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Charlie Fowler: A Climber's Life
The Telluride climber Damon Johnson, a longtime friend and climbing partner of Fowler’s, helped spearhead the fund-raising efforts (via Mountainfilm) and kept a blog of the search efforts at fowlerboskoff A Better Partner I Could Not Have ImaginedBy Damon Johnson What stood out most about Charlie was that he was humble. On all those weekends in the last 10 years, Charlie and I almost never talked about his accomplishments, and there are so many things I now wish I had asked him about. He was starting to paint his life through words and images. We talked about filming a series of interviews about not only his travels and adventures, but about the causes that drove his moral side. This was, lately, more important than any of his physical accomplishments. Charlie was in love with the unknown. I’d arrive at his house early in the morning to pick him up for a day of exploring new routes, and every surface would be laden with open books, magazine articles, journals, and in more recent times — the Net — multiple screens of information all going at once. He’d scour them looking for where that “line” was between the known and the unknown. And you could bet that the purpose of his next trip would be to cross that line and document both the mountains and the cultures he encountered along the way. Standing there, with his self-repaired reading glasses on, Charlie would dive into a story that would occupy us for the hour-plus drive into the desert. One of Charlie’s goals was to bear witness. His interest in photography was obvious — I can count the times on one hand that Charlie didn’t bring a camera. He took thousands and thousands and thousands of non-digital photos. He experimented with Polaroid transfers. One of his favorite things to shoot was the annual Norwood Rodeo a few minutes walk from his front door. “The more the merrier,” he would say whenever someone wanted to go climbing — and he meant it. Experienced or not, he was always at the ready to share a day of climbing. Charlie was so happy to be out in the world with friends, but at the same time, he would, without hesitation, give up a day of climbing to help a friend collect firewood for the winter. I will miss the “Yeehaw!” that escaped from him every time we reached the base of a wall with our heavy packs, shirts drenched. I will miss the pure-thrill of “giggling” at an unexplored cliff — nervous acknowledgment that we were looking at first ascents. I will miss this climber, photographer, world traveler, writer, filmmaker, actor, artist, historian, teacher, student, and friend so very much. Charlie: You will be with me every time I head into the “wild, wild west.” A better partner I could not have imagined.
The Telluride climber Damon Johnson, a longtime friend and climbing partner of Fowler’s, helped spearhead the fund-raising efforts (via Mountainfilm) and kept a blog of the search efforts at fowlerboskoff A Better Partner I Could Not Have ImaginedBy Damon Johnson What stood out most about Charlie was that he was humble. On all those weekends in the last 10 years, Charlie and I almost never talked about his accomplishments, and there are so many things I now wish I had asked him about. He was starting to paint his life through words and images. We talked about filming a series of interviews about not only his travels and adventures, but about the causes that drove his moral side. This was, lately, more important than any of his physical accomplishments. Charlie was in love with the unknown. I’d arrive at his house early in the morning to pick him up for a day of exploring new routes, and every surface would be laden with open books, magazine articles, journals, and in more recent times — the Net — multiple screens of information all going at once. He’d scour them looking for where that “line” was between the known and the unknown. And you could bet that the purpose of his next trip would be to cross that line and document both the mountains and the cultures he encountered along the way. Standing there, with his self-repaired reading glasses on, Charlie would dive into a story that would occupy us for the hour-plus drive into the desert. One of Charlie’s goals was to bear witness. His interest in photography was obvious — I can count the times on one hand that Charlie didn’t bring a camera. He took thousands and thousands and thousands of non-digital photos. He experimented with Polaroid transfers. One of his favorite things to shoot was the annual Norwood Rodeo a few minutes walk from his front door. “The more the merrier,” he would say whenever someone wanted to go climbing — and he meant it. Experienced or not, he was always at the ready to share a day of climbing. Charlie was so happy to be out in the world with friends, but at the same time, he would, without hesitation, give up a day of climbing to help a friend collect firewood for the winter. I will miss the “Yeehaw!” that escaped from him every time we reached the base of a wall with our heavy packs, shirts drenched. I will miss the pure-thrill of “giggling” at an unexplored cliff — nervous acknowledgment that we were looking at first ascents. I will miss this climber, photographer, world traveler, writer, filmmaker, actor, artist, historian, teacher, student, and friend so very much. Charlie: You will be with me every time I head into the “wild, wild west.” A better partner I could not have imagined.
