From 1994: Remembering Steve Untch

How lucky I was when I owned my own newspaper in Running Springs that I had a wonderful friendship with outdoorsman Steve Untch. He was unique in many ways. Tall and fit, he was, among other things, an excellent mountain climber. When I say mountain climber I mean mountain climber. He climbed many of the world’s tallest, most treacherous mountains and when he returned home he wrote wonderful stories of his adventures that I happily printed.
His luck ran out and I have just come across the obituary I wrote when he died. With tears in my eyes I printed it in my August 4, 1994 issue.

Remembering Steve Untch

“After the news of Steve Untch’s death on K2, as I traveled throughout the communities on Wednesday, everyone wanted to talk. They needed to share their grief and their utter disbelief that this man, who seemed so invincible, died while saving some else and yet was unable to save himself.
One of the observations that was made by someone was that, to a certain extent, we all lived a little vicariously through Steve. Most people are concerned with being safe, with taking the safe route through life, with security. Steve was as well, but he was one of a small percentage of people who did, in some ways, what we all want to do. He was “freerer” than most of us. He was more alive. He reached out and grasped for the brass ring…..and he got it. He took incredible risks. He loved adventure and all that went with it. Danger was a constant part of his life but he accepted it, coped with it and ultimately it claimed his life.

As I was standing in the shower the other morning (where I do some of my best thinking) it occurred to me that I had never, and I mean never, seen Steve in long pants (other than an occasional pair of sweats). No matter how cold it was whenever I saw him, his tall, lanky legs were bare. He wore shorts and always, always hiking boots and socks.

Those of us who knew him were changed by his life. I never knew when he would p[op through my door, with a big grin on his face, with some wonderfully-written, descriptive story of his latest adventure. He had a talent for creative writing. Although he gave me a lot of credit for my editing skills, I didn’t have to use them very often. I rarely had to call him and say, “What in the world are you trying to say?” Trying to spell (let along pronounce) some of the regions and small towns in Ecuador, Peru or other countries was nearly impossible for me at times but as I typed his stories I became caught up in the excitement that he was trying to convey. I relish those stories and hope to re-run some of them through the next few months. Whether it concerned climbing, kayaking or descending into the earth to enter a dark, damp cave his descriptive words always leapt off the page and captured the imagination and they allowed the reader to put themselves right into the scene.
Through the years that he graced my life through this newspaper, he had written many “thanks you’s” to the community for the support he received for his big expeditions, however, the one he wrote just before he left was unlike any other. It was far more personal and I attributed that to a new sense of happiness he had in a new relationship and with life in general. His final “thank you,” entitled “The Luckiest Man in the World” was so beautiful and as a tribute to Steve I have included it in this issue. I typed and cried and typed and cried all the way through this vulnerable, prophetic letter. As I made my way through the community last week so many people commented on that last, wonderful article and how different it was from the rest. I wasn’t alone in seeing its difference.
Somehow knowing that he died doing what he so loved makes his death a little easier to bear. However, it does nothing to erase the loss that his friends feel. To know, however, that he saved a life means He gave the ultimate sacrifice: his own.
Oh how he will be missed!