Some people have said my dad was an enigma, unusual or hard to get to know.

Once I was old enough to get over the teenage embarrassment, I could enjoy his quirky side a lot more and I think I got to know him much better as an adult. <Something about calling me Rosa?>

It was true that he could be a stubborn old goat at times – but I don’t think I’m in any position to criticise that personality trait!

In fact some of the things about him that could make him super infuriating unfortunately or fortunately (depending on your point of view) probably show up in me … I don’t have quite the same level of obsession with Roman roads, but give me time, as I’ve still visited my fair share of hill forts and made my friends investigate many vague grassy lumps in the ground!

The ability to research every detail of an outing, and for that to be half the fun is certainly something that we had in common, and has led me to success in many a racing adventure. I don’t think we went anywhere without the routes being carefully planned, mapped and presented with full grid references. If you agreed to go for a “little walk”, you could probably plan for 3 hours, and for it to be overambitious for at least some of the party (including dad himself, on occasion). If you want to know whether these facets show up in his daughter, just ask Andy later…

Dad had a tendency to take risks that others would not countenance and steadfastly hold to any plan. I know this could be a source of frustration for my mum when we were little. However, it would make me laugh in later years when he’d fret about me doing the exact same thing as I set off for hours into the mountains in all weathers.

There are two trips up Elidir, the mountain behind his house, that I will never forget. The first as a child, when we aimed for the nearest patch of snow, continued upwards and ended up summiting in a raging storm, with winds so strong it was lifting us off our feet. I distinctly remember how cold my fingers were, stumbling to keep up, and my dad’s vagueness on where we were and if we were going exactly the right way. We eventually made it back to the road and home safely, where my mum and brother were waiting with hot water bottles, poised to call mountain rescue. I know they were seriously worried and with good reason, but my abiding memories were of adventure and excitement.

Then last year, in my dad’s determined efforts to get fit enough to climb Snowdon, he proposed another ascent. After checking his training regimen had been suitable, Andy and I agreed to the trip. We made it to the top of Elidir Fach and the weather was fine, if a little chilly on top. He nearly toppled off a couple of times, but didn’t. After some argument about the route down … (sound familiar?) everyone acquiesced to my assessment, but we had to climb over a barbed wire fence, which caused much hilarity when dad got stuck and we had to haul his legs over for him.

His most recent OSMaps activity shows that he was plotting out every variation of an ascent of Yr Wyddfa (Snowdon) as he longed to do this with Ethan & Elliot. It didn’t happen in the end, but it was very in character to have spent so much time focussing on the planning.

When I was young, he was not that involved in the things I was doing. But I’ve realised on reflection that he did a lot more when I was an adult – for example, lifts to races around North Wales, picking me up and facilitating adventures. I guess this was because it was activity he was more interested in, and so many of the photos we found were of him climbing in the mountains with various young people.

We’ve also got a picture of him coming to meet me on one occasion as ‘he wasn’t sure “what state I’d be in”‘ . Another time I remember I had one dark and foggy ascent of Snowdon to do to finish the day. After failing to dissuade me from this venture, I was given an apple to get me over. I’m surprised it wasn’t dried apricots.

One thing that was clear from his local friends was that he was proud of what I did and had achieved, even if he didn’t tell me directly.

Another thing that shone through in my chats with the neighbours, was that he was also a very much loved fixture in the centre of the community and he has left a bit of a hole. People talked about how he walked around with his hands behind his back, always wearing his bobble hat. He’d check in on the news, chat about local history and take direct action to clear up litter in the quarries. I know he also had his set routines, favourite cafes and traditions we’d follow on any visit.

The bobble hat was definitely the defining feature of his fashion style and it’s evident from the pictures that this has been a very long tradition. When I took his hat into the hospital, his eyes lit up, even though he wasn’t allowed to put it on due to his fever.

Aside from time outside, on a holiday to my dad’s, you could expect every train trip you made to be tracked online, an expansion of your vocabulary (memorable examples being obstreperous, post prandial perambulations and Sisyphean tasks), some truly terrible parking manoeuvres, an offer of some port or sherry and at least two jobs with your name on that involved climbing ladders and / or going onto the roof. There’s definitely a photo showing how he got the training in for me early on that skill.

When I searched my Facebook profile for the term ‘dad’ looking for photos – I found several amusing anecdotes and quotes that I had forgotten about and I will close with a few of these:

Quote: “Did you know that a volunteer conductor on the North Yorkshire Moors steam railway walks about 6 miles up and down the train in one shift?” (I’m sure we’ve got Alan to thank for that one)

On showing him a plot on my sports watch: “My dad knew where we’d been just from this elevation profile!”

“You know something ‘interesting’ is coming up when dad says ‘oh, and there is just one more job I haven’t mentioned yet’ …” (let’s just not mention the plumbing he tried to make me do last Christmas)

When he’d bought a cleaning mop: “Can’t believe my dad has just made me watch an unboxing video of the ‘Vileda 1-2 Spray’ in Italian so that I can translate how to put it together for him”

“I thought I heard my dad doing plumbing again this morning before I got up. Turns out he was just opening a Marmite jar with a mole wrench.”

Another Exchange: “Me: “Dad, what are you going to do all winter?” Dad: “Maybe I will write down things about packhorse trails and details of where all the drains round the house are””

“Being shown details of tonight’s train to and from North Pole International on a realtime trains website. Must be at my dad’s!”

And there I will close – hopefully you will all have more of your own stories to share over drinks and snacks.

<hand back over to Alan>