A Tribute To My Friend, Edward "Lalo"
Romero
by Joe "Chango" Rael
I
met Edward in the spring of 2001, I was a rookie in the
climbing school when I dared myself to climb with the
"veterans" on a Tuesday evening. I was looking for a
route to set an anchor when I came across Edward. We
introduced ourselves and after explaining who I was and what
I was doing, he immediately offered to climb with me.
Thus began the adventure!
It wasn't many outings later
when he started calling me "Chango", in apparent reference
to my climbing technique (or complete lack thereof).
The next several years were filled with climbing trips all
over New Mexico, Arizona, Colorado, and our greatest
adventure, a week in El Potrero Chico in Mexico with our
best friend, Matthias Graf.
Lalo and I also shared a love
for snowboarding (steep and deep!), music (Ozomatli!), good
beer, and life itself. Often he told me he was the
luckiest man in the world, a beautiful, understanding wife,
two wonderful children and a great family. Indeed, he
was truly blessed! He was a man with many talents,
gifts and abilities. As great a rock climber as he
was, he was an even greater person. His smile and
winning attitude enabled him to easily make friends, and his
quiet confidence was apparent in everything he did.
Though our lives intertwined
for only a few short years, they produced literally
thousands and thousands of memories. I am a better
person for having known Edward and he will always be in my
heart and soul.
Photos
courtesy of Joe "Chango" Rael.
Too Brief, yet an Unforgettable Friendship
by Tony Stout
Edward and I met just a short
time ago. In fact, it was even less than one year ago,
November 2006. His name was on an Albuquerque climbing
list and I was organizing a trip to Paradise Forks, home of
beautiful basalt cracks. I was contacted soon after I
sent that email signed by someone named "Lalo".
I picked up the telephone and
called him at work, "is this LAYlo?" (I had no idea how that
might be pronounced). A warm chuckle, "this is Lalo".
We set a plan, and met at my place that Friday. I
liked him as soon as I shook his hand.
Of
course, the climbing over that weekend was great. We
only climbed a few routes together but he always gave it his
all, wanting to push himself to see just what he was really
capable of. After a few warm-ups Edward decided he
wanted to try Goldfinger, a classic 5.11, on top rope.
After much, much grunting, he finally pulled himself over
the top of the rim. That climb obviously did not go so
well for him but by the end of the weekend he was ready to
get on lead for a stellar 5.10, East of Eden. He on
sited it!
One evening Edward concocted
some crazy Gumbo dish that myself, Edward, and Tanya enjoyed
over campfire conversations and brews. Many of the
details of these conversations elude me but I do remember
our talks about his family and how much he enjoyed his two
children Diego and Alexandria, and his wife Socorro.
He gave it his best to try to convince me of how great kinds
were in an attempt to convince me that Brie-Anne and I
needed our own (I told him that I needed to climb 5.13
before I could be distracted by little creatures).
Other topics included politics, and past climbing trips to
Yosemite, Cochise, and the Wind Rivers.
Following that trip we shared
a great weekend playing in the snow. Of course, there
was that continuous debate over the best style to descend
steep white powder (we had an immaculate day at Wolf
Creek!). His vote was dragging his knuckles on a
snowboard. As he watched us struggle with two poles
and two skis as we walked from the car to the resort, he
commented that he liked having just one piece of equipment.
He was truly graceful as he weaved between trees through the
powder. I on the other hand, preferred two planks and
staying upright (he referred to snowboarders as "knuckle
draggers" and skiers as "two plankers").
Edward, myself, and four
other friends were planning on going to Yosemite the first
week of September. It’s a hard blow knowing that he
will not be joining us. When I learned of his passing
the thoughts of disbelief wrecked me. It just did not
add up. He had spent full days skiing, climbing rocks,
ascending peaks, often pushing himself to the brink.
How does this happen? I realize that these questions
are futile because even if there were good answers, it would
not bring our friend back.
Edward’s life touched me in
just the short period of time that I knew him. He was
one of those guys that truly embodied the "live life like
today is your last day" mantra. It is admirable. His
positive attitude was contagious and the way he spoke of his
family was awesome. His life was a blessing to all who
knew him, and I am thankful that our paths met, however
brief. He will truly be missed.
Photos
courtesy of Steve Doorn.
Pulled into Orbit –
Remembering Edward Romero
by Alexander Nees
I didn’t know Edward for very
long. We met a few months before his death, introduced
to each other by Tony Stout, a mutual climbing friend.
A group of us New Mexican climbers were planning a trip to
Tuolumne Meadows in Yosemite National Park, and Edward and I
were both looking for partners. We got together a few
times in the following months, quickly getting to know each
other as climbers and friends. We began by climbing in
the gym, then moved outside one day in June to climb some
moderate trad lines in the Sandias. Pulling on plastic
had been fun, but out on the rock we immediately had that
intuitive connection common to all good rope teams.
Edward was excellent on the rock: smooth, confident, and
precise. I had strength born of too much time spent in
the gym, but Edward had a wealth of experience and a poise
that I could only watch and admire. Climbing can so
easily become caught up in ego and expectations, with each
partner struggling to live up to some sort of lofty
standard. Edward wasn’t about that at all. He
just loved to climb, and reminded me of the core reasons why
I loved climbing too. It was easily one of the most
purely enjoyable days of climbing I’ve ever had.
On the drive down from the
Sandia Crest back to Albuquerque that afternoon, we filled
the car with stories, speaking excitedly of climbs we had
done and climbs that we might do together in the future.
As I left Edward’s house that night, having finally torn
myself away from the warmth and hospitality of his family,
we were still talking about the possibilities for our new
partnership.
Summer is the busiest time of
year for me in my work, but I had had such a good time with
Edward in the Sandias that I managed to carve out another
day to come into the city and climb with him. We were
already setting our sights higher: this time we were eyeing
the Southwest Ridge of the Needle, a moderate climb but
probably the longest route in the Sandias. We chose
the 24th of July to climb, and a week or so beforehand
Edward called me up to tell me that he had already scouted
the approach! He spoke with glee about the 2 hours of
hard bushwhacking that lay between us and our objective.
A few days before our climb, I was shocked to learn that on
July 24th I would be coming into Albuquerque not to climb
the Needle with Edward, but to attend his funeral.
I didn’t know Edward for
long, but his sudden death has been deeply upsetting to me.
I knew him just long enough and well enough to understand
how much we have all lost. I am so sad to have lost a
friend, but very grateful that I was given even a few days
to spend with Edward. Upon meeting Edward and his
family, I felt an immediate connection of a kind that I’ve
only rarely experienced before. But reading others’
stories and talking to his friends, I realize that many
people have had similar experiences with Edward, that many
of us have been pulled into orbit around the basic kindness
and decency that defined and suffused him. If nothing
else, I can only hope that this tragedy helps us to find
each other. Ed would have liked that, I think.
Photos
courtesy of Alexander Nees.
