Whillans Donald Desbrow

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Biografie:
Whillans Donald Desbrow "Don", * Salford , Lancashire, Manchester (England), + Kennington

Als Kind und Jugendlicher war Whillans Mitglied der Pfadfindergruppe Boy Scouts und unternahm ausgedehnte Wanderungen im Peak-District-Nationalpark. Mit der Felskletterei begann er 1950, ohne Einschulung und unzureichend ausgerüstet. Mit Joe Brown bildete er 1951 eines der besten Kletterteams in der Geschichte des englischen Bergsteigens. Sie bestiegen unter anderem die Felsformationen Shining Clough Rocks in Derbyshire, Clogwyn Du'r Arddu sowie Dinas Cromlech in Gwynedd und eröffneten die schwierige "Sassenach"-Route am Ben Nevis in den Grampian Mountains. 1952 kletterte er seine ersten Touren in den Alpen. 1954 gelang ihm mit Joe Brown eine der schwierigsten Routen im sechsten Grad durch die Blaitiére-Westwand. Im selben Jahr durchstiegen sie zudem als erst dritte Seilschaft, die Westwand des Petit Dru,3733 m. Im August 1961 gelang ihm mit Christian Bonington, Ian Clough, René Desmaison, Jan Dlugosz, Ignazio Piussi, Yves Pollet-Villard und Pierre Julien, die Erstbegehung des rund 500 m hohen Frêney-Zentralpfeilers am Montblanc,4810 m. Dieser galt als das letzte große Problem am höchsten Berg der Alpen. Ihre Kletterpartnerschaft endete mit der Einladung Joe Browns zu einer Himalaya-Expedition, wo Brown die Erstbesteigung des Kangchendzönga,8586 m, gelang. Im Januar 1963 gelang ihm mit Christian Bonington zudem die Erstbesteigung des Central Tower of Paine,2460 m, in der Cordillera del Paine-Gruppe in Patagonien. Im Mai 1970 schrieb er mit Dougal Haston erneut Alpingeschichte, als ihnen die Erstdurchsteigung der über 3000 m hohen Südwand der Annapurna,8091 m, im Himalaya gelang.
Weiters erkletterte er den Roraima-Tepui,2810 m, im Dreiländereck zwischen Venezuela, Brasilien und Guyana, sowie den Torre Egger,2880 m, an der argentinisch-chilenischen Grenze.
1971 und 1972 nahm er an Expeditionen zum Mount Everest,8848 m, teil, die jedoch beide aufgrund logistischer Probleme und Meinungsverschiedenheiten der Teilnehmer scheiterten.
Er galt zudem als äußerst vorsichtiger und umsichtiger Kletterer, der mehrere Erstbesteigungen und Gipfelsiege für seine eigene Sicherheit oder die anderer Kletterer nicht vollendete. Dazu gehörten Expeditionen zum Masherbrum,7821 m, 1957 (Tod eines Seilkollegen, Erfrierungen des Expeditionsleiters, Aufgabe rund 100 m unter dem Gipfel), zum Trivor,7577 m, 1960 (Lähmungserscheinungen in den Beinen), an die Eiger-Nordwand,3967 m, 1962 (Rettung eines verletzten Kletterers nach Steinschlag). Ähnliche sicherheitsbedingte Abbrüche folgten 1975 am Tirich Mir,7708 m,1981 am Shivling,6543 m,1983 am Cerro Torre,3128m, und 1983 am Broad Peak,8047m.
Mit einigen weiteren Kletterern war er Ende 1951 bei der Gründung des Rock and Ice Clubs in Manchester beteiligt, dessen Mitglieder das britische Klettergeschehen bis in die späten 1960er Jahre beherrschen konnten. 1953 war er Gründungsmitglied der elitären Alpine Climbing Group des britischen Alpine Clubs.
Die Auszeichnung Member of the British Empire (MBE), für die er aufgrund seiner zahlreichen Erfolge vorgesehen war, wurde ihm schließlich nicht mehr verliehen, da er sich 1975 nach einer Trunkenheitsfahrt eine Schlägerei mit Polizisten geliefert hatte.
