11/10/2025
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Remembering My Dear Friend and Father Figure, Henry Todd
I first met Henry in the spring of 1999, during my very first Everest expedition.
O man, what a first impression — a big guy, soft-spoken, with that calm presence that immediately stood out in the chaos of basecamp life.
From that first season and for nearly 15 years, I had the pleasure of always crossing paths with him. He was always there — always in his own world, yet somehow always right where you needed him.
For all those years, stopping by Henry’s camp was a mandatory pit stop on our way to base camp after the long trek in. He never cared for fancy setups — his basecamp was simple and functional, just the way he liked it. Rice and dal bhat were the staple meal, and it was always a joy for Damian and me to sit with him, share stories, and feel that calm energy before heading higher up the mountain.
If there was ever a reason for Henry to leave his camp, it was to come over to ours and enjoy our Argentinian salames, ham, and cheese. Good food is part of our culture, and Henry was quite fond of it. Those small gatherings — sharing food and laughter at 17,000 feet — are memories I’ll always treasure.
Everest is a magnet for drama, but Henry had this unique ability to stay clear of it all. Still, whenever something went wrong — an accident, a rescue, or one of those tough moments that come with the mountain — he was the first to reach out on the radio, offering help, gear, or just his calm, steady voice.
After big rescues or exhausting Everest days, Damian and I would often head over to his tent. The heater would be blasting, our eyes watering from the carbon monoxide, and we’d sit there for hours talking.
He had this classic line — “OKAY, FINE” — which could mean anything: “I agree,” “I disagree,” or just “shut up, I’m talking now.”
In so many ways, Henry became a father figure to us.
The last time I saw him was in 2018, after the ski permit fiasco. I took a break from Everest for a while, but when I returned this past spring, he somehow knew right away I was in Kathmandu. He sent me a message — I told him I’d visit after I came back from the summit.
Sadly, life took over, and that visit never happened.
Henry, my friend — your soul will live forever on the slopes of Everest.
Thank you for everything. You’ll be deeply missed
Henry B Todd, a veteran British mountain outfitter, has died at the age of 80 while undergoing treatment in Kathmandu.
