TJ Langley

I was lucky enough to cross paths in life with one of those people you might meet just once in your lifetime. He passed away last week doing what he loved...climbing. Since I can't be at his memorial in Seattle I wanted to dedicate today's entry to him. I think his primary gift in life was to pick people up with cheer and acceptance. To put them under his wing. That's TJ Langley for you. My thoughts and condolences go out to his family and to his friends back home. I know a lot of you knew him a lot longer than I did but he had an effect on people. For me it was profound. I met TJ at a New Year's cabin party (hi Chiwawa gang). Going there I only knew the hosts and was a little hesitant being the new person. TJ included me right away and chatted with me in the kitchen since I was a little embarrassed to go out to the group having forgotten that it was a costume party. Sometime in the morning as people were preparing what they were contributing to breakfast I mentioned to TJ that I forgot about bringing something to share. I had brought dinner items but who eats chips and salsa for breakfast? He had brought something and as we sat down and each person pointed out what they made I was nervous. Nervous that as it got to me I would have to admit to my double-lameness of no costume and no breakfast food. Instead, when it was TJ's turn he said "Mandie and I brought this to share." I can't remember what it was. Here was someone who had met me 10 hrs before and he totally had my back. We were fast friends after that. TJ had that effect on people.

This summer TJ and I planned to climb Forbidden Peak together. I had tried to plan it 2 years in a row but the weather never matched up. TJ and I had to reschedule 3 times this summer due to weather. If the weather was bad he was the first person to say, "on a ridge during a lightning storm? -- let's go grab beerses (TJ's plural for beers)". We finally had a weekend that said "partly cloudy with a chance of clearing" so we decided to go for it. When we got to the trailhead the rain was coming down hard. We came up with a plan to get up at 4 am and hit the trail no later than 5 am. If it didn't clear up by 10 am we would call it since we didn't want the rock to be wet and because the fog was imposing. When we started out it was no longer raining but there was a load of water on the leaves of the trees all along the trail from the previous night's rain. TJ went first. He got blasted with water coming off every branch. So did I but he got it worse since he was in front. Within 5 min it looked like we had literally stepped into a shower with all our clothes on and then had gone hiking. We did some damage control by changing our layering system so as to have some dry layers later. The trail crossed some avalanche debris. We temporarily lost sight of the trail and worked hard to get through the mess. We followed the tracks of other folks who had taken a higher route aroud the mass of tree trunks and rocks. In the trees, I occasionally offered to go first to get the brunt of the water for a while but TJ grumbled something to the effect that he would rather be miserably cold than make me miserably cold.

As 10 am came it wasn't raining but we were still soaked, the mountain was completely fogged in and TJ called it off. I quickly agreed. But he suggested since we were close to the base of the route that we keep hiking for "15 min" so as to know exactly where to go next time. We hiked and hiked having a nice conversation. I laughed at everything he said that was funny and pondered everything that he said that was serious. Man his wit was a talent. But so was his love of books, knowledge of current events and understanding of the human condition through the best of times and the worst. Part of the reason I enjoyed TJ's company so much is he was best friends with his sister, Joy. I have the same friendship with my brother and I love it when brothers are close to their sisters. They are the best protectors. We talked about a variety of things but he kept checking in to make sure I wasn't too cold.

Instead of 15 min we ended up going over an hour more. Not that we weren't paying attention. Now that our outing had turned into a day hike and it had stopped raining there wasn't really a rush except that I was dreaming of a hot shower. TJ said "let's just go to that point up there" and when he beat me to the spot I was reluctant to keep going. I admit I was a little grumpy at that point. That hot shower calling again. He yelled "come on, you're almost here." When we got there I was a little short with him. TJ said "I made a nice lunch spot for us." He had leveled out a fantastic picnic spot with a good deal of effort. I felt like a jerk. Then we sat down to eat and he pointed out what mountains were all around us (that we couldn't see). He painted me a picture, "Sahale Peak is over there, El Dorado is over there, Johannesburg is over there." As TJ described it it was "Purdy." TJ didn't talk about himself much. He would rather hear about your story. We hiked at TJ-pace coming in but by the time we knew we weren't going to summit we just enjoyed a leisurely hike back to the car (well, leisurely for TJ). In the end his assessment about our conversation was "Wow, you really are tightly wound." And he was exactly right. I am. When we got to the avi debris TJ spent 20 min moving a key tree trunk out of the way so nobody else would lose the trail. He was such a great steward of the mountains.

