A Tribute to Ted Wilson
Ted Wilson passed away on April 11, 2024, leaving a remarkable legacy in our community.
A public memorial to honor Ted will be held on May 17th at 10 AM, at the Rice-Eccles Stadium Tower at the University of Utah 451 S. 1400 East. Furthermore, on the same date, Salt Lake City will pay special tribute to Mayor Ted Wilson’s service. In recognition of his tenure as the 30th mayor, the clock tower bells at the City and County Building will chime 30 times.
Tributes to Ted Wilson
Ted’s daughter, Jenny, recently released a link to THE GRAND RESCUE at no cost as a tribute to her dad.
Help us to celebrate Ted’s incredible life! If you have stories of him that you would like to share or photos, please send them to Communications@SaltLakeClimbers.org. We will send them to Ted's family and share them with the climbing community below.
By George Lowe
April 21, 2024
Ted dramatically affected my formative years as a climber. As I recall, his stories of his time in Leysin, Switzerland influenced Court Richards and me to visit Leysin and Chamonix during the summer of 1965 where my alpine climbing career began. In 1969 I was a climbing ranger in the Tetons with Ted, and other Alpenbock members Bob Irvine, Rick Reese, and Ralph Tingey. Unfortunately my memory is fading about routes that I did with Ted in the Tetons in 1969, but I vaguely remember doing the fairly difficult North West Chimney of the Grand Teton with Ted that summer. Ted was a superb climbing companion due to both his optimistic personality and climbing skills.
By Julia Geisler
April 15, 2024
I never had the opportunity to rope up with Ted Wilson, but I still considered him a climbing partner and dear friend. It can suck having old friends. You witness the tough reality of physical and mental decline, but it was an honor to be welcomed to be by his side during his vulnerability of aging. He taught me how to send it to the final summit of life with a twinkle in his eye, grace, and good humor. He would brag that he had the best balance climbing than any of his friends. As Parkinson's disease challenged that, he would joke about his climbing now being summiting staircases, his trekking poles clicking along the way.
Like the treasured climbing partner who will drop anything for an adventure, Ted was game to attend any climbing outing I invited him to, usually at the last minute, and always looked dapper. I wouldn’t have to worry about him at the climbing fundraisers or festivals as he knew absolutely everyone and if he didn’t, he made a quick friend, always truly interested in other people. Even though he no longer climbed rocks in his 80s (to my knowledge), he remained a climber and active member of the community in his final decade. He taught me that the times spent climbing and those you spend it with are some of the best times of life and dearest friendships one can have. He grieved his climbing partner Rick Reese with open honesty and taught me that that’s ok. He gifted me his Alpenbock Club patch with a box of chocolates and a song and I’ve never received a greater tribute to being a climber.
My second to last lunch with Ted and his daughter Jenny Wilson was spent talking about how to rescue Little Cottonwood from the destruction of the UDOT gondola proposal. We were, and still are, working on a short documentary film called Alpenbock that will celebrate our climbing legacy in Big and Little Cottonwood Canyons, and the enduring spirit of the Alpenbock Club amid contemporary preservation challenges. He mentored me on navigating divisive issues like the gondola with mutual respect, while keeping principles. He never missed an opportunity to share his love and advocate for the canyons and his unabashed encouragement and complementary nature to others efforts made others stand up for environmental causes. We would not have legitimate access to the 140 acres of the LDS Church’s private property at the Gate Buttress if Ted hadn’t helped us negotiate the lease for the Salt Lake Climbers Alliance with the presiding bishopric - reminiscing about the time when he called upon members of the Church to help save Salt Lake from the floods of ‘83 - sandbagging the streets in their Sunday church clothes. He shared stories of advocacy efforts even before 2017 to keep the Church from fencing off the Gate Buttress and his efforts to stop development on the northside property at the mouth of LCC.
He was an advocate and steward, the greatest crag citizen of the Wasatch - may his legacy and enduring spirit live on amongst our collective psych and passion for the mountains. He never let me leave without walking me to his door with a hug. He never let me leave without saying I love you.
The SLCA is accepting donations for the Alpenbock film here. There will be more to come about the film in the coming weeks.
By Andrew Brodhead
April 16, 2024
My first interaction with Ted Wilson was not in person but with personal property. I was handed his old rack of pitons after they were donated to the SLCA. I safely guarded these historic relics before they were donated to the Marriott Library. Like anyone's climbing rack, these told a story, a special story. I needed to understand its unique story. I also wanted to know what in the hell this weird, long, ringed aluminum piton was…I needed answers.
I finally met Ted at the annual SLCA fundraiser. I happened to have his rack on display for bystanders to check out. When I saw Ted in the crowd, I grabbed the rack and ran over. I had so many questions. Julia Geisler made the formal introduction. I quickly produced the rack and Ted's face lit up. It was as if two old friends were reuniting. You know when someone is handy by how they hold a hammer. It was obvious that Ted understood this craft and his way around his old rack.
I quickly asked what that aluminum piton was. With a cheeky smile, he said it was his lone ice piton that he and Rick Reese used on the 1962 first ascent of the Great White Icicle in Little Cottonwood Canyon. He continued to explain that since this was the only one he had, they were forced to bash pitons into the wall for the majority of the route. “We had really bad rope drag,” he said as he laughed.
I had the pleasure of running into Ted a few more times since that first meeting: an afternoon beer on his couch, breakfast at Shannon’s Cafe, and what might have been his last climbing interview for the short documentary film the SLCA is making called Alpenbock. During that interview, I saw a man open up about his vulnerabilities. Like unzipping a suitcase, I saw what Ted was carrying: his love of family, community, service, and climbing. His heartache over Rick Reese and the frustrations of not being able to climb. I only got to know a slice of Ted from afar.
It's interesting that once someone passes, the stories come out. You almost get to know them better than before. I was unaware of his involvement in the 2017 Gate Buttress lease and preserving a portion of Little Cottonwood Canyon from private development. The landscapes I take for granted can be traced back to Ted. He was a living reminder that we all can give 100% to living a life as climbers and still give 100% to community and conservation. These two are not mutually exclusive but inclusive and can be done. Thank you for making me realize that, Ted!
Help us to celebrate Ted’s incredible life! If you have stories of him that you would like to share or photos, please send them to Communications@SaltLakeClimbers.org. We will send them to Ted's family and share them with the climbing community below.
