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 n a sunny afternoon at his Vashon Island home, Wolf Bauer asks me for a favor. I’ve finished reviewing the old photographs I came to see, and now Wolf has a chore at the beach that needs doing, one that could use an extra pair of hands. We walk past Wolf’s impeccably maintained kayaks and scramble over the driftwood to the high-tide mark. A section of wooden dock ramp has washed ashore; it must weigh several hundred pounds. Wolf wants to push it farther up from the beach, and he’s made a good start on the job by himself. Together we put our shoulders to it and shove the ramp up the slope like a pair of linebackers. I’m impressed with Wolf. Despite being almost twice my age—at 93—he seems to do most of the work. In retrospect, that’s a good description of the life of one of the Northwest’s most remarkable mountaineers. |
