John Evans in the Black Hills of South Dakota, 1966
Our sweet John Evans has passed on, leaving us with a lifetime of incredible memories and one-of-a-kind stories. His passing is causing us to reflect on his life and the impact he’s made on so many of us.
Even with his tremendous adventures and accomplishments, his greatest impact was his kind spirit and how he made everyone feel so loved. He taught us that anything can be turned into a joyful adventure and that everything, no matter what, was going to be ok.
Yes, we will miss him, but what an opportunity we have to learn from his life and example, and take that with us. If you have a memory or story you would like to share, there’s a space for that below. Much love to all who touched John’s life and who were touched by his.
I will miss John much and I’m just so very grateful that I got to be with him on some river trips, skiing into the yurts, etc. John always brought me a big smile and he had a way of making us all want to join in the fun he was creating. I always loved hearing his storied and I will always love John.
John was one-of-a-kind. It was our privilege to call him friend. I thank him and Loie for the adventuresome spirit they shared and passed on. While John’s passing creates a big whole in our world, his presence filled us with wonderful memories. We too will always love John.
John shared such a wonderful and kind spirit with everyone he knew. Always bringing a smile to everyone around him. We were so lucky to know him as a part of our “Parent Support Group” (from Evergreen High School days) with Lynn and our son, Matt as well as several other local families. It was a wonderful group where we all shared our love, our challenges and our joys of parenting our children. Our love goes to Loie and Lynn. John’s friendship was meaningful to us all. With much love, Laura & Buzz Sampson
I’ll never forget John’s warmth. As a young, green guide on the Green with Loie and Bill Belknap, I was fortunate enough to be on two trips with John. Even though as an outdoorsman I could barely find my hindquarters with both hands, John never judged me – never made me feel like a yahoo, although in comparison to John, I certainly was. Loved hearing his stories of Everest, August river trips in Alaska, and just a little jealous of his fingertip pull-ups. But it was the warmth of his character that endures for me. What a model of a man for all to aspire to!
John was one of the greatest people to climb with and work with. We will miss him very much. I feel so grateful to have known him.
John hired me to work for COBS. It was a life changer for me in a very positive way. Legend of a man.
John Evans was one of the most humble, caring, and generous people I’ve ever known. Always quick to lend a hand or teach someone a skill. One of my fondest memories was a day hike with John to the top of Mt. Evans, (my first fourteener). At the time I didn’t fully comprehend just how accomplished a climber he was. He never let on, and made me feel an equal, and we had a wonderful day. Thanks John, you will be missed.
I had the honor of working with John for 12 years, and the memories he shared of climbing, to leading scientists to the remotest of Antarctic locations, to wrestling alligators are all etched forever in my mind, and I am thankful for the time with him…I also remember seeing him do inverted handstand push ups into his 60’s – he was truly amazing and one-in-a-million. He is missed.
Although we had few times to be with him, he was always family to us, and our times were always special. When ever I think of John I think of the time we went on a short hike, but he made feel like we were super hikers. On one huge scary slanted, solid rock we had to go down, I was behind him and he put out his hand to me and firmly kept me from sliding off the boulder. Another time we were together with our families around a campfire on a Lake Mede beach. I will never forget playing a game of remembering nursery rhymes with the children, and it amazed me that he knew so many rhymes. It was a special and memorable time. He has moved forward along his steadfast course and only to mortal sense is no longer with us. He goes right on upward on the pathway of Love. His reward is with him and his work before him.
Hee hee, I remember playing the nursery rhyme game too! Lots of good times with all the Belknaps’s, Evans’ and Esgar’s! !
I worked with John in the Antarctic program. He was such a wonderful, kind, and loving spirit. So sorry to hear of his passing.
one of those rare privileges to have had the opportunity to work with John. And extra special to have worked with him in the Antarctic. Such a fine gentleman. RIP
I have such beautiful memories of hanging out with John and Loie in their little cabin when we also had a little cabin in Evergreen. Our daughter, Manya, spent so many happy hours with their Lynny and Barry and romping with John. Such a great dad and wonderful friend. John lit up a room with his smile and loving attitude. We loved him very, very much. The world has lost one of it’s great and unique treasures. I am sure his light is burning brightly in another sphere and I am hoping to catch up with him again someday. Knowing him, he will be off on another grand adventure that we cannot even imagine. I will never forget him.
I feel blessed to have known John. He was such a remarkably kind man to everyone he met. Thoughts, love, and prayers to you, Loie, and the entire Evans family. (Friend and co-workerAntartic program)
I worked with John in the Antarctic Program, and he was a really kind, unassuming gentleman who would occasionally surprise you with his amazing tales of adventure! I feel very lucky to have known him, however briefly. Very deepest condolences to his family.
I met John only a few years ago. However, it didn’t take long to realize what a great man he was. Thank you for the way you brightened our lives.
Oh Loie, my heart aches for you. As you look back over your memories, cement them to your mind (and write them in a book) because you and your family knew the old days. Val & I love you.
