PAT CALLIS

On “The Sceptre” in Hyalite Canyon, photo ©Blair Speed

By Blair Speed

I am fortunate to call Pat Callis my climbing partner. My Friend. 

How is that even possible?

I don’t like telling people what to do but if you’re a climber and you haven’t heard of Pat Callis, you should do some research. You should do a deep dive. You should listen to this podcast. It is our responsibility to learn the history of our passions. 

If you’re a climber and you haven’t heard of me, Blair Speed, well, that sounds about right. 

I met Pat 13 years ago when I met my husband, Travis Swanson. Pat introduced Trav to Gallatin Country Search and Rescue when he was 18 years old. Trav joined and he found his life’s purpose: to help and save others. Thank you, Pat. 

When I met Pat I was so shy, I hadn’t found my voice or my home in climbing yet. Heights scared me, I was awkward, and I attempted invisibility at all moments in the climbing community: “Please look anywhere else but at me.”

My first climbing friend was Justin Griffin. He was kind and strong, fast and agile, funny and open. He called me, “Blair” instead of “Trav’s girlfriend.” He would come sit with me at the climbing gym and talk running, a sport I felt much more comfortable in. He was aware of others. He was exceptional at his sport(s). He climbed with Kyle Dempster and Hayden Kennedy and folks you haven’t heard of, me, Trav, his stunning wife, Fats. 

I looked up to him. Of course, he inspired me. All those who are bold enough to taste the zest of life do. 

Justin died on Tawoche in Nepal in 2015. He was here. And, then he was gone. I missed my bold and beautiful friend. I cried. Trav cried. I felt his family’s pain. I felt our community’s pain.

Bozeman is a special community because we honor the deep connection of the unique spirits drawn here. We feel the tremendous waves of loss when one of our special spirits crosses the line of death unexpectedly. Alex Lowe’s life and also his death greatly shaped the heart of this magical place. It still does. 

We are a people drawn to the mountains. We are a people that struggle and celebrate and come together and mourn and mourn and mourn the ones we lose to those same mountains. 

Alex. Justin. Inge. Trav. 

They build our community in their lives and also in their deaths as we attempt to navigate tremendous loss. After loss. After loss. 

When Justin died I realized that if I continued down the path of shyness and invisibility I would miss out on exceptional people. I would miss out on being moved by the incredible hearts and souls here. Whereas if I spoke up and said, “Hi,” I could have a chance to meet, to witness, to run beside, climb with these folks. I don’t want to miss out on bold and beautiful people here. And yes, by here I mean Bozeman, and I also mean here, Anywhere. 

A couple days after Justin died, Trav and I decided to go to the climbing gym. We ran into Pat immediately and I reintroduced myself, Pat and I climbed together for about 3 hours that night. I Velcroed onto him. He seemed to never fatigue. He was 76 years old then and I was 29. I just tried to keep up. Conversation was rich and we made each other laugh. Hi, Friend.

That winter Pat, Trav, and I climbed nearly every weekend up in Hyalite. More often than not Pat was our rope gun. Alpha and Omega. The Good Looking One. The Thrill is Gone. All the classics. We all got stronger together. And, every weekend Trav and I got to hear stories of climbing history. Mt Robson. Yosemite. Zion. Using lag screws instead of ice screws because they were more affordable. The 5.11 Pat climbed in the rain after a couple of beers. The Experiment.

Years later Pat would describe that ice climbing season as his best season in years. We had fun and we were consistent. And more than that, he opened up and said he felt needed. And, being needed made him try more.

We are certainly all connected. We certainly all impact one another. You are needed, Friend.

In the Summer, Pat and I run Baldy in Bozeman together, The Altar. We talk enzymes as Pat is a Chemistry professor at Montana State University. He is the longest running professor at the college and his heart and mind are still made of deep curiosity and inquisitiveness. Even with all of his experience Pat still likes to ask questions. 

He knows to grab my attention; he need only mention dark matter or energy or some other universe mystery and I am all ears. Pat might have built an entire career through the gift of curiosity and science but I was awarded the Buchanan Middle School 8th Grade Science Student of the Year Award, so I understand at least .05% of what we discuss. 

I cherish these discussions. Pat’s wonder and amazement of the world are contagious. We’ll be running up the trail giggling about bacteria or John Dalton or the great universe of micro and macro. Pat is one of my favorite adventure companions. We share and move in the mountains together.

Of course, Trav was my favorite mountain partner. Trav and I moved together so seamlessly. We shared a metronome of pace, we shared an abundance in strength, we communicated with heart. Running and climbing mountains with Trav not only created my life but it created me. I did more alongside of him than I had ever dreamed possible. And we did it through love not to tick things off a list. 

Ten physical years after I started loving Trav and creating a life and one another together, I received a call that he had died in the mountains. My love. My sternum split open and I felt my soul in the physical world for the first time. I felt my soul slip without hesitation out of my body and go run to be with Trav in Paradise Valley. Goodbye, Soul. 

