It was 10 years ago today that we lost a remarkable Colorado climbing legend. Steve Gladbach passed away on a climb in the Elks mountains on June 23, 2013. He was known by many not only for his accomplishments, but also for his humble spirit and the way he helped so many.
Here is a 5 minute video that was produced to honor him:
Steve, while you are gone, you are still greatly missed.
Remembering Steve Gladbach
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Remembering Steve Gladbach
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TomPierce
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Re: Remembering Steve Gladbach
I have very fond memories of my outings with Steve, wonderful guy. RIP Steve.
-Tom
-Tom
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turbocat
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Re: Remembering Steve Gladbach
Great video Britt, as always. RIP Steve.
When the going gets weird...the weird turn Pro. HST
Re: Remembering Steve Gladbach
Thanks for this post Britt.
I still think about Steve often--his name came up on a hike less than a week ago.
Among his many credits, he had a knack for making people feel awesome while simultaneously kicking their butts.
That his shoes remain unfilled a decade after his passing speaks volumes to his unique strength of personality, character, and ability.
I still think about Steve often--his name came up on a hike less than a week ago.
Among his many credits, he had a knack for making people feel awesome while simultaneously kicking their butts.
That his shoes remain unfilled a decade after his passing speaks volumes to his unique strength of personality, character, and ability.
Re: Remembering Steve Gladbach
Thanks Britt. Hard to believe it’s been ten years. Seems like it was only a year or two ago. He was the poster child for helping and mentoring others. I sure do miss him.
I take the mountain climber's approach to housekeeping - don't look down
Re: Remembering Steve Gladbach
Three years ago, I posted this tribute to Steve after climbing Thunder.
Intro to the thread three years ago:
A little over a week ago a group of 5 climbed Thunder Pyramid. We thought it appropriate to say a few words of remembrance of Steve while on the mountain upon which he perished. I volunteered and then was asked to put it into written form.
I never offered my words of tribute on the original memorial thread, because there were so many. After getting permission from his family, I thought it would be good to share those words of remembrance now after almost 7 years. For those of you who have joined his site since his death, know that he was an important part of shaping the 14ers.com community. He is worth remembering. We lost a giant 7 years ago.
Words of Tribute to Steve while on Thunder Pyramid:
I met Steve nearly 8 years ago at his parent’s house in Roeland Park, KS. At the time, my family lived in the Kansas City, MO area, making several Colorado trips each year to hike and ski. My oldest son was planning to attend Colorado State at Pueblo. From 14ers.com, I knew Steve was a teacher in Pueblo and was widely known as a mentor and Colorado mountain man extraordinaire. As a parent wanting to assist my son’s transition to a new place, I reached out to Steve in hopes that he might include him on an upcoming hike. I messaged him through the web site and almost instantly got a text back. Steve said he was originally from Kansas City and was in town visiting his parents. He invited us over that evening for ice cream.
His parents were sweet and welcoming, reminding me of my own Kansas parents. Steve had read my peak list and one trip report prior to our arrival. We talked endlessly about the mountains and I felt an instant connection, but he did not seem like the magnetic, giant personality I sensed from the forum. Truthfully, he seemed a little socially awkward that evening. He offered a car to my son to drive if he needed while in Pueblo. Who does that for an 18-year-old stranger going to college in a different state? It felt uncomfortably generous.
Several weeks later, Steve called with an invitation to join a group doing Longs via the Loft. It was the finisher peak for fepic1. Upon gathering at the campsite near the trailhead, Steve realized he had forgotten his pants. He found some old tights (I think they were his daughter’s) and borrowed another pair. After he put his cell phone down his pants—he said it was his “Cod piece"— he was good to go. He was no longer the socially awkward guy in Kansas, but the life of the party. I thought to myself that the mountains made him who he was.
Time flew by that day as Steve was one continuous story. The generosity that had surprised me at our first meeting was now extended to everyone on the mountain. He had carried 5 or 6 harnesses in his pack for people to rappel the north face cable route.
On the descent, as we waited at the Boulder field bathrooms, we could hear someone talking from far away. We listened carefully; it was Steve’s voice coming from probably ¼ mile away…with yet another story. Steve had gone into Kentucky Fried Chicken the night before and convinced the staff to sell him all the remaining chicken at a ridiculously cheap price. He hauled up the 2 or 3 buckets of chicken to the summit for everyone to share.