Oh Loie, my heart aches for you. As you look back over your memories, cement them to your mind (and write them in a book) because you and your family knew the old days. Val & I love you.
I recognize that big juniper tree with you all around it… and John and you look so elegant in tux and black skirt.
Good grief. . . An amazing life; well lived, and now well missed by our grateful river, mountain and wildland communities. Our love & condolences to Loie & family ~ ~ ~ ^ ^ ^ * * *
There’s a special place in my heart for John. I have a pretty short list of people who I truly feel honored and blessed to know in my life. John is on that brief list. He showed so much patience, love and kindness to everyone. In his presence, I always felt his warmth and in my heart we are like family. And of course, always loved listening to his amazing stories. I will miss him greatly. Two thoughts that console me… that he and Barry are close together now and knowing that we can really never be separated from all the wonderful qualities he expressed. So grateful we were able to get together just a few months ago.
My love to all of you. Wish I could be there for hugs. Hopefully soon. ❤️
John Evans… legendary mountaineer, adventurer, leader extraordinaire has shed this mortal coil, leaving his persistent, irrepressible spirit with us though no longer amongst us.
No expression of gratitude can repay the example you were to all of us with whom you came in contact for your generosity, warmth, kindness, unswerving loyalty and commitment to the belief in the best in everyone. We’ll miss and never forget you, your humility and curiosity, dogged tenacity and enchantment leading to the next summit, canyon,river or unexplored wild place.
no one could ask for more in a friend.
In 1971, fresh off an Colorado Outward Bound course, I attended a father-son banquet where John, the new program director, did a slideshow of the International Everest expedition. The man seemed larger than life and was so inspiring that I left knowing that I wanted to lead his kind of life. I was lucky enough to be hired by John as an assistant instructor four years later. It was a dream come true.
So grateful for having known John!
It was truly a pleasure to know and spend time with John. His stories were wonderful and reading his climbing journals was really inspiring. I first knew about John by reading “Storm and Sorrow in the High Pamirs”. He was the hero of that adventure. He was a valued friend. Our world has lost an extraordinary human being.
Love to Loie, Lynn and grand daughters, Zoe and Spenser
As an adult, I met John only once. It was at a GTS land session in Marble Canyon, AZ a few years back. I was struck by his kindness and calm demeanor. I’m interested in reading more about his life and the adventures and expeditions he took part in. He will be missed by all who knew him I’m sure.
I knew John as my older cousin. There was enough of an age difference so he could have ignored me. But he didn’t. One of my fondest memories was being at John’s house for our grandmother’s 90 birthday. He and all of my older cousins included me in all of the activities. I have always admired John and his three brothers. I’m sad that he has passed. But what a life, filled with accomplishments. He has had an impact on many people… including this young cousin so many years ago.
My favorite memory of climbing with John happened purely by chance. I was working as a seasonal climbing ranger at Longs Peak in Rocky Mountain National Park and had spent the night in the ranger cabin (since destroyed by an avalanche) at Chasm Lake. Soon after sunrise I closed the door to head out when who did I see just few feet in front of me but John.
We walked and spoke for a bit and decided it would be fun to do a tandem solo of Keiners on the east face. Sunny, warm, little wind: It could have not been better. While I do not remember the details my lasting impression is one of great friendship, shared passion and a love of life.
We should all be so fortunate as to have our loved ones post HALF the images that have been posted of John’s adventures. Clearly a life well lived, and an indelible mark on those lucky enough to have made the memories with him. Thanks for sharing these!
John was larger than life to me in the early 70s as I struggled to learn to climb. His deep strength of character and gentle spirit drew so many of us to him during that time at Colorado Outward Bound. As my sponsor to the AAC, he helped fulfill a youthful dream of membership. I’ll always remember his effort to ban dogs from COBS courses – which of course was tempered by his compassion – “No dogs – except under special circumstances.” he said in the early 70s. When I arrived at Marble that late May with Wolf The Wonder Dog, John grinned and said, “He must be special.” It was wonderful to reunite with John as a group of the old guard helped COBS re-acquire the Marble basecamp. He will live in my memory.
John was a beloved legend at the Reptile Gardens family. He was one of the first alligator wrestlers and was an amazing reptile handler. He could also bake an apple pie! Marshall Young remembered him play football at the SD School of Mines. He had never played before and became a starting fullback. We all have so many wonderful stories of hiking with John. But as so many have said before, it was his kind and humble spirit, his ability to accept everyone without judgment and his amazing physical and intellectual talents that combined to make him a truly amazing human being. We all love him and are better for having known him.
