In reply to David Alcock:
> Woke up dead - died in his sleep. He'd have preferred the more spiky version.
Yes, David, he definitely would have!
Am stunned to hear of Steve's death. Sadly, I'm getting more and more used to my elders and contemporaries leaving us but when it's someone substantially younger...
To state the appallingly obvious: Steve had an amazing mind. I used to read some of his stuff and think, 'Where on earth do these thoughts come from?' It was like going from black and white to a myriad of colours. I can't begin to imagine being able to think like that.
The first post of his on here that I can remember was a speculation about grit history. I - perhaps excessively - took him to task about it in no uncertain terms. He - to his vast credit - took it in good spirit. I was impressed. About six months later, there was an incident where some characters (geology teachers/students?) had chipped in Shipley Glen and it somehow made the national news. Steve turned up, did a little interview with the television crew, put it all in perspective, explained why it mattered to us climbers. (Sure, there are a ton of chipped holds from previous generations but that's not the point...) He did it really well, didn't demonise, dealt with things in ever such a mature manner.
A while later, he enquired about some OK E5s in Yorkshire. All I could say was, "Oxymoron alert! Get down to Derbyshire and get a load of wires in above your head." Shortly afterwards he took a bad fall and was obviously in considerable pain. Sutty, bless him, said, "Stop fecking around with painkillers and get yourself down to A & E." Thankfully Steve did and thankfully he recovered.
Living a couple of miles up the road from where I'd once lived, inevitably we knew people in common. When I mentioned an old climbing partner getting the high-altitude shagging record on Annapurna, Steve could correct me and point out that it was Annapurna IV. He didn't mention that the naughty boy lived next door to him!
Marc Twight, Dr Death himself, once wrote about all the people he knew who'd gone. He said, "Don't leave it. Pick up the phone. Go see them." Words of cosmic wisdom.
I always meant to meet Steve, have a coffee or a beer, maybe even go climbing with him. (That would have been great.) But I didn't. Complacency is the enemy. You fondly imagine that people will be around forever. Even when there's a tsunami of evidence that this isn't the case, you still persist with the ridiculous illusion. But people won't be around forever. Sadly, I'll never meet Steve now.
What remains - far more important than that amazing intellect - was Steve's humanity. Sure, he hid behind a mask of wryness but, my God, he cared. He never stopped caring. And, in our crazy, ever so f*cked up world, the more you care, the more likely it is that you'll pay a price. My guess is that Steve paid a high price but that he also paid it knowingly and willingly.
This place. Plato's cave, innit? Shadows on the wall... ("It's life, Jim - but not as we know it.") You make connections with people you've never met. And something of them remains in you.
I can't take any of Steve's intellect with me; just don't have the capacity. But his humanity - yes. And, right now, humanity is probably the most valuable currency around.
So thank you, Steve. Maybe we'll meet on the other side. Who knows? If so, it can't be any stranger than Yorkshire.
Cosmic hugs, mate.
And much love,
Mick xxx