Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
I'd met Bruce while working in a children's adventure camp in England. We had
been working for a lousy forty pounds a week and sleeping on beds made out of
stolen bread crates. Bruce lived in a leaky canvas tent, and I was crammed into a
small room with three other young Australians.
He was a tall, athletically built Scot with bright ginger hair and a cheeky smile.
We often spent our spare time discussing things over a beer, dreaming about places
we'd rather be. On one of our days off, he introduced me to the mountains of Snow-
donia, in northern Wales. As we made for the cloud-drenched distant peaks, the
extraneous matter of life evaporated and we shared moments of pure joy. Over the
following two years there were countless cycling, hiking and mountain trips. At
one stage, I lived with the Coopers for three months while working in a shortbread
factory in northern Scotland. Our last journey together had been eighteen months
ago in the Cairngorm mountains during winter.
Over all this time, Bruce set an example for me. He demonstrated that there was
a greater risk at stake than safety when climbing mountains: the risk of not trying
something uncomfortable. That feeling of reaching the top and knowing that you
had earned the view wasn't worth throwing away in the face of fear.
But more than anything else, I admired Bruce's humility, generosity, humour
and ability to connect with people. His many years of working with the blind and
the disadvantaged had given him a rare insight into people and society.
In the lounge room, Rita, Bruce's mother, broke down. 'We are just so be-
wildered, Tim,' she sobbed. Neil moved over and held her in his arms; he was put-
ting on a brave face. In a corner of the room, I saw a photo of two cheeky-looking,
red-haired twins. A squeal of delight came from a far room as Alexa played with a
soft toy.
When Bruce came home the next day he was in a coffin.
He'd spent his last evening in a local pub with Neil and a long-time friend,
Robin. Around midnight Neil and Robin left, leaving Bruce with a school friend he
hadn't seen in years.
He had been suffering from Seasonal Affective Disorder, a condition that often
results in depression during the dark winter months in northerly latitudes. After re-
ceiving light therapy he seemed to be on the mend.
Perhaps the alcohol mixed with his anti-depressant tablets on that final night
had been his undoing. At some point he would have come to Duff Avenue, perhaps
even walked past his house, but the decision must have already been made. In any