John was a close friend of my parents and was a fixture on family river trips from my childhood. I have so many memories of John from those trips. Many mornings, we would wake up to the distant sound of yodeling, the source of which would be revealed after spotting John (often requiring the use of binoculars) perched atop some ledge far above the river. John’s love for wildlife, especially of the venomous variety, was a constant source of entertainment. The ultimate prize of a scavenger hunt organized on the Middle Fork of the Salmon was a rattlesnake that John had captured and placed in a bag (which he harmlessly released the next morning). Another time on Desolation Canyon, we found a black widow in a pile of driftwood. John surprised all of us by cradling it in his palm so we could take a closer look. One of my favorite memories was when my sisters and I took a WFR class with John in Leavenworth. At one point in the course, John was driving us along a mountain road, when he spotted a snake slithering away from us. He was so intent on catching the snake that he dove out from the driver’s seat without stopping the car. While we scrambled to grab the wheel and hit the brakes, John came running back, with the snake in hand and a huge grin on his face. With regards to the car, he told us, “I never doubted you for an instant!”.
We will dearly miss John’s generous, kind, and adventurous spirit, and we are so grateful for the memories we’ve shared.
After reading all of the wonderful memories and comments about John, it got me to thinking most of last night. After “the explorers” came a Golden Age of people who embraced the outdoors: climbing, mountaineering, river running, hiking and such. People were self-taught, they progressed forward with little information and “primitive” equipment. But they learned and shared, and they progressed in their skills. John was a huge part of that Golden Age. As I look back and see the “Golden Agers of The Outdoors” I see many of them passing on to climb the peaks and to row the skyways of our Galaxy and beyond. The new generation of outdoors people would do well to study and absorb the special traits of people like John.
My fondest memories were being able to visit with John during the special paddle boarding mornings that Loie arranged on Evergreen Lake. He would come and help set up the breakfast table and then join all the ladies on the lake to paddle board. Kind spirit is such a great description of how he made you feel when you were around him. He had such adventures and a fully lived life.
Like so many of us, I met John the realm he loved the most; wild outdoor spaces. At both Outward Bound and on the AMREE Everest expedition I was blown away by John’s competence and compassion. His kind and self effacing manner often disguised his profound proficiency in any outdoor environment.
I recall with humor and fondness a day spent with John in the mountains where he displayed his essential goodness in a single, wonderful moment.
In the winter of 1974 John ,along with Billy Roos, Paul Sibley, Larry Derby and myself headed to Vail to attempt a first ascent of the Rigid Designator. In the end, it would turn out that Bob Culp had made the first ascent only two days before we arrived. As always, John was the perfect partner in the mountains; enthusiastic and delighted to be outdoors with friends.
As we prepared for the climb there was the usual, colorful back and forth common to the members of a climbing tribe which was at that time small, iconoclastic and still a ragged subculture.
As Paul began the first pitch as was just a few feet off the ground I noticed he had forgotten to clip in a second trailing rope lying at the base of the climb. I reminded him of it with a ” Hey man, don’t forget to grab that second line”. His response, which was consistent with the banter in general, was ” Grab it yourself ya dick “.
John, interpreting Pauls reply as more serious than it actually was, was momentarily flustered and as was his style, tried to calm what he saw as troubled waters and make the situation better for those around him. He nervously leapt up and hurried to get the rope to Paul and as he passed by me said, ” Don’t worry, I’ll get it Dick”. We all had a good laugh in what was a wonderful day in the hills.
Johns essential goodness and big heart taught me to try and be less of a dick/Dick and I am forever grateful for his example.
Climb on John.
Dan, I loved this story. I had recently sent you an email asking for a story or two as I have agreed to “speak on behalf of his OB years” – but the email was returned. So happy to know you are well. We have lost a gem for sure! Marlene Manown (formerly Simonson to you)
Hi MIke, I don’t know how this email I sent to Dan Manning got hooked up to your comment above? But I also thoroughly enjoyed this story you’ve detailed. :o) Your email on the COBS site is not accurate anymore. If you care to have it corrected, send it to me at the email below. Marlene (Simonson) Manown
Too funny, Mike. John was too much of a gentleman to let petty insults compromise the Bonhomie of a great climbing adventure. John had an expectation of the best in everyone and always seemed perplexed when it wasn’t fulfilled; and,,when it comes to Sib, well, you just get what you get, unfiltered, compromised Paul. Great story with those who’ve departed us too early.
Dear Loie, Lynn, Mark, Zoe and Spencer,
How honored I feel to have known both John and Barry. Two remarkable people who have touched so many lives in so many ways. The EVAN’S family will be forever loved by me! What a blessing ALL of you have been to our mountain area community.
Love, Sally Brant
Thank you for sharing John’s website and life with us. And, for the wonderful obituary in the Canyon Courier. It’s such a tribute to John as a man, husband, father and grandfather.
