We’ve written before about Chris Street, our beautiful bird nerd friend who died from cancer on November 12, 2009, shattering our hearts.
C. Street, as most called him, loved mountains without discrimination, but I had the privilege of getting to know him in Glacier’s peaks, and as such he’s become a part of that core group of people missing from my life that keep me headed into Glacier’s wildest places, again, and again. My own beloved brother, Howard, with whom I first witnessed the cerulean perfection of Iceberg Lake; Steve Lee, my co-worker at St. Mary Lodge who first whispered a few of Many Glacier’s off trail secrets into my open ears; and C. Street, Layla Jane’s boyfriend with whom I spent one of the most delightful August days of my life, exploring Floral Park and Sperry Glacier. I cannot think of the otherworldly views from Floral Park, nor the turkey and dressing from Sperry Chalet, without thinking of Chris. Nor can I gaze knowingly at the tip top of Going-to-the-Sun Mountain without remembering his infamous summit on my wedding day, a summit he made with such power that he was seated in the audience as I made my way down the aisle at 5:00 sharp.
Today, Chris would be 31.
I think I’ll spend at least part of the afternoon with my weathered topo and a notebook, scratching out a few routes to try for Chris, this summer. Until then, I’ll see him in every majestic raptor that Maggie Rose points to and I cannot name, and I’ll hear his innate kindness reflected back in Layla’s patient voice, over a glass of wine, and I’ll know that it’s not much, but we’ll never stop remembering C. Street.
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