I honestly don't know why Dano's death has hit me so hard. I had lost contact with him years ago, and efforts to reestablish contact 2 years ago were unsuccessful. And truthfully, we only knew each other for a few weeks, albeit through the bond of long distance (through) hiking.
Perhaps it was because of those few weeks. We saw eye to eye on a great many things. We also disagreed on quite a few things. We had many great discussions "after hours" - that is, upon ending the day and setting up camp, eating, gathering water, etc. in preparation for the next day of hiking along the Pacific Crest Trail. We were both on it long before it became the "popular" thing to do. And perhaps it is my nostalgia for hiking and the outdoors(something I'm not likely to be able to do much of these days) that is at the heart of why this hits me so hard, despite that I never knew him all that long.
Yet unlike today's society, I quickly learned that while we disagreed on some rather fundamental and serious things, he was not one who would simply abandon you merely because you and he disagreed on some particular point. Oddly enough, I only remember those disagreements from my own trail log of those days. He actually seemed to value dissenting opinion or contrary points of view. Not knowing him since, I cannot comment on whether this trait continued, but from the few things I read, it sure seemed that it did.
And honestly, as I reflect on my trail log from those weeks in September of 1988, the positives far outweighed our "disagreements" anyhow. I think of the layover at White Pass Washington, where we were sitting in a small cafe waiting out a minor storm, in order to head back onto the trail. I recall our discussion there (see below), and how we eventually "saved" the store and Post Office when a blower unit on the back of the store caught fire and he and I ended up putting the fire out before it did any real damage.
I remember the day shortly after we first met, where he offered to take a photo of me with the northern peaks in the background (the lead photo here was of Dano, and the next on the roll from that day), and what eventually led to a couple of weeks of hiking and camping together, until the weather forced me to make a decision to end my hike (a decision I've regretted most of my life since). I remember how outgoing he always was, and how he always found a reason to smile and laugh.
I remember how we disagreed on matters of religion and faith. Granted, at that age, I was a spiritual infant, with he not far behind me in that arena. I often found myself in the years since, wondering how his views may or may not have evolved or changed, and given that I am a pastor today, look at his death now from one standpoint: Had he come to know who Jesus truly was? Truthfully, having not stayed in contact these past 30 years means I know little to nothing about him, in reality, outside of his somewhat hermit-like existence in Alaska, that he made a conscious choice not to battle cancer a second time, and that he continued to love the outdoors, as I do.
I know little else, but that he and I were quite alike in many ways. In fact, much of what I remember comes straight from the trail log from that summer, which jars and stirs my memory back to those days. Here is one such entry from our resupply and layover at White Pass, Washington: "Dano was trying to write a letter to someone, but he had nothing to say. He didn’t want to write pages on end of the “physical experiences,” and didn’t write of the other experiences because no one understands those. Most people only want to hear about the physical side of it, like slide shows, etc... I thought a lot about that and we talked about it too. Most of this hike will remain forever unknown to most people. I realized that the mental and spiritual experiences are by far the biggest..." (PCT Journal, September 7/Day 136 1988)
It is that spiritual experience of seeing God's handiwork and creation that in part leads me to do what I do today. So perhaps as I always do at the death of anyone and appeal to the mercy of Almighty God on their behalf, I say "good bye my old friend." Rest eternal grant him, O LORD, and may perpetual light shine upon him. Amen.
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