John was a classmate with my father at South Dakota School of Mines. As a kindergartener, I first met John when he visited our home in Houston for dinner. From that first moment for reasons I couldn’t explain at the time, John was instantly my hero. A few months later, there was John in the National Geographic magazine for exploring the Vinson range in Antarctica and telling the story of their first summit of Mt Vinson, the highest point on the continent – wow! Fast forward a few years when John and his new wife, Loie, gave me my first climbing lesson at Enchanted Rock in Texas. I still have a picture of me wearing Loie’s jacket as I rappelled of the rock. At age 10, I had the honor of “snake sitting” John’s pet King Snake, Louis, while he was on the 1971 Everest International expedition. In the midst of his climb, I received a postcard with a photo of the familiar Everest summit pyramid. On the back of the post card were autographs of all the world-famous mountaineers who were on that trip. The autographed post cards were sold for $200 in order to raise funds for the climb. That post card is framed in double sided glass and sits right next to my bedside to this day. A few years later, there’s John in the National Geographic again, this time with Loie and her family exploring the Grand Canyon in Sport Yaks. During a transitional time for our family, we were moving to Colorado when John and Loie would be gone from their home in Colorado. John was climbing Nanda Devi during that time and our family was able to stay at their home to keep the home fires burning. As a budding teenager, I was having thoughts of mountaineering and tried to learn from John how he prepared for climbs. Their backyard went uphill, and up and up… John would put 100 pounds of concrete in his backpack and run up the hill. Gee whiz, I could only manage a fast walk without a pack. Obviously, he was a hero with super-human qualities!
Finally, in 1990 I was able to retrace John’s footsteps in Antarctica up to the summit of Mt Vinson. In December of 1990, 24 years after John had first summitted, I was the 100th person to summit. John was with me every step of the way, as he has been on all of my climbs. After my own lifetime of exploring and enjoying the mountains, I have finally figured out why my kindergarten brain took such a shine to John. It’s John’s eternal, upbeat optimism that distinguishes him. I’ve met other really upbeat, fun and terrific people, including Loie, but John was the first for me. John’s legacy for me is to be the most upbeat and positive person I can be. Of course, it would be nice to run uphill with concrete, but that was John’s victory and heroes deserve to win!
This tribute encapsulates everything we loved about John, and you wrote it more eloquently that most of us ever could. I am envious that you had a life-long friendship with John. I worked with John and only knew him for the past 20 years, but WOW! every single emotion you express says how we all felt about him.
I very much enjoyed working with John in the USAP, and the educational approach he brought a few days before our group climbs which included advance homework with readings that he provided. He was attentive to detail in his work and leading others, and a thoughtful friend who was always up for an adventure beyond hiking such as good local food and coffee, from Evergreen to Punta Arenas. He was a positive influence and always there to offer help and support. My best to his home and extended family.
I was incredibly saddened to learn that John has passed away. I first met John in the late 1970’s when I was a young, wide eyed instructor for Colorado Outward Bound. John was already a legend. I was awed by how unassuming John was and how supportive he was of the staff. John always made me feel like I could accomplish anything I wanted to. That was one of John’s many gifts- to make you feel special. My favorite memory of John is him showing up unannounced on a course visit – however, there was no surprise, I knew he was coming because I could hear the yodeling coming from far away.
Just looking at these pictures of John, his great smile and sparkly blue eyes, puts a smile on my face and a happiness in my heart, still, after many years. What wonderful gifts he shared with everyone along his path. He is not totally gone from us. His spirit lives on in all of us who knew him, and will continue to do so..
John was one hell of a nice guy who was always willing to help you out or give you advice if you needed it. Despite his amazing accomplishments, he was as humble as they come, and he always made time for you, no matter who you were. He will be sorely missed.
How lucky this world was to have a character like John in the mix! I remember how happy he always seemed just to be alive (and why shouldn’t he be, with such a fantastical family). His vibrancy was always in full force, whether yodeling to Chomo about CCCs or making sure we got properly soaked playing in the creek. I’m sorry I never got to hear his Antarctica tales, but I was so thrilled to hear about it when he escaped the bank to enjoy the wilds. I am so sorry for all of this sadness. Lynn and Loie, I love you so much. Sending so much light and joy your way.
Dear Loie,
I am so sad to hear about John. We had such a good time together climbing exploring the mountains. I lost touch with him for a few years, and didn’t know that he was sick. He was such a wonderful companion, and so strong that I told him that I counted on him to carry me out if we got into trouble. His reply was, “Don’t count on it!” I am recalling the climbs we did together in the Park, on Torrey’s Peak, and near Loveland Pass, plus cross country skiing, soccer games and baseball. He was a man’s man, a compassionate person, and a natural leader. I am spending the winter in Baja Sur, so won’t be able to come to a memorial. I hope you are well.
Denny Eberl
A lovely tribute in Rock and Ice magazine
https://rockandice.com/climbing-news/tribute-to-john-evans-mountaineer-climber-mentor-and-friend/
It has taken me some time to come to grips with John’s death. Among my mountaineering friends, Barry Corbet and John were the ones I looked up to throughout life. I met Barry in college. I was not fortunate enough to meet John until we began planning the Antarctic expedition. John was a gentle and gentlemanly giant. Always kind and considerate, exuding feelings of “goodness” and confidence that calmed the nerves and strengthend one’s resolve.