TJ was so good at listening to people's heartbreaks and making them okay. On a different occasion I had told him about a hard time I was going through. He said "Have you ever read Calvin and Hobbes?" I told him I used to read that all the time. A few days later we met over a beer. He had a stack of Calvin and Hobbes for me to read for as long as I needed and gave me 2 hrs of amazing advice and counsel. A week later I got an email. "How is C and H?" He did that kind of thing for alot of people. I got permission from his friend, Morgan (thanks Morgan), to relay a story she shared. She wrote, "TJ had a dance he called the 'The Away Bad Feelings Dance'. When something was upsetting, you were supposed to flail around, arms and limbs akimbo saying 'Away Bad Feelings, Away Bad Feelings'. I'd be on the phone with a sadness and he'd say 'do the Dance.' I'd hesitate. He'd say,'doooo it, you'll feel better'. If we listen closely, I bet we'll hear him saying, 'do the dance. Dooooo it.'"

TJ was one of the people I wanted to see before I left for Antarctica. Partly because he was so excited for me and partly because he had become such a good friend. We planned to have coffee but then as the date of my departure approached I became busier and busier. I called him that day and said I knew it was kind of lame but I really needed some stuff at REI. Would he be okay if we went shopping at REI instead of having coffee? Knowing he probably had a climb that weekend and needed a few things it seemed like a good idea. He said "Yep, let's do it. I'm overcaffeinated today anyway". Then he helped me pick out the big duffel bags for my trip. His world traveling experience came in handy. We got all our shopping done but since it didn't last very long we stayed outside on the bench visiting for a while. We talked about Blackberries and Iphones of all things. Just randomness. Then we had a really nice conversation about life and such. As we got up to leave he said "How are you doing?" Thinking he meant how am I doing with my preparations I said "Good, I actually feel pretty prepared". He interrupted me and said "No. How are you Doing?" He was referring to my C and H associated sadness. If you are the type of person who expects a lot out of your friends he is the type of person that makes you set your standards high. He had everyone's back. He was rich with friendships.


I was feeling sad in my room the other night. Thinking about him and staring at the duffels he helped me buy. The midnight sun isn't quite here in Antarctica yet. The sun sets at about 10:30 pm right now. It's so powerful and stunning. I watched it a lot when I first got here but hadn't watched it for a while. This particular night I felt a huge pull to go watch the sunset. As I walked down the hall I heard people saying "Did you see the sunset tonight? No...I know...it's always beautiful, but did you see it TONIGHT. Go see it TONIGHT!" It was odd to hear that from someone when I had been in a room with the window shade drawn, about to turn over to go to sleep, but still felt a pull to go outside. I had seen the sunset a lot walking back from the little gym here so I thought maybe this person just hadn't been out at that time of night before. As I walked out of the door everything metal on McMurdo station had an orange glow to it. The buildings, the stairwells, the doors. Unlike anything I'd ever seen...but happy, like a really warm smile. The sun was glaring off everything and I walked all the way to the edge of the sea ice. To where we aren't allowed to go any further. I felt TJ really strongly (like he was on stage) and had a little conversation with him. I kind of whispered while staring at the glorious orange ball against the Royal Society Range.


Me: Hi TJ


TJ: Hi Mandie.


Me: I miss you and really wish this hadn't happened.


TJ: I know, I'm sorry. I was doing exactly what I loved though. And it was beautiful. I have alot of people I'm watching over right now in Yakima and Seattle but I just wanted to come down South of 60 to say I haven't forgotten you. By the way, the climbing up here is fantastic and my new and improved beginner ski skills are improving.


Me: We are all really going to miss you around here.


TJ: I know. But I'll always be here. Quit being so darn sad and just make sure you live a good life.

I think that there are certain things that we as mere mortals don't know yet or might not understand. Things that don't make sense right now but they will someday. I know for one thing...for TJ's sake and for mine too...I'm going to try to enjoy the spice of life, to live a life not so tightly wound. Not focusing on being who I wish to be but rather who I am.

http://www.tjlangleymemorial.com/