Obituary: Caroline Walker, 1978 - 2003 - Compiled by Catherine Jones

Caroline Walker died as the result of an accident on Ben Arthur (the "Cobbler") early in September 2003. Caroline had been a very enthusiastic and active member of the GUM Club since 1997 when she came to Glasgow University. Although she graduated in 2002 with a degree in Botany, she was still an active member of the club and a familiar face in the pub on Tuesday nights.

The following contributions for this obituary are from various GUM Clubbers, both present and past, who knew Caroline primarily through the GUM club.

Caroline had a great love for the mountains and I know from speaking to others that she was famous for always managing to have a good day out, whatever the weather.

Having known Caroline for only a couple of years, I, however, only have one personal memory of a day out in the hills with her. It was on one of the GUM clubs freshers' meets when we had a beautiful day to do the Ballachulish horseshoe. I remember as we climbed up to the first Munro, I was "bringing up the rear" with a large bottle of Irun Bru and a couple of other "more experienced" members. Caroline, on the other hand, who had no doubt indulged just as much as I had in the Clachaig the night before, was, typically, up at the front showing a large bunch of keen freshers that at least some of the GUM club members had true enthusiasm for the hills.

The place I probably knew Caroline better was back in Glasgow where I was fortunate enough to find out about one of Caroline's other big passions- cooking. On numerous visits to her flat, whether it was just for a cup of tea and a piece of the latest home baking or for dinner with a few friends, I always looked forward to the tasty food which was undoubtedly on offer. I particularly remember one pancake party at Caroline's and Pete's flat where the number of fillings on offer forced us all to have at least a ten course meal, helped along by some unique combinations of alcohol.

Caroline was also an excellent scientist and I, doing my PhD and theoretically a couple of years ahead of her in terms of academia, would enjoy discussing with her our latest experiments or how a particular plant protein functions, usually totally bamboozling whoever else we may have been talking to.

Caroline had a great enthusiasm for life and I, for one, will fondly remember, but sorely miss, her company.
Andy Fielding

The most abiding memories I have of her are her being happy. I don't think I ever had a conversation with her that didn't involve laughter somewhere along the line. She was always ready for a chat, always had answers to questions (even if they were stupid ones I really shouldn't have needed to ask), and was so full of vitality it made everything she said count.

I remember having long conversations with her about the John Muir Trust and coming away from them with the feeling I should be out there helping do more to affect and improve the environment we live in. That's probably one of the things that made her so much larger than life - her complete enthusiasm and commitment to all things ecological, and determination to get everyone else involved too.

I'm really glad I had the chance to get to know her a little, and I'll miss her a lot.
Diana Hunter

There's not much to say about Caroline that hasn't already been said, she
was kind, committed, cheerful, just a little bit eccentric and almost always
late! I'm glad that she was one of the first people I met in the GUM club
when we shared a square metre of Glen Coe village hall and a few cans of
tennants on our first freshers meet. It was the start of a friendship which
I miss that gave me lots of adventures, a big pile of hugs, the odd glass of
wine and the best birthday cake I've ever had!
Frances Bain

A sunny Easter weekend in Knoydart, with many toads for amusement. Climbing at Reiff, at Pooh corner. Eating many pancakes cooked on the legendary enormous frying pan whilst drinking "milk-liqueur and whisky" shots. A very wet week camping at Slig on Skye, drinking lots of tea. The cooking of vast quantities of curry at Becky's cottage for my 21st birthday. Eating lots and lots of pudding at the annual dinner and dancing the "basket dance" (or whatever it is called), and, inevitably, ending up on the floor. Crossing a torrent of water in the Monadhliath, barefoot in February to get to the hill. Playing at being stick insects at Loch an Eilean. Fungus spotting on a GUMC freshers' trip up Ben An.

A jumble of memories that I seem to have of Caroline. However, this misses out so much of her. I only knew a small part of Caroline's ever busy life. She always was up to something, be it working out how to get to a John Muir Trust meeting entirely on foot and by train, to making some new cake recipe she had just acquired or seeing Pete's band play, amongst other things. You sort of slotted into her life and saw her when she wasn't doing all the other things she did.

I miss the fungus spotting on the hill, the weird and wonderful conversations and a friend that was keen to go to the hills and have fun there; not necessarily to push your grade, but just to get out there and enjoy it all, be it raining, snowing, windy or lovely warm sunshine.
Catherine Jones

Where does one begin when asked to contribute to a friend's obituary? Caroline's passing is a tremendous loss to a great number of people. The easiest option would be to wax lyrical about the old days; harp on about how we had the best of times. In actual fact, I discovered only after her death that there was a whole side to Caroline of which I knew very little about. I knew the climbing club Caroline, full of enthusiasm and drive, the more attractive half of the Caroline and Peter double act. I also knew the West Prince's St. flat Caroline, sharing a flat with Roz and Kate, poaching stolen fish and discussing novel philosophies of unfeasible self sufficient farming utopias. I knew that she was heavily involved with the John Muir Trust but I did not realise quite the extent and level of commitment that she gave, but it did not surprise me.

