MINTURN — If you never heard of Brendan Olson before today, you probably never will again.
Ashes, just days old, have been spread, glasses tipped, tears shed. From this point, grief lingers more quietly, although certainly for some time to come.
We lost Brendan in a tragic rock-climbing accident at Canyonlands National Park in Utah last weekend. An anchor bolt failed as he rappelled from the crest of an enticing spire. At age 47, the Vail ski patroller and father of two from Minturn was gone in a horrifying instant, as his daughter looked on.
Like the man himself, the story was not one to make headlines. To my knowledge — limited as it may be — he had made only one in the 20 years or so prior, after our first meeting at the base of a daunting ice feature in East Vail known as The Fang. I snapped some photos and wrote a story for the local weekly paper. Brendan would remind me of that every so often rather than bragging about a different, more impressive feat, of which there were many.
Over the course of the next two decades, he’d go on to climb 22,837-foot Aconcagua in the Argentinian Andes, the highest point in the Southern Hemisphere and the highest mountain outside Asia. Just last year, he claimed his second of the Seven Summits with a successful bid of the more technically demanding Denali in Alaska, North America’s tallest peak at 20,237 feet.
Between the epics, there was no shortage of compact adventures, whether ski mountaineering in Colorado, climbing towers of ice or rock spires in the desert Southwest. But you won’t find any of the footage on YouTube, and Brendan certainly couldn’t be bothered to bring along a helmet camera.
If you didn’t stumble upon him at the proper moment in the local saloon, you might never hear of his exploits, easily underestimating the quiet prowess of a skilled man of the mountains who doubled, as at least one friend noted, as a mountain of a man.
Those he knew would gird themselves for the signature Brendan bearhug sure to preface the tale, then prod reluctant highlights between attempts to deflect attention back to you. Failing that, conversation might turn to his 15-year-old daughter Camille, whom he first taught to climb on a boulder near their home, or 11-year-old Nicholas, whose reverence will probably grow soon enough into a reflection of his father.
Like the rest of us, Brendan had his flaws, and questions will linger alongside contemplation of a life lost far too soon. But so too will passion and inspiration and an infectiously genuine love for the mountains and outdoors that would move anyone to appreciate and share such devotion. There will always be risks, but in them, he understood, we may find profound, lifelong reward.
The last time I saw Brendan, near the end of ski season in Vail, played out like so many times before: a big smile, a hardy hug and the heartfelt praise for a story recently written about someone he had never met. We couldn’t know then that it would be the last time our lives would intersect, but if it was, it would end with an embrace, an affirmation.
Even if you never heard of Brendan Olson before today, consider yourself a part of his legacy simply for having read this. Climbing to Brendan, as another friend noted, was a spiritual undertaking, symbolic not only of life’s many challenges but myriad opportunities to learn and grow and teach. That spirit lives on and hopefully will never be forgotten in this most difficult lesson.
Anyone so moved can share Brendan’s spirit for teaching by granting underprivileged kids an opportunity to learn to rock climb. His family has established a memorial fund and asks that any donations be made to the “Brendan Olson Climbing Scholarship Donation” at US Bank, P.O. Box 3219, Avon, CO 81620-3219. Brendan would be honored.
Scott Willoughby: swilloughby@denverpost.com or