Steve’s stories were not just about his own adventures, but his friends and climbing companions. Not only did one get to know Steve quickly on a hike, but his friends as well. I know personal details about people on this forum that I have never met, for no other reason than Steve was an open book and cared about the people he was around. Everyone that hiked with Steve felt included. It was one of my favorite days I have ever spent in the mountains.
Steve told me a couple of quite personal things that day that would make more sense months later. He had been involved in an avalanche on the Bell Cord many years prior. Two of his partners died and Steve nearly perished. Following that accident, he said he did not cope very well, drinking too much. He was deemed responsible by some and struggled with a debilitating sense of guilt. Following the Long’s climb that evening he was going to offer support to a fellow 14ers.com member struggling with something similar. It was several months later that Steve posted on the forum his well-known, “When I die” post requesting that people stop “analyzing” the causes of each mountaineering accident. In those days on the forum, the “death” threads were some of the most ugly and contentious threads ever. His point was that they did far more damage than good. After his death, it stopped.
That day on Longs, Steve also told me about a letter his Dad wrote to him at a low point in his life. He did not say when it was exactly, but I suspected it was connected to the avalanche aftermath. At the time, Steve was considering moving back to Kansas City. He said his Dad wrote him and encouraged him not to give up on the mountain activities that were so close to his heart. It made a lasting impact and Steve stayed in Colorado. At the time of Steve’s death, there was a post from a family member—I think this was on the forum memorial thread—indicating that his parents were grateful that they had another 20 years with Steve following the first accident. What I find so meaningful about this is the largeness of a parent’s heart for their child that they would encourage them to continue in a significant activity following a near fatal accident only to have that same activity to take their life years later. Steve’s Dad obviously approached his son’s life with an open hand that looked to the fulfillment of his child’s life, fully aware of the risks involved. Sadly, I see the opposite with so many parents: fearfully holding on, refusing to allow the child to go down their own path, preventing them from being who they really are. Echoing the words of John Denver, upon Steve’s first visit to Colorado as a boy, he realized, “he came home to a place he’d never been before.” The largeness of the spirit of Steve originated with his dad’s blessing to continue in this home he’d never been before. The mountains made the man, I believe.
Tragically and indelibly, I also remember that day nearly 7 years ago when Britt pushed the button on the Spot indicating there was trouble in the red hills around Aspen. I was working on a roof, not getting anything done, constantly hitting the refresh button, hoping for anything positive, but fearing the eventual news we got. I remember going to the funeral in Pueblo with my wife, watching his brothers and sisters carrying pieces of his climbing gear. I remember seeing his parents and daughters from a distance and feeling such a sense of loss and crushing grief for them. I remember his brothers eulogizing him. I kept a copy of his brother Bill’s remarks. The following is a paraphrase of Steve’s rules for life shared with us that day:
1. Tutor and mentor others of all ages.
2. Consider education as a career option.
3. Consider adopting if wanting to start a family.
4. Support the foster care system.
5. Help others in need.
6. Work towards mending broken relationships
7. Get a dog, they will give more love than you give them.
8. Invite others to join in what you love to do.
9. Get and give a subscription to Guideposts magazine.
10. Show your family and friends you love them.
Without a doubt, what made these rules so meaningful was that he embodied them so completely. So, I am grateful I had the opportunity to cross paths with Steve. I am grateful for all wisdom he passed on through trip reports, forum posts, and personal conversations. I am grateful for all the people who view him as their mountain mentor. I am grateful that his parents encouraged him to pursue this activity so near to his heart that ultimately claimed his life. I am grateful that I carry his memory every time I go into the hills. I have known a lot of good people, but few I would consider great. Steve was one of those very few. He makes me want to be a better man.
Be kind, work hard, take care of yourself. Feet slip, rocks move, and snow slides. Dust to dust, ashes to ashes into the gracious keeping of our loving God we continue to trust the soul of our departed brother, praying that he may continue to live and climb in the presence of his Creator. We are grateful for what his life meant to his family, friends, and the climbing community.
So here in this place, surrounded by these glorious red mountains, we commit ourselves anew and afresh to living the same kind of life that Steve lived – a life of unselfish commitment to others, a life of joy in the hills in the company of others, and a life that is kind to all. And now may the God of peace who through the eternal covenant brought back from the dead the Lord Jesus Christ, may this God equip us with everything good for doing the will of the Heavenly Father. The grace of the Lord Jesus Christ, the love of God the Father and fellowship of the Holy Spirit, be with us all. Amen.