Caroline was one of the first GUM clubbers I met and midweek trips to the Ibrox climbing wall soon became a regular feature of my first year timetable. Slowly but surely Caroline, among others, watched me progress from scrabbling on sticky plastic holds on the indoor wall to scrabbling for cake whilst moaning about the rain at the bottom of dripping wet V.Diffs at several of the more salubrious locations around southern Scotland. I have been walking with her on many occasions where all of my mutterings about rain, snow, and if I am to be honest, everything else, were greeting with a cheery "Ach!" followed by some cheery indisputably logical comeback and a grin. Then there was her more devious side. I am absolutely sure that, given Caroline's infinite capabilities in the mountains, she could not possibly have dragged me halfway to Ben Macdui by accident on our way into Corrie an Lochain whilst swimming through chest deep snow one December. The fact we had agreed on a climb at least three grades harder than either of us could do after drinking a bottle of Advocaat had nothing to do with it at all…

Another lasting memory I have of Caroline is her love of good whisky, I sincerely hope she actually knew something about whisky or I have been regaling my English counterparts with nonsense for the last six years, but every time I take a drink of Glen Morangie it will stir a few memories.

I last saw Caroline in May last year and I had lost touch a bit. She had become one of those people from university who I saw maybe once or twice a year but I found that we could just pick up exactly where we left off, as if it was the day before.

I feel that I could write a great deal more here, but for fear of overwhelming the journal I will stop. There are so many stories to tell, I am sure others will recount them far more eloquently than myself. We all have our memories and I am sure at reunion meets in years to come we will share stories of, among others, giant frying pans, haggis and the size of snowmen's bits, whilst debating the presence of water in a good single malt.

Absolutely gutted….
Martin Smith

It should be mentioned how much Caroline liked our lovely wee Clashgour! I know last time we were all up there for the works and Christmas parties we read quite a lot of her entries in the journals and had quite a good laugh!
Lindsay McGowan
I can't remember first meeting Caroline. I suppose this is unsurprising as she was very easy to get to know, to get along with and it can't have been long until it felt like I had known her for years.

When I think of her no one image springs to mind, but a jumble of memories. In particular there was the Rum meet back in 1998 before the onset of my gammy leg and slide into old-man hill walker status. Caroline and I decided to head to the Northwest face of Askival, the biggest mountain crag on the island, and climb it. The guide book description bore no resemblance to the route and from below it looked dark and forbidding with a steep loose approach slope. With Caroline's good-natured enthusiasm, however we pressed on to the base of the crag. Once we got onto the rock it was wonderful; the rock consisted of perfect gabbro slabs with the odd arête giving variety as well as quality to the climb. We topped out at the summit and the views of Skye, Eigg and a jumble of blue hills stretching eastwards on the mainland were like a crowning glory on a perfect day.

Recently, after she returned from Canada I started to get to know different sides to Caroline. She devoted a great deal of her time not only to the hills and the GUM club but also to various environmental and conservation groups. She helped me look for work, giving advice and forwarding job adverts, always eager to help.

I became more aware recently of Caroline's social and political views as well as environmental concerns. Her journal article about land access leaves no doubt as to her views in that respect and I remember first reading it and looking forward to taking part in the "mass trespass" to reaffirm out right to roam.

The last full day that I spent with Caroline was not your average GUM club meet. The annual Dinner Meet coincided with the massive anti war demonstration in Glasgow last year on the 15th of February. I wanted to be a part of it but I didn't want to miss out on the Dinner Meet. Luckily I wasn't the only one to feel this way. Sheila and I drove to Glasgow and met up with Pete and Caroline where we became four of the 100,000 people who took part in what was a truly historical event, before heading up the road in time for the legendary dinner and ceilidh.

So what now? To lose a good friend is sickening, shocking. I still sometimes can't believe that it has happened, that such a thing can happen to a well liked friend who was just going for a walk. Do I value friendship more now? I think so. Do I respect the dangers of the hills more now? I don't know.
Joe Glennie

I should of realised when I was cleaning the tiles in the bathroom, it should definitely of hit me when I was re-coiling all our ropes to make them look neat, but it wasn't until I found myself polishing the silver teapot that I really faced up to the fact that I was procrastinating, big time. I've been actively avoiding writing this article all day. It terrifies me.

I know I'm being ridiculous, I know I'm being a complete coward, but it doesn't change the fact that I'm still terrified. Whatever I write here, however many times I use the computers thesaurus to find the perfect word with just the right nuance, it isn't going to work. I'm terrified because this is something I should get right, something I badly, desperately want to get right, but yet I've known all day that I'm going to get it wrong.

I'm trying to write about Caroline, but I can't begin to find that one story, that one event that says what I want to about her. You never experience things thinking you'll have to relate them again like this and it just won't come together neatly in my head. . Pancakes, generosity, Botanic Gardens, Wales, rain, determination, Cleopatra, tea, fungi, and inspiration are all jostling for a place on the page but still they won't tell you about Caroline. That's what's terrifying me, it's my chance to tell you about this incredible person in my life but I know that I can't put the words together to do that the way I want to.

Caroline is dead, and for the first couple of days after her accident that idea was so impossible that I was scared of telling other people in case it turned out to be a weird kind of joke. A few months on and it's not so impossible anymore I can write it, read it, hear it, say it and know that it's true. What's equally as true though is that being dead is not the important thing about Caroline. It's not what I think of when I hear her name, it's not what appears in my head when I talk about her, and it's not what I feel as I write this. How I think, and how I feel about Caroline today is the same as what I felt and thought a year ago when we were both trying to find a direction after graduating, or two years ago as when we were stuck together in the flat preparing for finals. My sense of Caroline as a valued and constant friend hasn't changed at all and that, I guess, is why this article is so hard to write. I usually talk about my friends over a pint, or a pot of tea, not via a computer screen, so I can only suggest that if you really want to know about Caroline ask me there.
Lisa Adamson