The headquarters of the British Mountaineering Council were not to be found on the seventeenth floor of Dennis Gray Tower as Mike Thompson had suggested in his essay ‘Out with the Boys Again’. They were in fact a dingy set of rooms situated on the ground floor of a six-storey building belonging to Manchester University. The few windows looked out onto a car park; if you were lucky you would see the thieves trying to break into your car before they drove it off. The busy roads and characterless concrete buildings surrounding it made the location psychologically as remote from the mountains as any place on earth. Alex spent as little time in the office as he possibly could.
Alex had only been at the BMC a matter of months when we arrived in Delhi on our way to Changabang. Voytek was curious about Alex’s new job, perhaps expecting a more dynamic role from Alex in the long negotiations with the Indian authorities. Terry King and I had left first thing in the morning to work our way up through the bureaucracy to get the necessary permits. Alex meanwhile was lying on a camp bed in the sweltering midday heat, swatting mosquitoes when they disturbed his reading. Chrissie Hynde and The Pretenders were playing on his ever-present cassette player. Without sponsorship from Duracell, we would have travelled in silence.
‘So Alex, tell me, exactly what does a national officer do?’
Barely stirring on his bed, Alex pondered this question for a moment then gave Voytek one of his mischievous smiles.
‘It’s not like you see me here, Voytek. In Manchester, I have an office and a secretary, and lots of people to delegate work to. Here, everybody else is already too busy, so there is no one for me to delegate work to.’
Maria Coffey was Alex’s landlady for much of his time at the BMC. Those who know Maria’s writing may find it difficult to picture her in this role, but Alex was her lodger for nearly two years, and she had a deep influence on him during the remaining few years of his life. Her grief after her partner Joe Tasker died with Pete Boardman was beautifully expressed in her book Fragile Edge. It was Alex who introduced her to Joe.
Maria met Alex shortly after a phone call from Tim Lewis, who had taken over as editor of Mountain magazine after Ken Wilson sold the magazine. Knowing Maria had spare rooms to rent, he phoned to ask if one was free.
‘He’s a really nice guy,’ Tim told her, ‘and really sharp as well. He’s just got a job in Manchester. You’ll like him – his name is Dirty Alex.’
‘He arrived and I just thought he was great,’ Maria said years later. ‘I loved his energy, his cheekiness and all those rings of hair. So he moved into a room and immediately lived up to his name.’
Maria recalled going into his room the day after he disappeared on a trip. She wanted to tidy but described what she found as a ‘rat’s nest’. ‘I gathered up dirty clothes and thought as I went along and the pile got bigger that I might as well do a complete wash. So I pulled back the sheets to discover a half-eaten bowl of Corn Flakes in the bed completely covered in mould.’
Maria and I were drinking in a pub as she told her story. Her dark eyes shone with memories and her straight, jet-black hair shook as she laughed, recalling her days as Alex’s concierge. ‘My house became a base camp for lots of Alex’s friends. I can’t remember how many times in the morning I’d be downstairs in the kitchen when a bleary-eyed bunch of climbers appeared.’ She paused, taking a sip of wine. ‘Years later, I bumped into one of Alex’s Manchester friends, Nicky Connelly. He told me how much he enjoyed staying at Alex’s doss because he got a great free breakfast in the morning. He had totally forgotten it was me who cooked them.’
There were lots of wild parties. Maria had recently started teaching in Manchester, but she still lived a student lifestyle so Alex was hardly out of place. ‘Alex and I became true friends. I think that came from what he learned about dealing with women from his mother Jean. He had the ability to talk openly and freely with women he liked. He knew how to respect people’s ideas, if not always their sensitivities.’
Maria continued: ‘He was sweet, really, and gave me advice, almost like a brother. There were times when I really needed to talk to someone and he would draw back and really listen. And then the lawyer would come out in him. He’d ask pointed questions like: “Are you really happy with that guy?”’
The one thing that drove Maria mad was the way Alex would habitually pick an argument. When in that mood, whatever anyone said, he would take the opposite view. That was a consequence of his legal training; he was able to see all sides of a story. It gave him the ability to hold his own in any debate and was a key skill at the BMC. Alex was far from lazy during his BMC days, whatever he may have told Voytek. In fact, he was quite the opposite. He brought tremendous flair and creativity to the job at a turning point in British mountaineering when politicians were considering tampering with the basic freedoms of the sport.
Alex’s tenure began with a visit from the past. On his first day at the office, Alex’s past at Leeds University came to haunt him. Dennis Gray opened a letter from the new president of the Leeds University Climbing Club. They were applying for affiliation to the BMC.