Ab 1976 betrieb er eine Gaststätte im walisischen Penmaenmawr. Er starb 1985 im Alter von 52 Jahren an einem Herzinfarkt. Die British Mountaineering Council benannte 1993 eine Schutzhütte für Kletterer im Peak-District-Nationalpark nach ihm ("Don Whillans Memorial Hut").
G.Schauer

1951 1.Beg. "Cemetery Gates",E1, (Großbritanien)
1954 1.Beg.Ben Nevis-Carn Dearg Buttress "Sassenach-Chimney",1345m, (Schottland)
1954 3.Beg.Dru-Westwand "Magnone",VI/A2,900 HM,3791m, (Montblancgebiet)
1954 1.Beg.Aiguille de Blaitière-Westwand "Brownriss",VI+/A2,800 HM,3522m, (Montblancgebiet)
1957 Best.Vers.Masherbrum bis 7700m,7821m, (Karakorum,Pakistan)
1960 Best.Vers.Trivor,7577 m, (Karakorum,Pakistan)
1961 1.Beg.Montblanc-Frêney-Zentralpfeiler,VI/A1,50 °,750 HM,4807m, (Montblancgebiet)
1962 3.Beg.Civetta-Punta Tissi-Nordwestwand "Philipp-Flamm",VI/A1,1130 KM,2992m, (Civetta,Dolomiten)
1962 1.Beg.Aguja Poincenot-Südostpfeiler "Whillans-Führe",VI,60°,600 HM,3002m, (Patagonien)
1963 1.Best.Torre Central "Central Tower of Paine",2800m, (Patagonien)
1963 1.Beg.Torres del Paine-Torre Central-Ostwand "Bonington-Führe",ED IV,VII+/A2,700 HM,2800m, (Patagonien,Chile)
1963 1.Beg.Torre Zentral-Nordkante,2460m,VII+,(VI/A2), (Patagonien)
1967 Beg.Droites-Nordwand,4000m, (Montblancgebiet)
1970 1.Beg.Annapurna I-Südwand "Boningtonroute",3000 HM,8091m, (Himalaya,Nepal)
1971 Beg.Vers.Mount Everest-Südwestwand bis 8350m, (Himalaya,Nepal/Tibet)
1972 Teiln.Mount Everest-Expedition. (Himalaya,Nepal/Tibet)
1973 1.Beg.Tepui Roraima-Ostwand "Schiffsbug",500 HM,2810m, (Venezuele,Brasilien,Guyana)
1975 Best.Vers.Tirich Mir,7708m, (Hindukusch)
1981 Best.Vers.Shivling,6543 m, (Himalaya,Nordindien)
1983 Best.Vers.Cerro Torre,3128 m, (Patagonien)
1983 Best.Vers.Broad Peak,8051 m, (Karakorum,Pakistan)
Best.Torre Egger,2880 m, (Patagonien)
Beg.Petit Dru-Südwestpfeiler "Bonattipfeiler",VI/A2,1100 HM,3733m, (Montblancgebiet)
Beg.Grandes Jorasses-Nordwand "Walkerpfeiler",VI/A1,1200 HM,4208m, (Montblancgebiet)
Beg.Cima Su Alto-Nordwestverschneidung,2951m, (Civetta,Dolomiten)
Beg.Große Zinne-Nordwand (Direttissima) "Hasse-Brandler",VI+A/3,2999m, (Sextener Dolomiten)
Beg.Marmolata di Penia-Südpfeiler ?Micheluzzipfeiler,La Direttissima?,VI/A0,550 HM,3344m, (Dolomiten)
Beg.Lalidererspitze-Nordwand-Nordverschneidung "Rebitsch-Lorenz",VI+/A0,800HM,
2583m, (Karwendel)
Gerd Schauer, Isny im Allgäu


Don Whillans,englischer Spitzenbergsteiger und Teilnehmer an der Mount-Everest-Expedition 1972 unter Dr. Herrligkoffer, wird die Hauptschuld für das Scheitern der Expedition zugeschoben. Die Expedition hatte drei Versuche gemacht und war jeweils über 8000 m vorgedrungen (obwohl in den Zelten Temperaturen von 40 Grad minus geherrscht hatten). Dann wurde sie abgebrochen. Felix Kuen, bergsteigerischer Leiter der Expedition: »Whillans war schon mit einem Bierbauch und ohne jede Kondition angereist, er erklärte sofort, er brauche drei Wochen zur Akklimatisierung, und leistete zehn bis zwölf Tage lang keine Arbeit; durch den 4 km langen Khumbu-Bruch hat er weder etwas getragen noch den Weg mitgebaut.« Dr. Herrligkoffer: »Ich werde nie mehr eine Expedition mit Engländern unternehmen. Whillans hatte schon unten erklärt, daß er sich den Anordnungen nicht fügen werde, und seine beiden Landsleute entsprechend beeinflußt. Das hat die Sache zeitlich verzögert — hätten die Engländer mitgearbeitet, wären wir schneller gewesen — und auch Unfrieden gestiftet. « Leo Schlömmer, Teilnehmer der Internationalen Mount-Everest-Expedition 1971 von Dyhrenfurth, ist ebenfalls der Meinung, daß das Scheitern von damals nicht auf die französischen Teilnehmer Mazeaud und Vaucher, sondern in erster Linie auf die englischen Bergsteiger zurückzuführen wäre.
