These photos are crazy, man. I went to CU with Peter for the year he was there. He talked about that Kimbalu trip, and the tyrolean - funny.
I was never much of a climber, more a skier, but he taught me some good skills, and friends, he and I he had some great adventures.
I remember we bivied on Quandary at 12,000' in a snow storm and summited and skied off the next day. His nose froze white on the way up, and on some level, I think he thought it was cool, i.e. all alpinist-like, tough.
On the way down, his binding screws kept pulling out of the crappy foam core tele skis he was on.
I got stressed and short with him, being green, and told him to get his sh1t together so we could get off the mountain. Of course, down at 10,000' the sun came out, it got warm, and I felt like an ass, but he took it all in stride as usual.
We also climbed Orizaba on a crazy intense road trip down in Mexico, the year Hale Bopp comet was in the sky, but earlier that year, he, Drew and I were up on Loveland pass, skinning and skiing in the Valley ski area in the middle of the night.
The tip loop on my Voile Snake Skins broke because it was so freakin' cold, at least -50, so we hung out in the snowcat garage at the ski area for a few hours until dawn, when I hitched back up to my car.
That night, the comet was huge, and I've never seen so many stars.
Outside of climbing and skiing, I remember he drove around in this old jeep that was full of gear and crap. My buddy Drew, he and I cleaned it out one day - banana peels, gear, stale pizza, gear, clothing...
I remember crashing in my car on the back side of Evans, freezing my arse off, after some stupid stunt. Peter crashed in his bivy, on the ground outside.
On waking, there was this 32 oz. beer he was drinking the night before, mostly full, frozen solid, sitting next to Peter's head. That guy could sleep ANYWHERE, a talent I envied.
Peter was also a big Indian food fan from growing up in Singapore, so we'd often, on a whim cook up these big thalis (mixed plates). He was always good for spontaneity, fun.
Peter was a great guy, and an old and gentle soul. We all loved him. He was like a younger brother to us. We all took it pretty damn hard when he died.
I saw something today about Peter not being a mover and shaker on some memorial, but it was way too early to tell if you ask me.
Judging by this thread, there was a lot more to the story, had he not been called back so soon. He taught a lot of skills, and was always up for any adventure. That spirit is pretty rare.
My now wife and I got to hear the news from Carl Castle on NPR on the radio on the way to school that morning, which was no fun at all.
I should put up some photos. I am not being morbid or sentimental, but Peter's is a story worth retelling. There's artwork in my portfolio linked below that is somehow related.
I was lucky to have known Peter for a year while i went to school in Singapore. I climbed with him many afternoons at the quarry. We pioneered some crazy routes out there and generally had a lot of fun swimming in the water on hot Singapore afternoons. I was a senior the year that we climbed together and he was a junior. We both ended up going to Nepal where we marveled at the mountains and wished we had more time. Peter and i also climbed Mt. Kinabalu over a three day weekend full of hiking, climbing, mini-busses, crazy bivouacs, hitchhiking and dodging fee demanding local tour guides that left both of us sunburt with chappy lips (a Peter trademark i might add) and sore as hell! Many times we ate dinner together at Newton Circus or any of the tasty local food vendors. Rainy days we climbed in the gym after school. I spent a couple of days climbing with Peter after we had both returned from overseas. We simul-climbed the flatirons to warm up and then spent some time on a few routes in Eldorado Canyon. The Ruper Traverse and another dihedral lower down in the canyon that i can't remember the name of. They were good days. Sunny, cool and the company couldn't have been better.
After Eldorado i had only sporadic contact with Peter over the years until one day i read of his passing in Climbing magazine. The article was recounting the details of the lawsuit surrounding the incident of his untimely death. I felt like i got punched in the stomach and i just sat there and stared for a while. I remembered all the things we had done together. Times that we had. I looked up some pictures that i had of him and of us climbing. I feel bad that i didn't get to attend his funeral. It's hard to keep up with your old schoolmates when your scattered all over the world. If his parents read this I want them to know that your son was a dear friend to me and that i miss him. I want to offer my condolences to you. Belated as they may be. Many times as i climb i feel that he is still with me in some way and all the time when i hike to the belay and sing "Truckin" by the Greatful Dead I think of him. Here is to Peter, a great climber and an even better friend!