Intro to the thread three years ago:
A little over a week ago a group of 5 climbed Thunder Pyramid. We thought it appropriate to say a few words of remembrance of Steve while on the mountain upon which he perished. I volunteered and then was asked to put it into written form.
I never offered my words of tribute on the original memorial thread, because there were so many. After getting permission from his family, I thought it would be good to share those words of remembrance now after almost 7 years. For those of you who have joined his site since his death, know that he was an important part of shaping the 14ers.com community. He is worth remembering. We lost a giant 7 years ago.
Words of Tribute to Steve while on Thunder Pyramid:
I met Steve nearly 8 years ago at his parent’s house in Roeland Park, KS. At the time, my family lived in the Kansas City, MO area, making several Colorado trips each year to hike and ski. My oldest son was planning to attend Colorado State at Pueblo. From 14ers.com, I knew Steve was a teacher in Pueblo and was widely known as a mentor and Colorado mountain man extraordinaire. As a parent wanting to assist my son’s transition to a new place, I reached out to Steve in hopes that he might include him on an upcoming hike. I messaged him through the web site and almost instantly got a text back. Steve said he was originally from Kansas City and was in town visiting his parents. He invited us over that evening for ice cream.
His parents were sweet and welcoming, reminding me of my own Kansas parents. Steve had read my peak list and one trip report prior to our arrival. We talked endlessly about the mountains and I felt an instant connection, but he did not seem like the magnetic, giant personality I sensed from the forum. Truthfully, he seemed a little socially awkward that evening. He offered a car to my son to drive if he needed while in Pueblo. Who does that for an 18-year-old stranger going to college in a different state? It felt uncomfortably generous.
Several weeks later, Steve called with an invitation to join a group doing Longs via the Loft. It was the finisher peak for fepic1. Upon gathering at the campsite near the trailhead, Steve realized he had forgotten his pants. He found some old tights (I think they were his daughter’s) and borrowed another pair. After he put his cell phone down his pants—he said it was his “Cod piece"— he was good to go. He was no longer the socially awkward guy in Kansas, but the life of the party. I thought to myself that the mountains made him who he was.
Time flew by that day as Steve was one continuous story. The generosity that had surprised me at our first meeting was now extended to everyone on the mountain. He had carried 5 or 6 harnesses in his pack for people to rappel the north face cable route.
On the descent, as we waited at the Boulder field bathrooms, we could hear someone talking from far away. We listened carefully; it was Steve’s voice coming from probably ¼ mile away…with yet another story. Steve had gone into Kentucky Fried Chicken the night before and convinced the staff to sell him all the remaining chicken at a ridiculously cheap price. He hauled up the 2 or 3 buckets of chicken to the summit for everyone to share.
Steve’s stories were not just about his own adventures, but his friends and climbing companions. Not only did one get to know Steve quickly on a hike, but his friends as well. I know personal details about people on this forum that I have never met, for no other reason than Steve was an open book and cared about the people he was around. Everyone that hiked with Steve felt included. It was one of my favorite days I have ever spent in the mountains.
Steve told me a couple of quite personal things that day that would make more sense months later. He had been involved in an avalanche on the Bell Cord many years prior. Two of his partners died and Steve nearly perished. Following that accident, he said he did not cope very well, drinking too much. He was deemed responsible by some and struggled with a debilitating sense of guilt. Following the Long’s climb that evening he was going to offer support to a fellow 14ers.com member struggling with something similar. It was several months later that Steve posted on the forum his well-known, “When I die” post requesting that people stop “analyzing” the causes of each mountaineering accident. In those days on the forum, the “death” threads were some of the most ugly and contentious threads ever. His point was that they did far more damage than good. After his death, it stopped.
