"I went back over to the parking lot. Here came the train, I could see it coming up the tracks, to where it makes a big turn and goes into the tunnel. I was looking right down the spot light, and I'm yelling 'It's coming, it's coming.' I couldn't hear if they were yelling anything back at me.

"The train got about 200 yards from the tunnel, still going real slow because it has to climb a big hill, when the guy hit the whistle. Those guys later described it: they were just sitting there, and all of a sudden this 'WOOOOOOONNNN' came echoing into the tunnel. They saw the bright light making its sweep on the curve, and they went flying out of there like you wouldn't believe. They had about a hundred yards to spare, but there was this bridge they had to cross just outside of the tunnel portal, and they didn't have time to get across that. They had to go right down a steep embankment, which went underneath the bridge at about a 60-degree slope. None of them got hurt or anything, but it was pretty hairy."

Bob was something of a daredevil. During the junior patrol trip to Aspen in 1974, he was standing with friends on the last slope at the Snowmass-at-Aspen area, which runs between two lodges. He turned to Jim and handed him his parka. "Watch this," he said, and took off down the slope. He made a few quick turns, then headed for a bump, took a huge jump, and landed in the middle of a lodge swimming pool, which was unoccupied. He swam around the pool collecting his equipment, which came off when he hit the water, climbed out, put his skis back on, zipped down the mountain to the lodge where they were all staying, and took a hot shower.

EARLY IN FEBRUARY 1976, Bob wrote a letter to Jim, and mailed it along with the picture in the box above, to "Sir James K. Bredar IX, Mathews Hall #30." In part the letter read:

Jim,

Your mission, should you decide to accept it, is to find a bottle of champagne of a 1966 vintage and sit down with the coed of your fancy and have one hell of a good birthday party! But beware of intoxicated, horny females. I am sure you are fully capable of handling the situation, but if you are caught or fail you know the consequences.

Well, much has transpired since I last saw you in front of Sports International. My trip to California proved to be great fun with a lot of flying to be had. I logged almost 12 hours of air time in less than 2 1/2 weeks. My traveling companion Rich Graham and I spent the first two weeks in the San Diego area, flying mostly at Torrey Pines, but did some flying inland at Lake Elsinore and Big Black Mountain outside of Ramona, Calif. Our stay in Torrey Pines culminated with a 11/2 hour moonlight cruise over the entire six miles of cliffs at about 400 ft. above the terrain. There were just two of us flying around with flashlights illuminating our sails to avoid any midair mishaps. We then moved on to the L.A. area for four days of flying at Point Fermin, an old lighthouse on top of a 175 foot cliff that was soarable at 2 p.m. every afternoon. We finished our trip to California with a spectacular hour flight into the sunset, just the two of us flying around watching a sailboat regatta with all its color and pageantry.

Linda Buckham has been racing for Colorado College this year and you ought to see the improvement in her skiing. It's phenomenal. She was in her first race last weekend at Winter Park and did quite well. She was so excited it was hard not to get just as excited watching. That girl is so full of life that it is catchy. Joe Ward is living in Frazier and skiing every day, and he is now the hottest skier at Winter Park. He is very quick and even faster than last year. We are planning to go to Jackson Hole and Sun Valley over spring break to see if we can do some helicopter skiing and maybe even win some money at some freestyle contest. Wanted to go to Telluride but Mary Lyn can't get away from school so I've decided to try these different areas.

Hope finals weren't too much for you. Sorry I wasn't in when you called last Thursday night but I am very hard to catch and not at home very often.

Have a happy birthday ol' Diamond, B.P.

That was the last letter Bob sent to Jim. Jim flew to Denver March 24, 1976, for spring break, planning to meet Bob in a few days and go climbing and backpacking in the Grand Canyon. But the next evening, Mary Lyn called Jim and told him Bob had had an accident on the 24th while flying his hang glider off Point Fermin, California.

The pilots who glide at Point Fermin launch themselves by running down the gentle slope that leads to the cliff edge, but long before they reach it, they are airborne. They head out over the water, lose altitude, and circle back to the beach, making long figure eights parallel to the cliffs, riding the natural updrafts that blow steadily from the sea. When they are ready to land they spiral up in the breeze to the cliff edge, turn towards it, and touch down.

Bob was soaring above the summit, trying to land on the slope that leads to the precipice, when the wind stopped. Caught in a rare, freakish downdraft, the kite plummeted. When he saw he would be unable to land he shifted his weight and thrust at the control bar, trying to turn away from the cliff, head out over the ocean, gain some altitude and try again. He didn't have time. Striking the cliff about 15 feet below the summit, he slid 25 feet down the stone face to a ledge. Then the inland wind resumed and pinned the kite and his body to the rock.

"Meanwhile, another guy on the cliff saw the whole thing happen," Jim says. "He rigged up a rope real quick and rappelled down to him, got to him about three or four minutes after it happened. Bob wasn't breathing, so he started artificial respiration. They called a rescue team, cut him out of the kite, dropped the rescue equipment to the ledge and lifted him up. His heart kept going, but he never breathed by himself after that. He was there in California for about three weeks, and then his parents had him flown to Colorado General."

Right after the accident, Bob lapsed into a coma, his brain showing a bare minimum of EEG activity. "He had so many serious injuries. He had a collapsed lung that couldn't be fixed until he was stronger, he had a skull fracture, and a subdural hematoma--a blood clot against the brain. His leg was mangled, a compound fracture in several places. He was just a mess."