Da bisher noch kein Engländer auf dem Gipfel des Mount Everest gestanden hat, wären die drei englischen Teilnehmer bei der diesjährigen Expedition daran interessiert gewesen, sich möglichst zu schonen, um in der Gipfelmannschaft mit dabeizusein. Als das wegen ihrer Konditionsschwierigkeiten nicht ging, hätten Sie sich auf Sabotage verlegt. Kuen: »Die Zelte hatten sie absichtlich offengelassen, so daß wir in ihrem Inneren 20 cm dickes Eis vorfanden. Das Funkgerät war ein unbenützbarer Eisklumpen geworden. Ab Lager 4 (7400 m) schliefen die Engländer nur noch mit Sauerstoff, was nicht üblich ist und von unseren Leuten nicht gemacht wurde. 18 Flaschen Sauerstoff mußten allein deshalb zusätzlich hinaufgeschafft werden. 40 weitere Flaschen (das sind 20 Trägerlasten) forderten sie an und ließen sie dann oben liegen, offenbar in der Absicht, sie für ihre eigene Expedition im Herbst dieses Jahres dort wieder verwenden zu können. Wir könnten fast von Sabotage sprechen.«
Herrligkoffer auf die Frage, warum man die drei Engländer überhaupt mitgenommen habe: »Whillans war im Vorjahr bereits dort, brachte also eine gewisse Everest-Erfahrung mit.«
In der Darstellung der Engländer für den »Observer«, den sie laufend mit Meldungen versorgten, las man es allerdings anders: Sie hätten den Österreichern entscheidend beim Tragen und beim Bau der Lager geholfen und wären konditionsmäßig die stärkste Teilnehmergruppe gewesen.
Quelle: Der Bergsteiger 1972, Heft 8, Seite 497


Quelel: Himalaya Journal 1984/85, Seite 228 f

Donald Desbrow Whillans 1933-1985
Oration read at Don Whillans's funeral 9 August 1985.
Donald Desbrow Whillans was without fear of contradiction the most outstanding all-round mountaineer this country has ever produced. He excelled in every type of terrain; on the cliffs of Britain, in the Alps, in Patagonia with its ferocious storms, in the Andes, but most significantly in the Himalaya. The fact that he survived an unparalleled series of adventures and ascents in the mountains is perhaps the most telling aspect of his career, for only a climber with the soundest of judgement could have been so successful. But Don was more than a mountaineer; he was a legend, an institution beloved by us all. Don was born in Salford in 1933 and therefore grew up in an era of austerity during and immediately after the last war. He hailed from a typical Northern city background, with a grimy environment, but a close-knit community which bred self-reliance, determination and a no frills attitude to life. Don when young was an excellent gymnast, and a fme rugby player. On leaving school he had to work hard at physically demanding tasks and eventually became an apprentice plumber. Young climbers today train to develop strength and fitness but in Don's youth it was physical employment which did this. He developed great strength, stamina and fitness beyond the norm.
