I heard today of the sad death of John Williams, Head of the Oasis Academy, Bristol.
For a few years John and I were good friends and did some mad things together, climbed mountains, drank coffee, played worship sets and exchanged music loves. Karen looked after Ella when she was little. We really missed them when they left Ludlow.
John was larger than life, infectiously optimistic, madly impulsive and like me found his peace in the mountains. We did many trips to Snowdonia, mid Wales, the Lakes and Scotland together. He was always up for a challenge and usually pushed us a little further than was comfortable. Being with John was fun and he was the sort of person who always made you feel better about being yourself.
The very first time we went out he took me up the northern shoulder of Crib Goch - between Cwm Uchaf and Cwm Beudy Mawr, climbing straight up from the road - and then up onto Snowdon. I'm sure this is not the hardest route up, but it's the hardest I've done. It was blowing a gale and I was worried that I would be blown off - I wished we had roped up. But even when things were going really badly, John constantly told you how well you were doing and somehow it got you through.
One time we set off for Snowdon on the rumour of snow and finding no snow at Shrewsbury he persuaded me to head for the lakes. When at Penrith there was no snow either, he talked me into Scotland and it was afternoon before we hit the Ben. I ended up nearly carrying him down in the dark as he'd forgotten to drink enough but he still managed to keep talking madly encouraging words all the way. We slept in the car on the way home and eventually made it for Sunday morning service!
We did Crib Goch in four feet of snow; we sat in a bivvy bag in the pissing rain on the Rhinogau - that time it was him who saved me; we did two of the Three Peaks with a load of amatuers from his school and ended up helping some footballers down Scarfell Pike at dawn: we waltzed up Siabod in the evening sun; we did every peak in the park and he even tried to talk me into Mont Blanc. We led worship together - I loved playing with someone who gave something back musically, we had many barbecues with them, drank Bud with ice in and listened to Counting Crows and Jars of Clay. Driving in the VW bus with the Porsche Boxter engine; being dismayed at another new motorbike coming home; driving miles to find the nearest Starbucks for a real coffee.
It was hard when they left Ludlow. As a fellow PK (Pastor's Kid) John understood many of my frustrations with the Church but they moved on to bigger and better things. Like typical blokes, we failed to really keep in touch once they left apart from the odd card. He lived like he knew he only had 40 years. He had a deep unshakeable faith and like me, found real spiritual peace and clarity in the hills.
The world will be a duller place without him. I will miss him.
My thoughts and prayers go out to his wife Karen, and his three children Noah, Hope and Gabriel.
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