That day on Longs, Steve also told me about a letter his Dad wrote to him at a low point in his life. He did not say when it was exactly, but I suspected it was connected to the avalanche aftermath. At the time, Steve was considering moving back to Kansas City. He said his Dad wrote him and encouraged him not to give up on the mountain activities that were so close to his heart. It made a lasting impact and Steve stayed in Colorado. At the time of Steve’s death, there was a post from a family member—I think this was on the forum memorial thread—indicating that his parents were grateful that they had another 20 years with Steve following the first accident. What I find so meaningful about this is the largeness of a parent’s heart for their child that they would encourage them to continue in a significant activity following a near fatal accident only to have that same activity to take their life years later. Steve’s Dad obviously approached his son’s life with an open hand that looked to the fulfillment of his child’s life, fully aware of the risks involved. Sadly, I see the opposite with so many parents: fearfully holding on, refusing to allow the child to go down their own path, preventing them from being who they really are. Echoing the words of John Denver, upon Steve’s first visit to Colorado as a boy, he realized, “he came home to a place he’d never been before.” The largeness of the spirit of Steve originated with his dad’s blessing to continue in this home he’d never been before. The mountains made the man, I believe.
Tragically and indelibly, I also remember that day nearly 7 years ago when Britt pushed the button on the Spot indicating there was trouble in the red hills around Aspen. I was working on a roof, not getting anything done, constantly hitting the refresh button, hoping for anything positive, but fearing the eventual news we got. I remember going to the funeral in Pueblo with my wife, watching his brothers and sisters carrying pieces of his climbing gear. I remember seeing his parents and daughters from a distance and feeling such a sense of loss and crushing grief for them. I remember his brothers eulogizing him. I kept a copy of his brother Bill’s remarks. The following is a paraphrase of Steve’s rules for life shared with us that day:
1. Tutor and mentor others of all ages.
2. Consider education as a career option.
3. Consider adopting if wanting to start a family.
4. Support the foster care system.
5. Help others in need.
6. Work towards mending broken relationships
7. Get a dog, they will give more love than you give them.
8. Invite others to join in what you love to do.
9. Get and give a subscription to Guideposts magazine.
10. Show your family and friends you love them.
Without a doubt, what made these rules so meaningful was that he embodied them so completely. So, I am grateful I had the opportunity to cross paths with Steve. I am grateful for all wisdom he passed on through trip reports, forum posts, and personal conversations. I am grateful for all the people who view him as their mountain mentor. I am grateful that his parents encouraged him to pursue this activity so near to his heart that ultimately claimed his life. I am grateful that I carry his memory every time I go into the hills. I have known a lot of good people, but few I would consider great. Steve was one of those very few. He makes me want to be a better man.
Be kind, work hard, take care of yourself. Feet slip, rocks move, and snow slides. Dust to dust, ashes to ashes into the gracious keeping of our loving God we continue to trust the soul of our departed brother, praying that he may continue to live and climb in the presence of his Creator. We are grateful for what his life meant to his family, friends, and the climbing community.
So here in this place, surrounded by these glorious red mountains, we commit ourselves anew and afresh to living the same kind of life that Steve lived – a life of unselfish commitment to others, a life of joy in the hills in the company of others, and a life that is kind to all. And now may the God of peace who through the eternal covenant brought back from the dead the Lord Jesus Christ, may this God equip us with everything good for doing the will of the Heavenly Father. The grace of the Lord Jesus Christ, the love of God the Father and fellowship of the Holy Spirit, be with us all. Amen.
Re: Remembering Steve Gladbach
Brian,
Thank you so much for your incredible post. That was powerful. Well done sir. I've forgotten more people who I have climbed with than I can remember. Thanks for pointing out that you were on John's (fepic1) finisher on Longs Peak. That was a funny memory of Steve wearing Alise's tights to climb in. And yes, 5 minutes before Kentucky Fried Chicken closed in Estes Park, we went in an bought all the chicken they had left. It was like 35-40 pieces for like $5.00! We scored that night which made if fun to share chicken with people on the summit of Longs that next day.
Thanks again for your words and tribute to Steve.
~Britt
Thank you so much for your incredible post. That was powerful. Well done sir. I've forgotten more people who I have climbed with than I can remember. Thanks for pointing out that you were on John's (fepic1) finisher on Longs Peak. That was a funny memory of Steve wearing Alise's tights to climb in. And yes, 5 minutes before Kentucky Fried Chicken closed in Estes Park, we went in an bought all the chicken they had left. It was like 35-40 pieces for like $5.00! We scored that night which made if fun to share chicken with people on the summit of Longs that next day.
Thanks again for your words and tribute to Steve.
~Britt
Re: Remembering Steve Gladbach
Great post & video in memory of a great guy. Hard to believe it's been 10 years.
I had the pleasure of hiking with Steve a few times. Everything BKS said above rings true about Steve.
He was the only person that I've ever met that talked and told stories non-stop while ascending any mountain.