He started hill walking and this naturally led on to rock climbing and a chance meeting at the Roaches with Joe Brown. This led on to the formation of The Rock & Ice Club in 195 I, and the stage was set for one of 'the most outstanding partnerships in British climbing history. From the beginning Don carved out his own niche, for his first ascents were like his own character: bold, uncompromising and fierce, and were not often repeated in those days of almost unprotected leads. First on gritstone, then on the bigger rock walls in North Wales, the Lake District and Scotland, his brilliant climbs such as Sloth, Slanting Slab, Extol and Centurion presented a challenge that few could follow. Surrounded by an elite of young climbers, the halcyon days of the 1950s led Don to become an alpinist, and before the decade was over he was undoubtedly the country's leading figure in this field. First there were the early climbs with Joe Brown such as the third ascent of the W face of the Dru, and the first ascent of the W face of the Blatiere in 1954, followed by many other great climbs which included early repeats in the Dolomites and the Mont Blanc Range, routes such as the Bonatti Pillar and the Cima Su Alto, culminating with an outstanding first ascent in 1961 of the Central Pillar of Freney. On this he shared the honours with Christian Bonington.
In 1957 Don visited the Himalaya for the first time, as a member of the Masherbrum expedition. This was a most significant experience for him, and although he failed narrowly to make the first ascent of this most difficult peak, and his close friend Bob Downes died of oedema, from that moment onwards he was held in the thrall of the highest mountains of the world. He could have continued easily to make rich pickings at home, in our homeland hills, but more and more the hostile environment and the adventures to be found amongst the remotest ranges was where he wished to place his effort.
Don married early and was extremely fortunate in his life-long partner Audrey, who stood by him through the vicissitudes of some of the greatest mountaineering adventures of all time. In Patagonia on the Aiguille Poincenot, on the Towers of Paine, in attempting the Torre Egger, in the Andes on Huandoy, in the jungle of Roraima, but most of all on the many Himalayan expeditions he undertook. On Trivor, on Gauri Sankar, the South Face of Annapurna - that trend setting, most technically difficult face route of its era - followed by the subsequent attempts on the SW face of Everest, and the many later expeditions such as Shivling and Broad Peak.
Don was an innovator as a climber, but he also brought to other aspects of our sport an enquiring mind. He developed the first modern type of sit-harness, which up until recently was the most widely used piece of equipment of its type in the world. He designed an alpine rucksack, a type of piton hammer (the famous Whammer!), he was forced to consider the inadequacy of tents in the high winds of Patagonia and came up with the idea on the Paine Expedition of 1962 of a 'Box'. These were later to prove a key factor in the successful Himalayan climbs of the early 1970s. Through all this Don remained unaffected by success or failure, and truly Kipling's poem 'If could have been written about and for him. For triumph and disaster were equally well met by him; he hated cant, could not stand bull and remained true to his own standards and beliefs throughout his life.
Don kept up his friendships and in touch with his roots. He maintained an amazing network of contacts throughout the world, and in this country he must have had a resting place, a stop-over spot in almost every town and city in the UK. He worked at this, he kept up his communications and the roar of a motor bike engine outside the front door usually signalled the arrival of the Villain. He had the physique of a pocket Hercules, and the stories of his brushes with bullies and over-zealous authoritarian persons will probably grow each year in their telling. Usually he managed to come out on top, and as in all the best stories the bullies were routed, though occasionally he did come out the worse, and on those occasions was not frightened of telling the story against himself. Don was scrupulously honest about his climbing, and always saw things in a black and white fashion. He could not understand any reason why it should not be so. You described the climb exactly as you achieved it, with no frills into the bargain. In his earlier days he was possessed of such drive, physical energy and strength that lesser mortals such as myself found him a forbidding companion whilst waiting to climb, but once under way then you knew he would either get you to the top or organise a retreat in good order. And quite the opposite of his behaviour socially at that time, his patience with younger climbers was surprising. He once held my rope for half a day whilst I battled with Slape Direct. Retreat was not to be countenanced, he intended for me to be successful and if need be he would throw me to the top.