I will never forget the day we ascended Mt. Ostenso, the last peak we climbed in Antarctica. John and Dick Wahlstrom reached the small plateau below the peak’s whip cream decorated pinnacled summit a few minutes before Charley and me. They waited until we arrived. “You guys go first,” John offered. “You dreamed up this adventure.” “Thanks,” I said, “but this summit is so spectacular, I want to photograph its ascent. I don’t want to take the chance that some wayward footsteps by Charley and me will spoil subsequent photographs.” Eventually, John and Dick capitulated and went first, and I documented their ascent with two rolls of film. I knew it would provide memorable photographs, and it did. The National Geographic devoted a full page to it, and the Mountain World placed it on the book’s cover.
By the time Charley and I had summited and descended back to the plateau, John and Dick had constructed a nylon tarp shelter, under whose protection we sat for several hours, consuming all our food and water, watching the sun circle around to the south, laughing giddily and enjoying one another’s company. We knew this was the last peak we would climb on the expedition. We thought it unlikely we’d ever have an opportunity to return to these mountains. So, warmed by the euphoria of the expedition’s success, we stayed on the plateau until 3 or 4 a.m. The pleasure of that ascent with John remains prominent in my consciousness to this day. I doubt it will ever fade from memory.
John was a real leader. I am forever grateful to have had the privilege of knowing him and being guided by him.
Sam Silverstein
John was an amazing man. I felt fortunate to spend time with him and get to know him in the small ways I did. Most of that time was spent in Chile prepping field camps bound for Antarctica. John could have you laughing one minute and crying the next as he was able to earnestly and easily emote his empathy in a staggering manner. When he spoke, he spoke as a friend. When you listened, it demanded reverence. John was easily kind because he could afford to be. I feel awful he’s gone. I valued life a little bit more knowing a man like that still existed: John – Thank You for your kindnesses, your advice, and in general for bothering to speak freely within earshot. I hope I’m able to take those lessons learned and share them as you’ve shared them.
Truly. Thank you.
John Evans.
Our life paths crossed frequently in unexpected places across the surface of this globe. Most often, they were your tracks I crossed.
For a’that, our time-space coordinates never synced until our convergence in the US Antarctic Program. Your work on developing the USAP’s long-haul traverse capabilities “wrecked on the shoals of intractable funding” (your BRILLIANT words) in the 1990s. But, the written, technical legacy you bequeathed lived on. Where you left off, your successors read your clear tracks and forged onward from those.
That particular Lazarus rose again in the 2000s (the “naughties”?). It was called the “South Pole Traverse Proof-of-Concept” project. Your successors completed the job. USAP cargo delivery to the South Pole has not been the same since, the US taxpayer pays millions less for that, and remote polar field science has flourished.
Hat’s off to you, John Evans.
John Wright
I was sorry to hear from friend and colleague Jed Williamson that John had died. I only knew John personally for a brief time. But that experience left a very positive mark on me. He was my geology lab instructor for a geology class at U. of Minnesota, during my undergrad time there. I remember going into the high-ceilinged, cubicle-partitioned room in Pillsbury Hall where a bunch of the geology T.A.s hung out. It was like going into a monkey gym. Guys climbing all over the place–on partitions and walls and window casings. John certainly made me consider geology as a possible major. He was a fun and caring and a bit of an intimidating lab teacher.. He was so proficient. But then I was just a budding undergrad and he a seasoned doctoral student. What did I know? But his presence in my life is a tribute to the effect a teacher can have on a student. And I thank him for that. My best wishes to his family.
In 1965 as a “star struck” teenager, I read about John Evans after John & crew climbed the incredible “hummingbird ridge” on Mt. Logan. In 1966 his conquest of Mt. Vinson in Antarctica was the ultimate inspiration. I was fortunate to meet the hero and climb with John in 1974 on the 1974 Pamir expedition. In 1981, John was an outstanding leader on the Medical Expedition to Mt. Everest, and a key reason for the success.
John Evans was an inspiration to all who met him. My first impression of John Evans remains to this day; John “was a man larger than his mountains.” A leader, a gentleman, a poet, a coach, and always kind. I looked up to John Evans in 1965, and I look up to him now. .
I first met John on a rainy day in June, 1967 on an Colorado Outward Bound School (COBS) reconnaissance of an unknown route we were planning for COBS students in a few days. Three instructors including John, Steve Miller and me were suppose to see if this essentially un-mapped area would work for the upcoming course. John got out of his 1960 VW bug, greeted us and pulled on his boots. He was completely covered by a loose-fitting green rain jacket that hung down to his knees, covering everything but a pair of thick calves. His blond hair was worn in a very short crew cut. He looked at us through blue, smiling eyes and said, typical of John, “I’m sure glad you guys have some experience in these mountains. I’ve never been to Colorado before and I don’t know what to expect. I just drove in from the mid-west.” He gestured toward his old VW. It was hard to tell through his rain jacket but John looked capable and sturdy enough. Even though he did appear a little “heavy set” he moved with a coordination that reminded me of a big cat. Because he’d just come up from the mid west near sea level he’d probably be suffering from the thin air at the 10,000 – 13,000 elevations of our proposed reconnaissance. We’d soon be backpacking up 2,000 vertical feet through rough country with no trail and there was no point in making things difficult for John. I thought I should probably go first and set a slow, steady pace. There was no point in getting my ego involved in any high-speed ascent. I had just finished nearly two weeks of strenuous mountain activities with very fit Outward Bound instructors and no longer needed to “prove myself.” John, however, had just arrived here in the mountains.
