‘Who’s the bloke with him?’ Trekking in the shadow of mountaineering royalty

As a friend, Pete’s incredibly warm. I got cancer in 2016 and he really helped – just by talking and checking up on me. He’s thought about mortality a lot, as many climbers do. He had to face it horribly in his own life at 21 [when his mother Louise and younger sister Belinda died in a plane crash in Nepal in March 1975]. I’ve been several times with him up to the ridge above Kunde [in Nepal] to the shrines for Ed and Belinda and Louise. It was just such an unbelievable blow. But he took on the added responsibility in his family, and he’s discharged it amazingly ever since.

Despite all the charm, Pete does have a steely resolve. If he wants to do something, that’s it. Sometimes he’ll say, very politely, “I’d like to do it this way” and you may disagree. But you know who’s going to win.

Peter: Simon is a complex person. He can be marvellously funny – and the more you laugh, the more he enjoys it and the more outrageous the stories become. But he’s also got this ability to be very serious: to lock on to an issue like a terrier and not let go. That’s been a great benefit to the Australian Himalayan Foundation [of which Balderstone was founding chairman] because when you start an organisation you’ve generally got a few high-minded ideals, a few interested people, but no money and, actually, no real clue. Building something worthwhile takes a lot of stamina and grit and incredibly hard work, and Simon just got on with it. He’s a manual transmission type of guy: he can always drop it down another gear and bring up the revs. He always sees it through.

The happiest I’ve ever seen him is in the mountains when evening’s coming on, the clouds open up and there are the great Himalayan peaks, bathed in golden light. He walks around with this big, beaming smile – for the beauty of the scene and also the effect it’s having on everyone. He loves the camaraderie of those moments, and the high adventure and challenge of that environment.

But I’ve also seen him really at peace with the world just dropping down from his place to Little Manly beach for an early-morning coffee and a swim. He loves the big stuff and the small, incidental stuff: he sees quality wherever he goes.

‘Even when he was extremely unwell, he carried on: going to Nepal, working with the foundation. I think that says so much about his generous spirit.’

Peter Hillary

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His cancer scare – when it was primary cancer and then secondary – meant he was juggling a lot of really big metaphysical issues: who am I? What do I represent? We spoke pretty often. I felt really honoured that he included me in the group to share what was happening to him. There was a time where we were really bracing ourselves – obviously, a secondary melanoma is extremely serious. But he was on a special treatment regime and it’s been resoundingly successful. But even when he was extremely unwell, he carried on: going to Nepal, working with the foundation. I think that says so much about his generous spirit. Most people in that scenario would say, “I’ve got to look after number one right now,” and we would all go, “Of course you should do that.” But he was still out there, moving heaven and earth to try to help.

One of my fondest memories of Simon is from years ago. We were in Darjeeling at this very old, British Raj-era hotel called the Windamere. We were sharing a room and we’d come back after dinner and they’d put a fire on in the room. And we’d lie on our beds in the warmth of the fire, talking about the day’s events like two ancient gentlemen. It was so old-style, and so lovely.