paddle and track,
Let's go to the Land of Beyond!

Thank God! there is always a Land of Beyond
For us who are true to the trail;
A vision to seek, a beckoning peak,
A farness that never will fail;
A pride in our soul that mocks at a goal,
A manhood that irks at a bond,
And try how we will, unattainable still,
Behold it, our Land of Beyond!

A Poem Recited by Dick Howe (Calgary Mountain Club)

Always remember to forget
The things that made you sad.
But never forget to remember
The things that made you glad.
Always remember to forget
The friends that proved untrue.
But don't forget to remember
Those who have stuck by you.
Always remember to forget
The troubles that came your way.
But never forget to remember
The blessings that come each day.

Eulogy for Don Forest by Mike Simpson (member of the Grizzly Group)

Don was born in 1920, the year the Alpine Club held its 15th annual camp, the Jubilee Encampment at Mt. Assiniboine. The Canadian Alpine Journal records the only significant event being the death of Dr. Stone on the first ascent of Mt Eon. In 1988 Don and the Grizzly Group did a new route on Mt Eon and recalled this event. Don was 68 and by then had climbed well over 400 mountains, a large number with his close knit buddies, the Grizzly Group.

Do you ever wonder what makes a person special and successful? Could it be determination, commitment, trustworthiness, toughness, integrity? Don had all of these and more.

Every spring, as a group, we would set a schedule of climbs for the season. Every weekend was booked, but it was Don’s determination that made it happen. On Thursday night he would call and say “We’ve scheduled such and such, let’s beat it in there this weekend.” He was totally committed to making iot happen. The weather didn’t matter, even if it was pelting rain or snowing we went. It was that kind of enthusiasm that rubbed off on all of us. His commitment to the climb was tenacious. If we were waffling over whether to attempt climbing a difficult route he would always say: “We won’t know until we rub our nose in it.” He was right.

Although the mountain was the goal, the journey was all important. It was a holistic experience of flowers, geology, photography, the whole environment, the ‘freedom of the hills’ that bonded us together. Don took courses in flower identification, rock formations and all things living. We trusted him implicitly until he took the dreaded course on mushrooms. As an instant expert he would say, “Let’s try this one or that one”-and it was only then, in fear of the magic mushroom, that we lost trust in him.

Toughness can be measured mentally and physically. Don’s busy life, balancing a large family, a consulting business and an active social life often had him going to bed after midnight, only to be awakened at 3:30 or 4:00 am by us picking him up for a climb.

Never did this stop him. He carried a heavy pack and for many years we climbed 120,000 feet and wore out 2 or 3 pairs of boot soles. He was physically tough. Mentally he was a bull-dog. He would set his mind and do it persevering until he achieved his objective.

Integrity encompasses all these attributes and won Don the respect of all who knew him. When he was talking to you, you were the most important person in his life. He was a great role model. But, Don had some eccentricities. The worst was when we came across a berry patch. He would drop his pack, roll up his sleeves and get down to some serious picking. Raspberries and huckleberries were the best. Coming out of Robson he almost pushed a bear out of the raspberries only to come out smiling ear to ear with his face totally stained with berry juice.

Sleeping on the job is considered a problem in most circles. Don was a master at cap napping. It became almost a ritual. At lunch he would nap, we would sneak off and continue climbing and he would come scrambling up, huffing and puffing. One time on a narrow ledge, with our backs to the wall and our feet dangling in space, Don went to sleep. One of us caught him as he was nodding off the ledge.

Don had an affinity for the bush. He liked to camp in it and bushwack through it, and the success of the trip was often measured by how many places he was bleeding from. His shins would be scraped, his hands and arms scratched and his head banged. At camp we hung our food in trees safe from bears. We would tie a rock on the end of a rope and throw it high over the branch to pull up our food sacks. One time Don was diligently throwing the rock and rope up when it bounced off the tree, hitting him in the head, causing a neat cut, which of course added to his wounded appearance and the success of the trip.

Don was so keen he would charge off sometimes in the wrong direction, always correcting quickly, but we often thought that we would lose the Forest in the trees.

He enjoyed fires. The first thing at camp was a fire and he would pull out a little sack with a little black tea pot and boil tea. The pot came from a legendary pack that contained everything needed to fix anything-but weighted far too much.

Some of the most special times were after a successful climb- You would stop in the high alpine by a babbling btook, amidst the followers, and looking out at vast ranges of mountains realize your place in creation. Maybe it’s the closest we can get to Valhalla on earth and certainly as you sit in total quiet with your closest friends it’s a special time. Don will be missed here.

For all of you fortunate enough to have traveled the mountains, the ski trails and the rivers with Don, and in particular the Grizzly Group, who for more than 30 years have enjoyed the camaraderie and unconditional friendship that he brought to the table…Thank you Don!

Don loved Robert Service. This was one of his favourite poems:

I hailed me a women from the street
Shameless, but, oh, so fair
I bade her sit in the model’s seat
And l painted her sitting there.

I hid all trace of her heart unclean;
I painted a bade at her breast;
I painted her as she might have been
If the worst had been the best.

She laughed at my picture and went away
Then came, with a knowing nod,
A connoisseur, and l heard him say;
“Tis Mary, the Mother of God.”

So l painted a halo round her hair,
And l sold her, and took my fee,
And she hangs in the Church of St Hilaire,
Where you and all may see

I can just visualize Don dressed in his climbing gear witting in the belay position on a ledge in Heaven, probably with a halo at a jaunty angle, when God appears and asks: What are you doing Don?” and his reply: “I’m doing what l do best-belaying my friends and family up.

A Poem Recited by Glen Boles

Old Friends

There are no friends like old friends
and none so good and true,
We greet them when we meet them
as roses greet the dew.
No other friends are dearer,
though born of kindred mold;
and while we prize the new ones,
we treasure more the old.

There are no friends like old friends
where ere we dwell or roam,
in lands beyond the ocean
or nearer the bounds of home.
And where they smile to gladden,
or sometimes frown to guide,
we fondly wish those old friends
were always by our side.

There are no friends like old friends,
to calm our frequent fears,
when shadows fall and deepen
through lifes declining years.
And when our faltering footsteps
approach the great divide
we long to meet the old friends
who wait on the other side.