I felt all the particles and molecules of what I thought I knew about life and love spill out behind my soul, onto my concrete floor. Onto my stairs. I knew nothing. And, I knew, nothing would keep my soul from going to be with Trav. Thank you, Soul.

I felt a universe of nothing Big Bang at my hearts’s center and spread throughout my body. My Soul Pod. How do you navigate obliteration? Pat, what did we say about dark matter and energy and how does this all work? And is the universe really just inside of me? I feel its death and creation all at once. Big Bang. 

—————

Pat is tall and lean and sinewy. His shoulders curve forward from a lifetime of climbing. He is built to climb and to hold a lot against his heart. I swear each of his arms are six feet long. Pat, as well as the rest of the SAR Team, came to the house the day Trav died. And although I always appreciated Pat’s long limbs while climbing, I realized after Trav died that they hold the ability to reach out and hold up. Pat, Catsby (my 21 year-old cat), and I sat on my sofa navigating obliteration together. 

Pat said losing Trav felt like losing one of his own children.

Losing Trav felt like losing my entire universe. 

I asked Pat to walk me onto stage to say what I needed to say at Trav’s memorial. 

You are needed, Pat. 

I need you. 

What happens after the Big Bang Pat? Years ago, in an attempt to explain how such massive S P A C E was immediately created, one theory proposed that atoms or particles or molecules expanded to the size of planets in the first micro seconds after that cataclysmic event. That sounds about right to me in my own personal experience. My heart expanded. My soul. My eyes. My everything. In an instant. 

I tucked away after Trav died. I needed to mourn him, I needed to mourn the part of me that left with him, I needed to learn our new shared language, I needed to learn this new me. What did we say about death and creation happening all at once? Fucking universe. Internal and external. Which is just another internal. 

I needed to work. The Bozeman Ice Fest hired me that first winter after Trav died to photograph various events. They knew I had a great affection for training and invited me to sit in on Will Gadd’s training seminar that weekend as a thank you for documenting. Ever curious, I attended. 

We all have different drives. My drive for climbing is to listen to the heartbeat of the mountain and to try to sync my own heart with the mountain. It’s better, I am better, if I can sync with a person I love. This is my drive in the mountains. I am not saying it is better than, I am saying it is mine. I love climbing more when I share it with someone I love.

At the end of the seminar there was a rapid fire discussion. Will said he’d tell us how we could each be a better climber in one sentence. He told me, “to stop climbing with old dudes.” 

And, of course, I would completely understand that logic if I had a different drive. But, I don’t. I have my heart. And I am still not saying it’s better or worse, I am saying it is mine. And I know my heart. I know my drive. I try to listen.

Where would I be without my friend? You are needed. I need you, Pat. You are my climbing partner. Where do you want to climb together?

——————

We are certainly all connected. Will delivered advice according to his own drive. I understand that, he didn’t need to know me. He wasn’t expected to understand each person’s unique heart or their drive at a small seminar. He shared his own perspective. I listened but I didn’t heed. I actually ran further into my own heart's drive. 

To share life and love and the mountains with folks I love. And, I happen to love old dudes.

I began dating Mark Twight a year after Will’s course. We went to Cody, WY and somehow I found myself climbing up the steepest pillar I’ve ever climbed between Mark and Scott Backes. How the fuck did I get here? We are certainly all connected. 

I tucked Mark away for a long time. I couldn’t share him. Folks who haven’t experienced their eternal love, folks that haven’t unexpectedly lost their eternal love at 33 years old just don’t know the totality of that loss — so in some seasons I protect myself from unintentionally hurtful words they might say— and I tuck away. 

We don’t know what we haven’t experienced. That’s the first thing I said to Fats when she walked through my door after Trav died, Trav and Justin together now, I told her, “I had no fucking clue.” Of course, she knew. My Friend.

I couldn’t hear folks tell me they were happy for me or not happy for me or or or or — I needed to listen my own new and old heart. When I was ready to share Mark with a part of our special community, I asked Pat if we could come over for dinner.

Long six feet arms, of course. Come over. Share a meal. Pat’s arms and heart can hold so much. Mark is who Trav looked up to. Pat our Rope Gun, one of our most cherished friends. How did we all get here?

Heart drives.

We each listened to our own hearts. Didn’t heed the advice of folks that had different drives. Sometimes we can sync those heartbeats for small and big and intimate moments of our lives. Sometimes we climb mountains together. Sometimes we lose those we can’t live without to those mountains. Sometimes our arms hold one another up.

You are needed, Friend. I need you. Pat Callis is my climbing partner. My Friend. He is a pretty old dude. And he has listened to his own heart while creating a unique and beautiful life. He has always given me the space and the arms of support and the internal and external belief of the universe that I could do the same. Big Bang. 

And, I don’t like telling people what to do but I can share stories. We are certainly all connected. I am grateful to share a few of these heart beats with my dear friend, Pat. 

Whiskey and conversation, photo ©Blair Speed