At the top of Buachaille Etive Mor this weekend a small group of climbers would have gathered, perhaps hoisted a small cup of the hard stuff in the air and toasted a long lost friend, Trevor Walls.
Yesterday, July 9, marked the seventh year since this remarkable man slipped from our lives.
But while he may be gone, in the hearts of those who knew him fondly, he will never be forgotten.
None of us will ever really know what happened that day. All we can hope is that when his time finally came, he was happy. He deserved to be.
Many will have known Trevor far, far better than I.
But I remember the first conversation we had clearly, because it was so out of the blue, and left an impression on me which I carry with me even today.
We were standing in the queue of the canteen in the Scottish Daily Record and Sunday Mail building, each clutching our plates laden with heart attack breakfast food and a cup of tea.
He was ahead of me and served first, when he turned round to the teller and said “his too please” pointing to my tray.
I’d never spoken to Trevor before, never been in his company.
We shared friends, knew who each other were, but until that moment other than a head nod and good morning, had never exchanged a word.
He brushed away my protests, accepted my sincere thanks, smiled and marched off to his work station with the words: “Do something nice from time to time, and your world becomes richer with friends.”
And so it proved.
I am proud to be able to count Trevor among them, and those in his wider circle.
And while those at the top of a cloud covered munro will have remembered him in their own way, mine’s is through trying to raise money for the Mountain Rescue Committee of Scotland.
I hope he approves, because I can think of no other way.
And I still owe him breakfast.