We walked uphill through rough terrain with our fairly heavy packs for more than two hours, reaching the tundra above timberline at more than 12,500 feet. I led and listened carefully to John and Steve who were following behind me, intending to stop or slow down if John was having any problem with the altitude. But he didn’t seem to be having any problem, occasionally responding politely to Steve’s endless chatter. He seemed to be doing quite well for a recently-arrived and possibly slightly overweight “mid-westerner.” I was relieved – I guessed I wouldn’t have to worry about him! Steve was much more closely connected to the mountaineering world than I was and knew something about John’s recent mountain experiences. Steve quizzed John incessantly at camp that night. Apparently John had just returned in January or February from a big, successful expedition to Antarctica where he had been with a government-sponsored group that did first ascents of all the major peaks in the continent’s highest mountains the Sentinel Range. I was traveling with a very experienced mountaineer!
John’s astonishing physical capacity and feats of strength and endurance became obvious as the summer wore on. But, I feel his most enduring legacy is that he was a good, kind person, a good listener and someone who was always sensitive to other people’s needs.
John, you have left a lasting positive impression on me.
John was so many things to so many people. To me, he was a grandpa, a mentor, and someone to look up to. My sister Zoe and I know him as “Johnpa”. I remember hearing many stories on how to catch almost anything. For example: to catch a rattlesnake, you must pick it up then hold it right behind the “ears”. That way, it can’t swing its head around to bite you.
I already miss him with all my heart, and am so grateful to have been impacted so greatly by him in my life. I am also so grateful for amazing friends and their support.
John’s spirit was as bright as those blue eyes! He brought a sense of confidence, enthusiasm and possibility to everything he did. He was a friend to all… I’ll never forget him.
John could have given me the boot from COBS in ‘73 when as a young instructor i had a misunderstanding shall we say with a senior course director. John’s sense of justice and innate decency saved my bacon. the next 5 years with COBS changed the course of my life. he was perhaps the most simply good man i’ve ever met. i shall miss him
John was to so many of us, a hugely influential mentor, not just in regard to mountaineering but also towards a life structured around a strong moral center and importantly tempered by humor and humility. Doubt that I will ever get there but surely John set a standard for us all. The list of positive adjectives that describe him and his life is a very long one indeed.
A John story: it was either the 2nd or 3rd summer of my 25 COBS courses over 5 years, the end of a 21-day co-ed course in the San Juans, and during the final pig roast the day before the students left Redcloud. I don’t think that John was the course director but had instead joined some of the patrols in the field during a visit from the Denver office. Regardless, throughout the afternoon one of the students, a bit of a jock, was constantly pestering John to a pushup contest. Finally, John had had enough. He went into a handstand and snapped off 10 crisp pushups, the last one with enough force to land him back on his feet. ‘You mean those?’ As the student wordlessly retreated and John dusted off his hands, he dryly commented that is was either 10 of those or 100 of the normal ones and he allowed as how he had gotten off rather easy.
When someone as large as John leaves us, it creates a large hole. Luckily nature abhors vacuums and this gap will be partially filled during his memorial where all will celebrate his life, reaffirming those very qualities with which John led his life. I wish I could be there to be part of that but will have to extend my warmest wishes to all instead.
Still outward bound . . .
Dan
Cangas de Onís, Asturias, Spain
Dan, I loved this story. I had recently sent you an email asking for a story or two as I have agreed to “speak on behalf of his OB years” – but the email was returned. So happy to know you are well. We have lost a gem for sure! Marlene Manown (formerly Simonson to you)
Marlene,
Please feel free to represent me along with long list of others as part of COBS. John and I had only recently reconnected via note from Chuck Tolton and I had aspirations / expectations to John in person once again at some point in near future.
As another aside, I went to junior high school in the building that is now the American Mountaineering Museum. Will have to visit . . .
D
For purposes of these public remembrances, it’s necessary for me to set aside my (self-centered) heart-breaking sadness at the passing of “brother” John. And for brevity’s sake, I won’t list all of John’s positive attributes of character, expressed by everyone herein. What I do want to emphasize is that all of them, and more, were manifested by age eight, when we first met in grammar school in 1946, and became bosom buddies for the rest of our lives. It’s remarkable to think that the adult man many of us knew was fully apparent at that tender age. How many youngsters are always happy, kind, gentle, trustworthy, and strong (and intelligent too)? – and full of adventure! He had a profoundly positive influence on my life. What would John do? — “seize the day”, and with joy! I promised a letter to Loie sharing some details of our youthful adventures, and his influence, by example, on my life. Hopefully, it won’t be too long to read at his memorial; and added here later, if she chooses. Our last get-together was at the Reptile Gardens reunion in 2007—site of so many happy adventures together. We never broke our high school promise, never to succumb to “old-age estrangement”. This is remarkable. It epitomizes John’s loving commitment to true friendship; in spite of the fact that he was on a different trajectory, of world fame. We exchanged many letters over the years, that usually ended with “Love and hugs”. I hope I’ll be able to share some of those “Love and hugs” with Loie, Lynn, Mark, Zoe, and Spenser.