Over the years he mellowed. He continued with his interest in motorbikes and he was a safe and competent rider. In the Rock and Ice era he often managed to keep his bike up on its wheels when every other rider dropped their bikes due to bad road conditions. He became interested in matters as diverse as sky diving, sub aqua and breeding tropical fish.
My fondest recent memory of him was of his teaching my small girl to somersault - despite his accumulated girth - across our living-room carpet. The hardest of hard men, he had beneath the surface a soft centre. He retained throughout a common touch, and a quick wit. When young this could be hurtful, but over the years it was refined and it became loving, and it became a legend. He was truly a master of repartee and the one-liner. His lectures of his climbs were always punctuated by laughter, and this made him popular with a younger audience, and he became a cult figure although they had never seen him climbing at his peak.
We shall miss him so much, especially those of us who are no longer in the first flush of youth. For to know that Don was out there, indestructible and engaged in some titanic struggle or keeping his end up in the pub brought comfort. For it was a signal to us that you could just keep on trucking throughout this life.
The ancient Greeks believed that as long as you were being talked or written about, as long as you were in somebody's thouglits somewhere, you had immortality. Don is assured of this, for his memorials are his climbs and deeds. They will be talked about, written about as long as human beings set forth to take up the challenge set by our physical environment. In the telling they may become exaggerated, they may even become distorted. But we will be able to say truthfully to the enquiry 'What was Don Whillans really like?' simply the answer 'Absolutely unique.' I doubt if any of us will ever see his like again.
Dennis Gray

Chris Bonington writes:
He was wearing a cloth cap, was small, lean and obviously very hard. I recognised him immediately, and felt an excitement that was akin to awe. In 1958, Whillans and Brown were undisputed stars; many of their routes were unrepeated and their best climbs were at a standard on their own, considerably harder than anything that anyone else could put up. They had dominated the scene for a period of ten years, but in an age that today seems almost prehistoric, when there was no popular climbing media and climbing tales were passed haphazardly by word of mouth, their achievements and the activities of the Rock and Ice, inevitably, were embellished in the telling.
Harnish MacInnes and I, with the two Austrian climbers Walter Phillip (of Phillip Flamm fame) and Richard Blach, were bivvied on the Rognon below the Drus, about to attempt its SW Pillar. At the time it was the chief Alpine test piece and had only had four ascents, none of them British. Don Whillans and Paul Ross also wanted to try it out. On our first bivouac a crisis occurred when Harnish was hit on the head by a falling stone. We did not want to retreat, having just witnessed thousands of tons of rock, that had broken away from the Flammes de Pierres, go crashing down the gully we had climbed that morning. I do not think I could have got Hamish, in his concussed state, up that climb, and it was in this kind of crisis that Don came into his own. He hauled Hamish up the rest of the SW Pillar, looked after him and encouraged him over the next three days as we worked our way up and over the Pillar.
It was on the SW Pillar that I discovered that Don was much more than a superb climber and allround mountaineer. If things were going to get rough, you could not be with a better partner. He was totally dependable, never flapped and maintained a dry sense of humour that somehow helped keep the situation in perspective.
We spent the summers of 1961 and '62 laying siege to the North Wall of the Eiger, spending over a month in '61, living on £ 20 loaned us by John Streedey, waiting for the face to come into condition. We went onto it three times that summer but the conditions were never right, either too much snow, too much stone-fall or unsettled weather. Each time we returned to our tent and a diet of potatoes and eggs. Sharing a tent with Don was a matter of constant manoeuvre. He did not believe in cooking, washing up or doing any of the day-today chores. I was equally lazy and we would go for hours without cooking, each trying to wear the other down. Don usually won, commenting, 'The trouble with you Chris is that you're greedier than I am.' He was right. He had been brought up in a hard school, and would often say, 'I'll meet anyone half-way.' This could make for a difficult relationship because it meant that his friends had to go slightly more than half-way to make the whole thing work.
