All of us who have climbed for any length of time have lost friends to the heights. It simply comes with the territory. If you climb and you find this statement shocking, you have your innocent little head buried deep in the sand (Lara would have used a different, less polite metaphor).
Losing someone is never easy, but some deaths are a whole lot harder than others. Some losses are so demoralizing that they make you question the whole damn business. You find yourself wondering whether climbing’s myriad and incomparable rewards are really worth it.
Losing Lara-Karena is like that for me. Which I’m having trouble making sense of, because I moved away from Seattle quite a while ago and it’s been a few years now since I’ve seen her or talked to her. Heck, we were never even very close friends. But we shared some memorable, kick-ass days together in the North Cascades, Eldorado Canyon, and the Khumbu. She left an indelible impression on me, out of all proportion to the time I spent in her company.
Lara was way special—as anyone who ever met her doesn’t need to be told. She was smart and reliable and beautiful and tough and funny and incredibly talented in so many ways. She was kind and generous not only to sorry-ass dogs, but to sorry-ass humans as well. When she needed to borrow a car from a total stranger, she didn't bother to ask: she'd just feel around under the bumper until she found where their hide-a-key was stashed. But it was OK, because she always returned the car before they ever knew it had been loaned. Yeah, Lara-Karena was one bold, bad woman. And she had more style than any ex-juvenile-delinquent I ever met.
Writing these words, I'm realizing how impossible it is to capture Lara's essence in print. She possessed intangible qualities that were utterly unique. It was something about her energy, the unmistakable joy she took in being alive. She burned with such a brilliant flame. She was like the best fireworks show you ever saw, one amazing flaring burst of color after another, constantly making you say “Whoa! Did you see that?!” She made you shake your head and smile and mumble under your breath, “Amazing!” She lit up the sky—she lit up the world—over and over again, without end.
Only now it’s ended.
Tashi delek, Lara-Karena. You sure as sh-t won't be forgotten.
Jon
Lara Kellogg
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- The breadth of her relationship to us is far reaching, her friendships deep and long lasting. Ever in motion, she lived three lives every day, her broad smile and infectious laughter gracing each moment. She was a natural storyteller, in delivery and in experience, for they were her stories, unembellished. To summarize her would be a travesty of embarrassing proportions; even for those of us who were characters in her stories, our remembrance is but a moment of her rich life. If you live only one life each day, these stories will be a window into an existence extraordinary. Yes, if you were close, if you were acquainted, and even if you never had the opportunity, these stories will help all of us in the years to come, our years without Lara.