Well said- I met John in 1957 as he was a friend of my cousin at Mansfield . In the summer of 1957 found me with my cousin at the Reptile Garden. I had to tag along every where even into caves . John was ever so kind Then over the years we loose track . Then all the high tech we find people. RIP., Judy Mosher Ebersole
Bill well said. I met John some time in 1954-55 as he was a friend of my cousin in Mansfield . In the summer of 1955 we are at the Reptile Gardens .as I had to tag along every where even into the caves. John was so very kind . Over years just lost touch. Now with all the high tech we find people from long ago. One always remembers the kindest. RIP John a life well lived . Judy Mosher Ebersole
I met John while working in the Antarctic Program and have known him for 25 plus years. I’ve been a climber for over 40 years and would have given my eye tooth to have John as my climbing mentor, you couldn’t ask for a better mentor in many endeavors life throws at us. John was a kind soul, very patient with others and a great story teller.
As John Wright mentioned, John was the driving force behind the South Pole Traverse of which I was the mountaineer in 2013.
John will be missed by all who have worked with him or have climbed with him.
May you rest in Peace John Evans
John Evan’s, what a powerful force for good and jewel of a man. I will always treasure a river trip adventure I experienced with the Evan’s family. I got an introduction to the way John approached life, when traveling with him and his kids to meet Loie for the River Orientation. We were very LATE!, because there were no straight lines to a destination, but not-to-be missed detours, hikes, viewing sites, in order to start our journey with wonder. I was struck how John brought adventure with him, making things magical and full of delight. And whether John was presenting an awe-inspiring slideshow of his Everest expeditions, or sharing some amusing anecdote in a self-deprecating manner, I so appreciated how he made me and others feel comfortable, valued, and included.
I am enriched because of John’s generous spirit, and grateful to Loie, Lynn, Mark, Zoe, and Spencer for sharing and continuing the Evan’s legacy of love and friendship.
I will remember John always as a dear friend. Our friendship developed through our special relationship to the Mount Vinson, the highest peak in the Antarctica. John and his friends climbed the summit as first human beings in 1966. I have been as German geologist part of the “United States Antarctica Research Program” (USARP) in 1979/80 and with two other colleagues, we have been successful as second ascent to climb Mt Vinson on the same route. That was the start of a long e-mail exchange resulting in a visit of my wife and I at their beautiful home in Evergreen. We spent some fantastic days together, visited Mount Evans and the American Mountaineering Museum in Golden whereas a flag of Mt. Vinson is published. It was a real pleasure of finally get to know Loie and John personally.
Loie and John were lovely hosts, we sung together mountain songs from Tyrol and my wife yodeled with him. John and I exchanged a lot of memories about our different experiences from multiple visits of the Himalaya. Unfortunately, there was no time for a counter visit of our two friends in Germany and our Alps. We have been inspired by those two wonderful people and will always remember John in best memories.
Ulrike and Peter von Gizycki
I knew John from the numerous years that we shared in the US Antarctic Program. I always thought of him as one of the kindest and calmest people I knew. He was so humble and modest when he would recount some amazing lifetime story of his…and then you’d always hear that notable John-Evans-laugh as he was building up to the finale. John was such a generous spirit who left only positive feelings to the endless number of lives that he touched. I am one of the many lucky people who had the blessed opportunity to know him.
I worked with John for 15 years in the USAP. He was kind, thoughtful, humble and had a great sense of humor. I still remember when he would stop at the admin desks and we would encourage him and he would recite poetry (the kind from salty sailors on the sea) and boy did he have a dramatic flair! He was just a great guy; and might I say, a very proud grandpa. More men should strive to be half the man that John was. It was a privilege to know him. I raise a glass of Sangria to you John – here’s to your next adventure….
I went to college with John, South Dakota School of Mines & Technology in 1959 & 1960. I just remember his genuine smile and kindness. He was on the wrestling team and I played football. It wasn’t until his junior year that he decided to join the football team even though he had never played football before. That didn’t stop him from running for a touchdown in one of the first games he ever played in. I remember how thrilled he was when he came back to the sidelines. The next year, which was his senior year, he made All Conference Fullback. No surprise to all of us who knew him. Even though I never saw John again I have never forgotten him.
My dear Loie. I am so very sorry for your, and the worlds, loss. This is dan Ahlstrom from your past. I read boatman’s quarterly since my wife went down the river 2 years ago. The best times of my life were with buzz and jim bob on the river. The other night I spent hours trying to remember Gsypee’s name, part of the ADS. Please tell buzz and Jody hello and I am sorry. Hope to see you some day. dan
So many warm memories. The oldest is of John driving me home after babysitting Lynn & Barry, maybe in a classic VW van?