‘Here Alex,’ he said, ‘this is clearly right up your street. Respond to this letter and welcome them into the fold.’
It was only three years since Alex’s famous treasurer’s report to the club, and only a year since Alex had been its vice-president, but a new regime was now running the club, and it was very different to the old one. The university had given club officials one last chance to put right our legacy of chaotic finances, no written records and an empty storeroom. They needed to convince the student union that LUCC was still worthy of grant support and should remain as a registered bona fide organisation supported on campus. We had gone through the same trauma every year but the new officers had clearly decided they needed a new image.
They renounced all previous anti-BMC sentiments expressed by the club in our various Leeds journals and were instead anxious to become fully paid-up affiliated members. It might have been a moment of acute embarrassment, but not for Alex. He wrote back to the new club president explaining that now Leeds University Climbing Club had taken over the BMC, he was perfectly happy to accept their cheque.
Even so, Alex took a big risk with his image when he joined the BMC. It was a risk he willingly took on, because it meant he had moved into the ranks of professional climbers. He had no plans to make the BMC a career. He knew that Boardman had left in part because of the compromises he had to make between his image as a climber and his job as an official spokesman for the sport. But it was for both men an important stepping-stone.
A spoof entry in the gear section of Climber and Rambler from March 1978 gives a flavour of the scepticism in the climbing community at Alex’s appointment. Under a photo of Alex captioned ‘joining the professionals’, the magazine satirised him thus: ‘Not the old style as recommended by the BMC, but the Pro model which comes a little dearer than before. No better on rock, but expected to continue to go well in the big hills … Could this be the start of lesser-performing imitators turning professional and hoping to reach star status?’
The quip about ‘lesser-performing imitators’ makes you wonder what you had to do not to be seen as a pretender to the alpine-style crown – and he already had star status. His job would also have little to do with climbing status. A huge expansion of the BMC’s remit was underway. With it came greater influence with both government and the climbing community. As part of the ‘Leeds Mafia’, Dennis Gray’s description of anyone associated with the Leeds University scene, Alex brought authenticity and credibility with the younger and more anarchistic side of the sport. That was no doubt a factor in Alex’s appointment.
‘Of course,’ Dennis said, ‘I knew Alex prior to his joining the BMC because of his involvement with the Leeds University scene. It is interesting how subsequently several other mountaineers from that milieu followed on in the style of alpinism pioneered by Alex and the rest of you at that time: Al Powell, Kenton Cool, Rich Cross and Jon Bracey from the present generation, are all past Leeds students.’
Peter Boardman had also brought credibility to the BMC, but was perhaps too well spoken and well connected to speak to the feisty new generation of top climbers emerging from less elevated backgrounds. Alex’s streak of punk anarchy went down well with this community. His personality and approach were a stark contrast to Boardman’s. According to Dennis, where Peter was ‘diplomatic and rarely animated unless provoked, Alex was thrusting, argumentative and had a cunning mind.’
In 1978, the BMC was not the force it is today, certainly not in terms of staff and the number of individual members. The concept of an organisation in the role of national body was still rejected by many climbers. For them, climbing was not a ‘sport’. It was an adventure and a somewhat anarchistic lifestyle. The idea of a bureaucracy to look after the interests of climbing was an oxymoron, an opinion expressed not just by individuals, but also some of the long-established clubs, including the Leeds University Climbing Club. Climbers were generally a pretty vocal lot, and at times black and white in their views. The internal politics surrounding the development of the BMC’s policies were horrendous.
At best, the BMC was seen as a necessary evil, but justification for its existence was becoming clearer among the better informed in the climbing community. It had firm supporters among some politicians in the Labour government of the time, in particular Britain’s first sports minister, Denis Howell. He was keen on governing bodies for all sports, seeing them as essential tools to manage and develop sport. The ramblers’ movement of the 1930s had left a legacy of freer access, but many crags in the 1970s were on private land, and access was limited and in some cases forbidden. So the BMC created area committees of hard-working volunteers, usually drawn from local climbing clubs, to negotiate with landowners and other agencies for improved access.
There was also a need to educate climbers in areas of environmental concern such as bird and plant conservation. A balance between the interests of climbers and other groups had to be found. Not many climbers were sensitive to these issues. Being able to argue a balanced case to the clubs was an essential part of Alex’s job. Government, both local and national, wasn’t impressed by the attitude of some climbers who would climb on a crag regardless. It would be a red rag to the Thatcher government that came in during Alex’s tenure. Compulsory rescue insurance for all climbers was another of the bullets the BMC managed to dodge over the years.