I was gasping for air and could only grunt in response!
He was quick to assist anyone in need. No prolonged thought or weighing the pros/cons. He took action.
An incredible example.
RIP Steve. We still miss you.
I had the pleasure of hiking with Steve a few times. Everything BKS said above rings true about Steve.
He was the only person that I've ever met that talked and told stories non-stop while ascending any mountain.
I was gasping for air and could only grunt in response!
He was quick to assist anyone in need. No prolonged thought or weighing the pros/cons. He took action.
An incredible example.
RIP Steve. We still miss you.
The older you get, the better you get, unless you're a banana.
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oldschool
- Posts: 877
- Joined: 2/27/2007
- 14ers: 58 6
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- Trip Reports (23)
Re: Remembering Steve Gladbach
I consider myself very fortunate to have climbed with Steve. He was one of the first people I met in the 14er world (along with Britt Jones) when I moved to Grand Junction in 2007. Steve was with me and Noah on the Capitol to Snowmass traverse as well as other outings.
Steve was everything and more of what has been said about him here in this post. An example for us all.
RIP Steve
Mike
Steve was everything and more of what has been said about him here in this post. An example for us all.
RIP Steve
Mike
"There's a feeling I get when I look to the West and my spirit is crying for leaving" Led Zeppelin
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Wentzl
- Posts: 1133
- Joined: 7/29/2008
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- Trip Reports (49)
Re: Remembering Steve Gladbach
I never knew him, but this has always been my favorite trip reports, inspired me to discover my favorite hike:
https://www.14ers.com/php14ers/tripreport.php?trip=5531
https://www.14ers.com/php14ers/tripreport.php?trip=5531
Shorter of Breath and One Day Closer . . .
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YZXKgl8turY
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uDT1tniPD2Q
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YZXKgl8turY
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uDT1tniPD2Q
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Wentzl
- Posts: 1133
- Joined: 7/29/2008
- 14ers: 58 22
- 13ers: 55
- Trip Reports (49)
Re: Remembering Steve Gladbach
For the ADHD crowd, here is the text that made me a fan:
I know we don't have crevasses in Colorado, but, I swear, I found one. Not a horizontal running fault in glacial ice, but, rather, a vertically running fault in the rock of the mountainside completely disguised by blending snow cover. This gap was designed by Archimedes himself to do its dastardly deed. I stepped on it in perfect position. My 34" snowshoes centered themselves across the 30" crack with my full weight at the center. Crack! The snowshoes simultaneously break through the snow, hit the rock edges of this crack and snap in two at the center, dropping me and two broken snowshoes at the bottom of a 15' hole. Honestly, I didn't panic. I was too stunned. This is absolutely impossible. I was flabbergasted! I could see the snow-covered fault running uphill above me and downhill below me, but, obviously, the only way out was the way I'd come in. Through that hole 15' above my head. For the record, I'll admit my environmental ethics deserted me. The four halves of those snowshoes can still be found at the bottom of that hole. Everything else was tied to a 20' piece of webbing; I easily stemmed out of the hole and pulled up my bag.
And no, I have not found the broken snowshoes, but if anyone else has. . . .
I know we don't have crevasses in Colorado, but, I swear, I found one. Not a horizontal running fault in glacial ice, but, rather, a vertically running fault in the rock of the mountainside completely disguised by blending snow cover. This gap was designed by Archimedes himself to do its dastardly deed. I stepped on it in perfect position. My 34" snowshoes centered themselves across the 30" crack with my full weight at the center. Crack! The snowshoes simultaneously break through the snow, hit the rock edges of this crack and snap in two at the center, dropping me and two broken snowshoes at the bottom of a 15' hole. Honestly, I didn't panic. I was too stunned. This is absolutely impossible. I was flabbergasted! I could see the snow-covered fault running uphill above me and downhill below me, but, obviously, the only way out was the way I'd come in. Through that hole 15' above my head. For the record, I'll admit my environmental ethics deserted me. The four halves of those snowshoes can still be found at the bottom of that hole. Everything else was tied to a 20' piece of webbing; I easily stemmed out of the hole and pulled up my bag.
And no, I have not found the broken snowshoes, but if anyone else has. . . .
Shorter of Breath and One Day Closer . . .
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YZXKgl8turY
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uDT1tniPD2Q
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YZXKgl8turY
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uDT1tniPD2Q