In '61, we finally abandoned our Eiger vigil to go over to Chamonix to attempt the Central Pillar of Freney. We climbed it with Ian Clough and Jan Djugloz, hotly pursued by a Franco-Italian team comprising Desmaison, Julien, Poulet Villard and Piussi. It was the fillest climb that I suspect any of us had ever climbed before or since. Don led most of the key section of the 'Chandelle', having one of his very few leader falls in trying to get into the overhanging chimney near the top, climbing free about 7m above his last piton runner. All I could see were his legs kicking against the rock ISm above me. 'I'm coming off, Chris.'
There was a long pause - not even a man as hard as Whillans resigns himself to falling. I hunched over my belay, wondering what the impact would be, whether his pegs would stay in. A mass of flailing arms and legs shot down towards me, the rope came tight with a sudden, but not over-violent jerk, and I found myself looking up into Don's face. He was hanging upside down a metre or so out from me, suspended from one of his pegs. He had fallen around 15m. 'I've lost me bloody 'at.'
He spun round a second time and the dreadful realisation came.'Me fags were in the 'at.'
He was not worried that all our money was stuffed into his hat as well. We raced back to the Eiger shortly after completing the Central Pillar, this time reaching the Swallow's Nest Bivouac, just beyond the Hinterstoisser Traverse, but the weather was unsettled, the stones whistling down even in the early morning, and we turned back. Our decision-making on the mountain was very easy. We thought along the same lines. It was a partnership, but Don was the senior partner, in age and experience, through the sheer force of his personality and his excellent, intuitive mountain judgement.
We spent the summer of '62 in the Alps with the Eiger once again our main objective. This time we had Don's bike, which we drove all the way up the narrow path to AIpiglen to find that the face was streaming in water. We went off to climb the W face of the Aiguille Noire de Peuterey, and then once again back to the Eiger. This time we reached the foot of the Second Ice-Field, were about to turn back because of stone fall, when some Swiss guides caught us up to tell us that two of our compatriots were in trouble at the other end of the IceField. One of them, Barry Brewster, fell to his death, but we were able to bring Brian Nally back across the ice-field amongst a bombardment of stone-fall. It was certainly the most frightening thing that I have ever done and it was Don's totally cool, proficient presence that helped make it feasible.
I shall always be a little sad, even guilty, that circumstances dictated that we did not climb the North Wall of the Eiger together. Don had had to return to England earlier than I, the weather was perfect and I went for it with Ian Clough. It undoubtedly created a strain in our relationship; it was almost a repeat of the odd chances that had given his climbing partners better breaks than he had experienced - the way that Joe Brown had been to the top of Kangchenjunga and the Mustagh Tower, when Don had given his all on Masherbrum and Trivor, but had not made it.
We went to Patagonia in the Autumn of 1962 to attempt the Central Tower of Paine. Throughout the earlier part of the expedition we tacitly avoided each other, climbing with other partners. It developed into a siege against the winds and weather which was compounded by the arrival of an Italian team determined to go for the same objective. It was Don who conceived our secret weapon, the first ever Whillans Box, prefabricated from timber and a tarpaulin found round Base Camp. It showed a practical strategic ingenuity that amounted to genius. It meant that pairs could take turns in sitting out the storms just below the Central Tower itself.
We were back at base camp one night when Don and I happened to go out for a pee at the same time. We stood looking at high cloud scudding across the moonlit sky. We looked at each other. 'You know Don, we've avoided each other up to now - I think we'd best get together.'
'Aye, I've been thinking along the same lines myself.'
A few days later we climbed the Central Tower of Paine a day in front of theItalians.