The Telluride climber Damon Johnson, a longtime friend and climbing partner of Fowler’s, helped spearhead the fund-raising efforts (via Mountainfilm) and kept a blog of the search efforts at fowlerboskoff A Better Partner I Could Not Have ImaginedBy Damon Johnson What stood out most about Charlie was that he was humble. On all those weekends in the last 10 years, Charlie and I almost never talked about his accomplishments, and there are so many things I now wish I had asked him about. He was starting to paint his life through words and images. We talked about filming a series of interviews about not only his travels and adventures, but about the causes that drove his moral side. This was, lately, more important than any of his physical accomplishments. Charlie was in love with the unknown. I’d arrive at his house early in the morning to pick him up for a day of exploring new routes, and every surface would be laden with open books, magazine articles, journals, and in more recent times — the Net — multiple screens of information all going at once. He’d scour them looking for where that “line” was between the known and the unknown. And you could bet that the purpose of his next trip would be to cross that line and document both the mountains and the cultures he encountered along the way. Standing there, with his self-repaired reading glasses on, Charlie would dive into a story that would occupy us for the hour-plus drive into the desert. One of Charlie’s goals was to bear witness. His interest in photography was obvious — I can count the times on one hand that Charlie didn’t bring a camera. He took thousands and thousands and thousands of non-digital photos. He experimented with Polaroid transfers. One of his favorite things to shoot was the annual Norwood Rodeo a few minutes walk from his front door. “The more the merrier,” he would say whenever someone wanted to go climbing — and he meant it. Experienced or not, he was always at the ready to share a day of climbing. Charlie was so happy to be out in the world with friends, but at the same time, he would, without hesitation, give up a day of climbing to help a friend collect firewood for the winter. I will miss the “Yeehaw!” that escaped from him every time we reached the base of a wall with our heavy packs, shirts drenched. I will miss the pure-thrill of “giggling” at an unexplored cliff — nervous acknowledgment that we were looking at first ascents. I will miss this climber, photographer, world traveler, writer, filmmaker, actor, artist, historian, teacher, student, and friend so very much. Charlie: You will be with me every time I head into the “wild, wild west.” A better partner I could not have imagined.
The Telluride climber Damon Johnson, a longtime friend and climbing partner of Fowler’s, helped spearhead the fund-raising efforts (via Mountainfilm) and kept a blog of the search efforts at fowlerboskoff A Better Partner I Could Not Have ImaginedBy Damon Johnson What stood out most about Charlie was that he was humble. On all those weekends in the last 10 years, Charlie and I almost never talked about his accomplishments, and there are so many things I now wish I had asked him about. He was starting to paint his life through words and images. We talked about filming a series of interviews about not only his travels and adventures, but about the causes that drove his moral side. This was, lately, more important than any of his physical accomplishments. Charlie was in love with the unknown. I’d arrive at his house early in the morning to pick him up for a day of exploring new routes, and every surface would be laden with open books, magazine articles, journals, and in more recent times — the Net — multiple screens of information all going at once. He’d scour them looking for where that “line” was between the known and the unknown. And you could bet that the purpose of his next trip would be to cross that line and document both the mountains and the cultures he encountered along the way. Standing there, with his self-repaired reading glasses on, Charlie would dive into a story that would occupy us for the hour-plus drive into the desert. One of Charlie’s goals was to bear witness. His interest in photography was obvious — I can count the times on one hand that Charlie didn’t bring a camera. He took thousands and thousands and thousands of non-digital photos. He experimented with Polaroid transfers. One of his favorite things to shoot was the annual Norwood Rodeo a few minutes walk from his front door. “The more the merrier,” he would say whenever someone wanted to go climbing — and he meant it. Experienced or not, he was always at the ready to share a day of climbing. Charlie was so happy to be out in the world with friends, but at the same time, he would, without hesitation, give up a day of climbing to help a friend collect firewood for the winter. I will miss the “Yeehaw!” that escaped from him every time we reached the base of a wall with our heavy packs, shirts drenched. I will miss the pure-thrill of “giggling” at an unexplored cliff — nervous acknowledgment that we were looking at first ascents. I will miss this climber, photographer, world traveler, writer, filmmaker, actor, artist, historian, teacher, student, and friend so very much. Charlie: You will be with me every time I head into the “wild, wild west.” A better partner I could not have imagined.
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