One if the most vivid memories is going with Loie to help John. He was returning from a long day of skiing with their very independent dog McKinley who wouldn’t get back in his trusty Justy for the drive home. Far from home he began a painstakingly slow drive along the shoulder of the road so McKinley could trot along beside, stopping over and over again to invite the dog into the car. With the addition of Loie and some special treats that independent and tired dog eventually got in. John’s kindness and patience present without fail.
John’s strength and gentle spirit are surely serving him well as he journeys on.
I have just opened my 2020 AAC Journal and learned of John’s death in January and still have tears in my eyes several hours later. I knew/know John and Loie enough to say hello and talk. The last time I saw them was at an Evergreen Children’s Chorale Concert where my grand niece was performing and one or both of their grand daughters were performing. The last time I saw John was hiking up the Long’s Peak trail. He greeted me as he was coming down. I did not think he would remember me, but he did in his always warm, friendly, kind way.
My first knowledge of John was as a legendary hero in mountaineering — incredibly strong, impervious to cold and altitude, exceptionally skilled in climbing and mountaineering. I knew this because I was on a 7 person team that was getting ready to climb Mt. Logan by the King Col route in 1973, and of course we had read about the legendary Hummingbird Ridge climb on Mt. Logan. The story of John leaving his boots outside the tent at night, dusting off the snow in the morning, putting these frozen boots on and starting to climb, always amazed me. I could never imagine my being able to do that as my feet were always cold. Our team did indeed summit Mt. Logan’s highest peak and one other, and I always slept with my boots inside the tent under my head to keep them as warm as possible.
John, may you be resting in peace. I along with so many others miss you and hope to embody and to pass along your kindness and love of others.
Loie if you see this, please contact me.
1963 at university of Minnesota the student dorms had generic names. My dorm was Centennial. Across the hall from me was a man named John Evans. Not generic.
Our common thread was that I was in love with Gretchen Osterhof from Rapid City SD. Her Dad, dr GG Osterhof, taught chemical engineering at South Dakota school mines from which John had just graduated. When asked johnabout Dr Osterhof, he replied: “that bastard” Chemical engineering was not John’s long suit. We got along famously.
John played football at SDSM, full back, and wrestled alligators in the summer. I think the alligator thing was about improving his grip cause you rode the alligator successfully by holding its mouth shut. He did admit that his educational choice of geology had way more to do with Mt climbing than the technical parts of geology.
I did catch up with him during the Outward Bound phase. I’d seen the news paper articles about a calamity in/around Nepal when a sudden storm hit climbers, killing nearly all the members of a women’s climbing team. The article mentioned that John was last seen being swept away by an enormous avalanche. The “last seen “ part was unnerving so it was with some surprise that I picked up the phone to hear Kohn on the other end of the line. When I asked why he wasn’t dead he laughed and said, with his usual casualness, “Oh I just swam to the top of the avalanche and rode it the rest of the way down like I was on a surfboard”
What fun he was. Sorry to hear I missed talking to him the last years. I’d look him up, find a thread and then get distracted. My loss.
Hope this finds you all with fond memories to carry on.
Ps. I have one of those small town email addresses that doesn’t register as real. It actually is: thomson@tds..net and the one below
I’m entering this again. A slightly different t version. Just ran a cross the news and a different set of pictures as well as the published diaries so thought I would post twice.
1963 at university of Minnesota the student dorms had generic names. My dorm was Centennial. Across the hall from me was a man named John Evans. Not generic.
Our common thread was that I was in love with Gretchen Osterhof from Rapid City SD. Her Dad, dr GG Osterhof, taught chemical engineering at South Dakota school mines from which John had just graduated. When asked johnabout Dr Osterhof, he replied: “that bastard” Chemical engineering was not John’s long suit. We got along famously.
John played football at SDSM, full back, and wrestled alligators in the summer. I think the alligator thing was about improving his grip cause you rode the alligator successfully by holding its mouth shut.
He did admit that his educational choice of geology had way more to do with Mt climbing than the technical parts of geology.
I did catch up with him during the Outward Bound phase. I’d seen the news paper articles about a calamity in/around Nepal when a sudden storm hit climbers, killing nearly all the members of a women’s climbing team. The article mentioned that John was last seen being swept away by an enormous avalanche. The “last seen “ part was unnerving so it was with some surprise that I picked up the phone to hear John on the other end of the line. When I asked why he wasn’t dead he laughed and said, with his usual casualness, “Oh I just swam to the top of the avalanche and rode it the rest of the way down like I was on a surfboard”
What fun he was. Sorry to hear I missed talking to him the last years. I’d look him up, find a thread and then get distracted. My loss.
Hope this finds you all with fond memories to carry on.
Ps. I have one of those small town email addresses that doesn’t register as real. It actually is: thomson@tds..net as well as the one below
0ssplr