Except for a short spell on the Eiger Direct in 1966, we did not climb together again until 1969. I was planning the Annapurna South Face Expedition and Don was an obvious, indeed vital, choice but he seemed to have lost interest in British and even Alpine climbing; he had undoubtedly put on weight, not to the magnificent proportions of recent years, but he certainly was not as fit as he had been in the early sixties. We went winter climbing together in Scotland with Tom Patey and after an abortive attempt on Surgeon's Gully, did the first winter ascent of the Great Gully of Ardgour. Don had taken his time on the way up, was content to let Tom and myself lead the first two pitches, but at the foot of the third, an ice encrusted chimney that was uncomfortably wide, he said:
'It's my turn.' And he moved up it without any kind of protection with a complete certainty. I found it desperate to follow. He had lost none of his genius.
On the S face of Annapurna Don's forthright, single-minded approach undoubtedly complemented my own leadership style. His work out in front with Dougal Haston, culminating in their push to the summit, was a magnificent piece of mountaineering in the face of deteriorating weather.
It was a delight to climb with Don again in the Lakeland Rock television series shown in April 1985, when we repeated Dovedale Groove, the route he and Joe Brown had pioneered in 1952 (it was ten years before it was repeated). We had had our differences in the past, but we had also had some of the finest climbing together that either of us had ever had. No doubt both of us had mellowed with time and it was good to share a rope once again, to' be at the receiving end of that shrewd, sharp, yet essentially kind, humour. Don had grown with the years, in every sense of the word, to be the best loved personality in British climbing. It is a reputation that will stand the test of time. He was both one of Britain's greatest climbers and characters.

Hany Sales writes:
Don Whillans was a splendid man. I use the word advisedly: if in doubt consult the OED, ignoring meaning 1. which is wide of the mark for Don. His splendour lay in his climbing and mountaineering achievements about which I am not competent to write. Fortunately others have done so, both here and in the many other mountaineering journals, at his memorial day and, even in verse, here at the Club.
I, like so many others, knew him better as a mere human. His toughness and potential aggressiveness masked one of the most kindly and loyal personalities. Again I use my words advisedly because not only did he decry the modern tendency to push oneself to the exclusion of others but he put his principles into practice throughout his life, caring for and seeking to sustain the lives of others in the direst of situations. Instances of this are legend.
He had the reputation for not suffering fools gladly: see, for example, Ronnie Wathen's poem if you can get a copy. But foolishness does not equate to not being a hard mart: Don was equally at home with ordinary mortals like myself. He used to visit us when we were using that splendid house of Su and John Fowler at Sennen Cove, he happily enjoying all our facilities and we delighting in his company. Whillans stories are countless but now I cannot resist telling my own, which I properly refrained from using when we paid tribute to him at the Club, thus intriguing the President.
Don had been watching an old film on television of the murderer who was pursued everywhere, even into his bath, by the severed hand of his victim. The next morning he, Don, with a drinking friend, sauntered across from the Lands End Hotel to the rocks at the top of the Long Climb up the Hotel Buttress. By sheer coincidence Derek Walker, his daughter Jane and I were on that climb and I led through that last, easy pitch. My hand appeared on the final rock as Don approached and with horror he staggered back with the words, indelibly printed on my memory: 'Eee, there's an 'and 'ere.' Then, with a profound sigh of relief, 'Ooh, it's 'Arry's.'
Other stories are stronger, more sardonic or scathing. That of Chris, about the German climbers, is one of the best. The one about the noise in the Alpine hut is more succinct. What they all have in common is that they show that Don was never at a loss for words and that the words, though few and laconic, were always right for the occasion.
But this was just one part of his personality. He in the round, figuratively and literally, was a delight and a man one can be proud to have known.

John Bany writes:
I last saw Don Whillans at a rock'n'roll competition. He was the judge, taking his duties with great mock-seriousness, up on the stage and rolling his bones with the best of them. And the best of them were mostly 30 years his junior, which did not seem to matter to anyone. That was one of the things that always struck me about the man; how it was he bestrode generations, commanding instant attention, quick respect, no matter what age the audience; or who they were; or from where they came. When Whillans was doing the talking (and he usually was), others, all others, listened.
