I'll never forget when Caleb and Randy welcomed me to Yosemite in October, 2017. I arrived late on a Friday night, just in time to find them with Audrey at the Valley Visitor's Center watching the end of Chris Sharma's presentation for the Facelift cleanup event. I was still reeling from a quick stop in the meadow below El Capitan, where I had to pull over to gape up at the stars, taking in the hugeness of it all. Big hugs - yes, my first real trip to Yosemite. Had it been two years? It felt like nothing had changed.
We met up with Caleb and the crew to crag the next day, and that evening we caught up over dinner at their campground. The next day I would remark to a friend how comforting it was to see those guys - still upbeat, still funny, still climbing hard, still best friends, still living the adventure. The only thing that had changed, I would say, is that Caleb was nicer. He had always been nice, but somehow it felt like that raw, competitive, energetic camaraderie had matured since college. Caleb was the same fun, talented, charismatic guy - but kinder now, somehow more graceful, humble and welcoming.
Thinking about the world without Caleb makes me want to be more like him - both the Caleb I knew at Dartmouth and the older version I met up with in Yosemite this fall. Our friendship existed mostly through a shared passion for rock climbing, to which Caleb brought a unique mix of competition, friendship and guidance. I remember quick trips to Rumney after class; training in the bouldering gym on campus; pushing each other to climb harder in Red Rock, NV over spring break. Looking back at climbing photos I see Caleb belaying my first 5.13 send, a blue dot far below me as the snow fell on a late fall day at Rumney. I also remember when we climbed "Flesh for Lulu" (12a) at Rumney by clipping just three bolts, because we read it had been done that way by the first ascensionist. No one else had the boldness, commitment or drive to do stuff like that. It was contagious. Caleb was always pushing it, having fun and bringing others along for the ride. His passion and talent seemed effortless. I miss him, and I know he will inspire me for a long time.
