Dear René,

It was a determined René who arrived at the summit of Mönch in the Bernese Alps on Monday 28th of March, 2022. We can assume that the ascent from the Jungfraujoch railway station was uneventful. It is not a very long or technical climb but being above 4000 meters, the dangers of the mountain are always present.

Whatever the weather conditions were, René did not hesitate but quickly decided to set up his speed wing and launch towards the Lauterbrunnen valley over the unforgiving North West wall of the Mönch.

René´s body was later found wrapped into his wing on the Eigar glacier 900 meters below the launch site. We can only speculate what went wrong. Some kind of misslaunch seems to be the only plausible explanation. Like so often in fatal incidents, we desperately try to understand the how and the why, and of course, we easily get consumed by the endless what-ifs.

I do not remember when I met René for the first time, but I know I had heard of him long before I met him. The Finnish skydiving community called him "Hollantilainen Panomies" and "Terskasten", which loosely translates to "The Dutch Stud" and "Glans Rock", glans as in the head of the penis. Another excellent example of the Finns and their glorious language.

Photo by Will Penny

I got to know René during the Christmas Boogie in Sevilla in 2014. René's natural talent and love for flying were evident to everyone who had the privilege to fly with him. What always impressed me the most was his remarkable speed in packing his parachute, setting up his paraglider, or merely going from playing a heated game of Twister to having a glass of wine.

On multiple occasions, René was set and ready to go while I was still wondering where I had put my sock. At some point, he developed this method of acting as he was getting ready to lure me into moving a bit faster. It usually worked; unfortunately, more often than not, once I was ready, I realized that my other sock was still missing, and I had to start all over.

What made us friends was when I could relate to his heartache. I gave him unique advice like "a samurai does not dwell on the past" and "someone better will eventually come along". I am convinced that these brilliant life coach sessions were fundamental for his recovery. If nothing else, we did have some good laughs. One does not have to be much of a Nostradamus to suggest that The Dutch Stud will bounce back.

Photo by Flo Zburatorul

Of course, someone amazing soon came along. It was an honour to observe the development of Renés and Laura's relationship. To find a partner who is willing to leave everything and move into a small mountain village and adapt to the extraordinary life that entails is impressive, to say the least. Back in the day, I had to take my creativity to the next level to convince my wife to move 10 km from the city centre; she said she didn't quite like the darkness of the countryside. But then again, I am no Dutch Stud.

Over the years, I have developed this method of testing friendships. It is easy to be friends when everything is moving along smoothly, but knowing how your friend will react when it gets a bit uncomfortable makes all the difference. For years I used René as a practice target to develop my method. Nothing tests a friendship as much as when someone not only takes the phrase "you should come visit sometimes" literally but also removes the word "sometimes" from the suggestion. Knowing that I would be stuck in city life for the rest of my days, I soon became a regular at their house. That small mountain village became like a second home to me.

Photo by Laura James

I continuously created social boobytraps for René. I randomly left my wet ski boots in the middle of the living room, I constantly left the door open, and I usually drank the last of the Gluhwein. Not only did I bring my dog Rony with me for week-long stays, but I had trained him to keep smacking loudly throughout the night. This method worked very well when Laura and René lived in a one-room apartment and Rony and I slept on the couch only one meter away from their bed. It is probably one of the reasons they decided to get a larger apartment and provide me with my own room. Therefore, I quickly retrained Rony to stop smacking and start hiding his food pellets all over the house instead. But nothing seemed to unbalance René, not even when I walked in on him and Laura doing naked Twister. An honest mistake, I swear, but still. Apparently, "yes" does not mean "enter."

Anyone inspired to test this friendship method should also apply the 30-minute rule. Whenever you evaluate your hosts' hospitality level, you need to at any time be able to pack up your stuff and get out of the house within 30 minutes. Eventually, René was ready for the ultimate test. I purposely made a fool out of myself in front of some local mountain chieftain, which resulted in René and Laura getting grounded for the day and me grounded for the foreseeable future. That day, I could sense that it was time to use the 30-minute rule.

Despite all the curveballs I threw at René, he rarely showed his frustration or let it linger. Instead, he invited me to: "soon come back home." Every time I did, he met me at the door with a big smile, he made me feel welcome, he made me feel at home, and he was childishly excited over what mischiefs we could come up with this time.

Of course, there were tensions at times. Renés brutal and honest feedback was, for many, me included, challenging to hear. What was especially frustrating was that he had a valid point most of the time. Not always, but most of the time. Well, I was right at least once.

René might have lacked some subtlety in his communication, but he made up for it with excellent hospitality, generosity, and kindness. Whatever was the cause of the strain, I seldom made it out of the bed before he brought me a coffee with milk just the way I like it, and I knew that a plate of Egg Benedict was soon to follow.

One of my best memories with René is when we were making risotto after a day in the mountains. Well, "we" is pushing it a bit; René was doing most of the cooking, and I was successfully avoiding being of any help. We drank our favourite wine, the second cheapest we could find and chuckled at Trump videos. Playing a small part in helping René appreciate the political finesse and comedic brilliance of Donald Trump is one of my proudest accomplishments.

Photo by Laura James

The thought of a Soprano-like ending of life as merely a silent black screen can be unbearable to think of. To cope with our grief, we tend to convince ourselves of spirits, souls, and an afterlife. To me, it is a matter of our memories of those we loved and lost. Even the brightest star will eventually fade away and be forgotten. But if we keep the memories alive, it is easier for us to hold on to the unrealistic hope of one day being reunited.

This is what I intend to do. I will cherish all the great moments I had with René. I will certainly be selective and try my best to remove all disputes, words said in anger, and times when I failed him. I will create my narrative based on exaggerated highlights of our friendship using all filters available. I will return to these memories often and polish them to perfection. The spirit of René will always be with me.

So, my dear René, I will hold you to your word, and I promise to keep mine. I have some unfinished business to take care of over here, so don't start poaching the eggs just yet. But we are on our way; we will eventually come back home.

Photo by Laura James