The biggest issue of Alex’s day, however, was the role of the BMC in training and education. Among cognoscenti, a fierce debate had been raging for a decade over the role of adventure in education. Most agreed it was a good thing for young people to challenge themselves in the hills, but climbers argued that it had to come from inner ‘springs of adventure’, not in formulaic school expeditions. Climbers naturally felt it was an individual choice and there were clubs to help develop adventurous young people. Most importantly, climbers learned their craft through trial and error. Only by making mistakes and having accidents were the inherent dangers realised by the individual. Ad Carter, editor of the American Alpine Journal at the time, famously reminded the American climber Jack Tackle that: ‘Good judgment is mostly a result of having survived bad judgment.’ It was all part of the essential process of learning to behave responsibly and safely. This line of thinking was promoted most effectively by Ken Wilson, but it missed the point that the opportunities to start climbing have to come from somewhere. Ironically, for Alex, that opportunity came at school.
Setting policy was ultimately the decision of the full membership of the BMC at its annual meeting. The direction of policy was steered by the professional officers. There were specialist committees, for training and access and so forth, which approved or rejected policy papers put forward by officers. The management structure was cumbersome but democratic. The membership in those days was mainly comprised of affiliated clubs represented in turn by their own elected officials. Most clubs, as you would expect, promoted their own regional and local interests. Key policy decisions could take years to agree. The clubs had to go back to their own members for agreement and this took time. The more politicised club representatives – many had strong socialist roots – played the role of trade union reps against the self-created and paid professional officers of the BMC. Very forceful and well-articulated arguments against any form of regulation of the ‘freedom of the hills’ came from many directions. Alex’s keen debating skills were essential to argue his ground for the sake of the larger good.
While the community argued with itself, a steamroller of public opinion against climbing was bearing down. The elitist and archaic practices instilled in the structure of the BMC, and the senior clubs, including the Alpine Club, were seen as out-of-date and out-of-touch. This attitude grew in the aftermath of a tragedy in the Cairngorms in 1971 when six children froze to death on a school winter excursion into the hills. ‘The tragedy should have been prevented,’ howled the press. Everyone agreed. Climbers argued that the children were put at risk because educationalists tried to put adventure on the school agenda when it was not for everyone. It was they, not the BMC, that controlled the Mountain Leader Training Board.
The debate went on for years and was often reduced to farce. One member of the House of Lords argued that, ‘only a handful of climbers such as Chris Bonington could survive a night camped out in the Scottish mountains.’ Articles appeared demanding that the hills be closed in winter. The same issues are played out today, but a stronger BMC is in place. Then, as now, the tabloid press attacks any activity they cannot fathom by trying to appeal to ‘conventional wisdom’; something the press usually creates for its own purposes. This is usually along the lines that nothing can be gained putting people at risk, and the personal choice to do so is socially abhorrent, and in turn puts others at risk.
Adverse press surrounding the Cairngorm tragedy meant the public not only blamed the teachers, but also blamed climbers for wanting to climb. The government responded to that public concern by pushing for the introduction of qualifications for teachers taking children into the hills. Leading lights in the BMC – the president, the management committee and senior officers – sensed the winds of change blowing through Whitehall and found themselves in a dilemma. They knew that the values of mainstream sport and education were very different from those of mountaineers and adventure climbers. Yet if the BMC was not in a position to represent climbing at the legislative table of government, then things could be taken from their hands. That could result in access to the hills being blocked, mandatory insurance and certification for all climbers. The BMC’s role was, therefore, to fight the climber’s corner whilst not being seen as either extremist or elitist.
When Alex arrived at the BMC, arguments about the value of any qualification were raging, filling climbing magazines. A ‘diploma mentality’ was seen as undermining adventure. For anyone brought up after the debate, it will be difficult to see what the fuss was about.[1] ‘It was the biggest dispute in the history of British climbing,’ Dennis Gray said. ‘The Cairngorm tragedy convinced a lot of mountaineers that there had to be more involvement in and moderation of mountain training activities by the mainstream of the sport.’
The BMC set up a specialist group, chaired by Lord John Hunt with Gray as secretary, to do a review and make recommendations. ‘In retrospect we were a little naive; there is nothing like meddling with other people’s livelihoods and standing to provoke confrontation.’ If Hunt was a formidable supporter, Sir Jack Longland led those against his report’s conclusion and, in Gray’s words, ‘put up a hell of a fight.’ Longland faced a vote of no confidence as chair of the MLTB and the BMC lost some of its funding from the Sports Council, which threatened it with bankruptcy. ‘Shortly after this the Alpine Club came up with the offer of arbitration, which both sides swiftly accepted.’
