Gil Parker
AROUND THE NEXT CORNER: Climber Dave Tansley—January 2000
We were climbing on skis and skins, the first day of our back-country week near the Lillooet Ice Cap. Dave was headed across the plateau, peering in vain up into the cloud cover. Most of our party was above him, angling for Dolphin Peak. Our calls to Dave he ignored, until finally we heard his plaintive answer, "I just want to see what's around this corner." The incident, recalled by fellow mountaineer Murrough O'Brien, grasps the essence of Dave Tansley.
In November 18, 1999, Victoria climber, David John Tansley died of a heart arrhythmia. He was only 55.
Dave was a structural engineer who emigrated from Britain in 1969, working for Sir William Halcrow in Vancouver. Four years later he joined Willis, Cunliffe Tait & Co. (now Delcan) and we worked together there for 5 years. He was well known in the design and construction industry in Victoria. At the time of his death, he was a partner in the consulting firm, Graeme & Murray, where he had worked as a structural engineer since 1986.
Dave was a member of the YM/YWCA and ran or swam daily at noon. A regular entrant in the early Basil Parker "hill-and-dale" cross country races, he graduated to the Sri Chinmoy triathlon where his swimming ability was an advantage. His long reach and powerful arm strength also served us well in the mountains as he led steep rock pitches on Mount Slesse near Chilliwack. On Mount Colonel Foster in Strathcona Park, we climbed the long snow and rock route to the south summit. We had started late; this was the beginning of Dave's reputation for epic trips and late returns. Arriving back at our camp on the gravel flats about 7 PM, we walked through a dark night out the Elk River Valley to the car. Four hours on the Island Highway brought us to Victoria at 4 AM, but we showed up, on time, in the office next morning. Not much work was done that Monday.
With Paul Erickson, we climbed Mount Garibaldi near Squamish in a long 20 hour push from Victoria. It was a surreal scene on the summit at 9:30 PM with red skies over the Island and Mount Tantalus snagging clouds. Then, down the glacier in a blizzard, across endless snowfields through the pitch black of an eclipse of the moon to our tent, finally, at 1 AM. It was an experience to ruin, or to solidify, any friendship!
In the Mount Waddington region with Rick Eppler and Charles Rowley, we climbed three peaks off the Tellot Glacier. But Dave tried, unsuccessfully, to convince us also to climb Claw Peak and Tellot Spire, with their exposed granite slabs that intimidated the rest of us.
Every year, Dave planned a week-long ski trip deep into the wilderness: the Pemberton Ice Cap, the Spearhead Traverse behind Blackcomb and the Manatee Range near the Lillooet Ice Cap, where he had "just wanted to see around the next corner." Unfortunately, low cloud ceilings prevented the helicopter from flying our party onto the Ice Cap, and thus, from attempting the full traverse that Dave really wanted.
While he was focused on reaching the climbing objective at hand, Dave was, nevertheless, a safe and reliable climber. John Pratt tells of them exploring Mount Robie Reid and the complex and difficult route to Mount Judge Howay. Dave and John later climbed Judge Howay on a challenging line with the brilliant Victoria climber, Kris Holm. "Dave had all those qualities you'd want in a mountaineer," remembers John, "tough, a great 'goer', imperturbable, safe and cautious." Often painfully shy in an urban setting, Dave was open and voluble in the hills.
Dave was not just a "peak bagger." With his daughters, Rowena and Caroline, he led a trek from the Island's outer coast up the Bedwell Valley to Buttle Lake. This trip and others that he made with "the girls" were the stories he told to me while we walked Sunday mornings in the Sooke Hills. Often, we would hike up Mount Work, then sit overlooking Fork Lake. He could relax for an hour watching the ravens play in the updraft off the south-facing cliff. Just last fall we sat, munched apples and delighted in their acrobatic flying.
"Above the cliff I face the wind
blowing in storms over marching ranges.
Again, ravens play the updraft, rising
then folding black wings to
dive, dive
round out, and rise again, but soundless,
silently storing the summer's fun.
I want to shout,
To bound along ridges with them.
But, I too am silent,
storing all the joy
against the coming winter."
from "Black-Winged Seasons" Gil Parker
