For countless climbers in Colorado and beyond, the final days of an already overwhelming year fell heavy with disbelief and sadness.
On the day after Christmas, Dariusz “Darek” Krol was backcountry skiing at Berthoud Pass when he was killed in an avalanche. He was skiing alone while his wife, Anita, and daughter, Nina, waited for him in the car.
Darek was at the heart of our climbing community, connecting with so many people in a way that made them feel special. He not only cared for his friends, he showed them he cared through his his encouragement, his overflowing enthusiasm and his strong and warm embrace.
He was tall, lean and muscular with dark, curly hair and wild eyes. His intensity was softened by his nearly constant smile and palpable kindness. At 57 years old, he exuded the energy of someone 30 years younger. He stood tall and straight, shoulders back — a rarity among otherwise hunched over climbers. Combined with the spirited bounce in his step, it was easy to spot him across a crowded gym or at a busy cliff.
For him, everything had an air of urgency, as if he never quite had enough time. He talked fast, drove fast, walked fast and thought fast. His quick wit would catch people like me off guard — he was always a step ahead.
Before moving to Boulder in 1997, Darek taught French in Poland. He also helped create and edit two Polish climbing periodicals. Somehow, he also found time to start one of the early climbing gyms and organize some of the country’s first climbing competitions.
When he and his family left Poland, Darek barely spoke English. In Boulder, he first worked as a window washer, then eventually taught himself computer programming. His English improved rapidly, and while his accent remained strong (and endearing), his vocabulary bested many native English speakers. He most recently worked as an IT director at Boulder Valley School District.
Darek felt at home abroad and all over the U.S., yet Rifle Mountain Park is where he thrived. On summer and autumn weekends he would jump into his Saab and speed a few hours to Rifle from Boulder where he would climb, watch the stars and hang out with his many friends while always seeming to make new ones.
He was an elite climber who pushed himself and obsessed over the minutia of sport routes, the movement, the handholds and footholds. At Rifle, he would sometimes spend months or even multiple seasons perfecting a single climb. Last autumn he was in the best shape of his life, said his close friend, Ed McKeown. “At 56 years of age it was no small feat that he was still picking off routes at the highest level that he’s ever climbed.”
His zeal for discovery led him to every corner of the canyon, tracing possible lines up untouched walls in his mind. Over the years he established more than fifteen routes at Rifle (plus more in Poland and on the Front Range).
At night, he would sit around the campfire and point out constellations. For him, the night sky was almost as important as the climbing. His curiosity drove him to study things like astronomy, language, French poetry and fine red wine. In that way he was, as Anita would say, a “renaissance man.”
As president of the Rifle Climbers Coalition he eagerly spearheaded improvement projects and important correspondence with policy makers. “The guy that he was for Rifle, being the steward and the organizer and the liaison between the climbers and the city — that’s exactly who he’s always been,” said McKeown, referring to his incredible investment in the Krakow climbing community in the 1990s and his devotion to Colorado climbing over the last 23 years.
But what really set Darek apart was not just his intellect, his charisma, or his passion for climbing and for learning. It was his mastery of the simplest things, the most important things: kindness, happiness and love.
Even in our grief, may his memory nudge us toward living more like he did.
Contact Chris Weidner at cweidner8@gmail.com. Follow him on Instagram @christopherweidner and Twitter @cweidner8.