Alex was quick to grasp not only all the issues, but also the imperative to play politics and yet remain diplomatic. He was asked to write the case in support of the BMC for an arbitration panel called the Mountain Training Tribunal. In the end, the tribunal recommended that the two boards – the one run by the educationalists and the one by the BMC – combine. The BMC would develop its own policy for all mountain training, with professionals like wardens of mountain centres continuing to play a major role.
It was all new and exciting work for Alex. He had the chance to use his skills as a law graduate to deal with the politics and develop policy, and draw on his credibility as a climber to cope with rumbling discontent at creeping bureaucracy among the mass of climbers who in Alex’s opinion: ‘Rightly couldn’t give a toss in the short term, but it would be bad for the long term if we lost.’
Alex was a fierce fighter when it came to a debate. He believed the role of the BMC was essential for the survival of climbing in the face of attempts to regulate ‘safety’ into every activity. He would regularly go home to visit his mother Jean and update her on his role. Jean was extremely proud that Alex was making an impact and clearly enjoying his work. He also kept in close touch with his younger sister, Libby, who inherited all of Jean’s intelligence and resilience, as well as sharing Alex’s determination.[2]
Alex generally liked challenging and intelligent women and extended the love and respect he had for his mother to other women he counted as friends, including Maria Coffey and Rita Hallam at the BMC. He had immense respect for Rita, who was a powerful force in the running of the BMC. With her organisational skills and common sense, Rita reminded Alex of his mother; he would delegate work to Rita to carve out more time to go climbing.
Alex’s relationship with Maria Coffey was a completely different matter. As they got to know each other, they began to share mutual friends in the climbing scene. On one occasion, when Maria’s then boyfriend had gone to work abroad for a while, Alex decided Maria had been alone long enough and needed to be set up with someone so he phoned up his friend Choe Brooks and told him to come round.
‘Alex was really matter of fact about it when Choe arrived, sort of “here you go, meet Colin, that’s all sorted then.” He was so pragmatic about relationships, at least with me.’ Maria felt this was an important part of Alex’s character. If he detected someone was unhappy, his caring side emerged and he tried to put it right. When Maria was going through a particularly bad time running several affairs at the same time, Alex decided this was not right.
He told her: ‘Dump them all and meet someone else.’ He had Joe Tasker in mind, and so he drove Maria up to Wales one weekend to a party at Al Harris’s knowing Joe would be there. ‘When Joe and I did get together,’ Maria said, ‘Alex was as direct as usual. He said: “You realise there is a one in ten chance that Joe will die every time he goes on an expedition, which means the longer you stay with him, the greater the chance that he’s going to die.” It really made me think because I had never had a serious Himalayan climber as a boyfriend. I began to ask others, like Gwyneth, how they coped when their partners were away.’
Maria’s first experience of the uncertainty and insecurity of the woman left behind came when Joe went to Kangchenjunga in 1979. Alex was in the process of breaking up with Gwyneth. Maria recalls that one night he made a drunken attempt to start a relationship, but on his terms and only for a short time, suggesting they share some time together while Joe was away.
Maria recalled: ‘Alex said well, your bloke is away, and I don’t have a girlfriend, so why don’t we get together and you can use my car. It’s better than yours. That’s exactly what he said. I was sitting at the table and couldn’t stop howling with laughter.’
She told Alex that she really didn’t think so, especially now that she was with Joe. When Joe returned from Kangchenjunga, Maria recalled that she was driving him back up to Manchester and ‘just yakking’ about all the news and mentioned Alex’s approach, thinking it would be something else to make him laugh. But the opposite happened.
‘He was beside himself with anger and months later when Alex and Sarah came round for a meal, Joe went out and refused to speak to Alex. There was tension between them for the remainder of their lives.’
1. The mountain leader certificates for summer and winter are now generally accepted as a good thing, while other qualifications – like the Single Pitch Award certificate – were forced onto the BMC training committee because the MLTB were threatening to create one, and some colleges were already trying to register a similar certificate nationally as an NVQ independent of the BMC. The BMC has steered climbing into fairly safe waters compared to some other sports. Although after Alex’s time, the various climbing qualifications, from Mountaineering Instructor Certificate to full blown guide affiliated to the UIAA, are more or less a vertical ladder of professional progression. Today, a risk averse education system dominated by certification means debate has calmed – but only until an accident occurs.[back]
2. Libby became a successful businesswoman and rider. In recent years she has been able to choose her work. Alex would have been incredibly proud of his sister’s success.[back]