I saw that often, and wondered at it: Buxton conferences, Kendal film festivals, Alpine Club symposiums, lectures, bars - anywhere where climbers gathered. When he spoke they, great and small, young and old, tyro and tiger - they listened; and, as often as not, they learned. He was awesome –literally - and gave every impression that he enjoyed being it. Not that he exploited it particularly, but he was clearly at home before an audience. Which was just as well since that was where we all wanted him - before us.
I did not know him well (we all knew of him), but he seemed to be all we wanted, all we needed; some-time master of all the mountaineering games we play, a star in every climbing theatre.
In a way that is difficult to put a finger on, he was funny, very funny. I heard him say quite ordinary things that spoken by you or me would have met with stony silence. Uttered by Whillans the same few words had audiences falling about. His wit was acerbic, pithy, northern (or so northerners like to think). We, the audience, laughed or listened as he bid. He had a gift that is given to few. He could stand gravitas and levity side by side, word by word, so that laughter was succeeded by reflection; a happy knack that made him the most oft-quoted man in modern mountaineering.
He was special, perhaps unique, without peer or successor; recognised as king where there is no recognised kingdom; an image that will survive our iconomachy.
He died in his sleep, a good enough way to go and a tribute to his own judgement as a mountaineer. (On one of his retreats from the North Face of the Eiger, he passed two Japanese heading resolutely through the storm towards the mountain. 'Up, always upwards', they said. 'You may be going up mate but a lot 'igher than you think', Whillans warned.)
He was short, lean and mean when he began. At the end he was the short, fat, funny man who we all took seriously, partly because few dared not to, partly because he could squeeze more neat wisdom into the wit of one sentence than most of us manage in a lifetime.
There will be a rather bigger than average gap at tomorrow's festivals, conferences, symposiums and shindigs. Yes, and at the rock'n'roll competitions too.

Phil Bartlell writes:
'Dear Phi!
Many thanks for your letter re AJ article. I think that an article along the lines you suggest would not be out of place; I would write it from a personal viewpoint, that way it wouldn't be "heavy" in the way of attempting to tell anyone else how they should be doing things. Should have plenty of time to do it while I sit about in the Karakoram with Doug Scott this summer.
Cheers the noo,
Don.
PS "Taking Stock" seems a good title.'
I received this letter from Don Whillans some time before he died. The subject I had in mind is well indicated by the title the article was to carry - Taking Stock'.
Freedom is an unreasonable business; we go to the mountains to find it, but if a climber has talent and ambition it is forever threatening to slip away. Problems of sponsorship, of the media, of the subsequent pressures to 'get to the top', put decisions on a new level and can make a travesty of 'The Freedom of the Hills'. It is tempting to suppose that with regard to climbing in the greater ranges these problems are today greater than they have ever been before, though that must be arguable. What is not arguable is that Don Whillans was seen by the mountaineering fraternity as the man 'in charge' par excellence, one man who still had his freedom and made his own decisions. In this he had no peer, indeed, no equal. His climbing achievement was outstanding but his importance was much more than that. He was felt to represent a psychological achievement which was difficult ~o define yet clearly recognizable by everybody. Jim Curran referred in a recent obituary to his participation in the recent AC/ACG Himalayan Climbing Symposium and the effect his words had on all present. He was accepted as the man with the wise answers.
And when a journal editor wanted to commission an article with the title 'Taking Stock', not just of the writer's own career but of the whole state of mountaineering, there was absolutely no question of whom he would want to write it.
'Life is meeting' as John Hunt says, and so is mountaineering in large part. This issue of the AJ contains a number of appreciations by people who knew Whillans. But amongst the rest of us there is still an enormous feeling of regret. In terms of his insight and good sense Whillans was regarded as public property; and amongst all post-war mountaineers it is perhaps Whillans whom one most regrets not having met.
Quelle: Alpine Journal Volume 91, 1986, Seite 273-281


Geboren am:
18.05.1933
Gestorben am:
04.08.1985