Mark Penry, 1965-2025
Mark on the Nadelhorn in 1998
I met Mark in the late 90s while working in Bern, Switzerland. A co-worker told me we needed to meet since he was a climber like me. I’m always skeptical of those kinds of claims, but soon we were knocking out major climbs in the Alps together. It was usually a struggle to keep up with him.
Towards the end of the climbing season a group of climbers from Colorado somehow got wind that we were in Switzerland, and invited us to tag along with them on some big-name peaks. Due to work commitments, we had to split up: Mark joined them on Monte Rosa, the highest peak in Switzerland, and I joined them for Mt. Blanc, the highest peak in Europe. After a summer of running up and down the Alps every week, we were both in the peak physical conditions of our lives. That turned out to be a good thing.
My trip came first, and it quickly became apparent that the visitors were in over their heads. After their leader took a bad fall, I was elected to lead. We made the summit, but on the way down I was almost pulled off the mountain a few times. To this day it remains my most harrowing climbing experience.
Myself, Yarmo, and Mark on the summit of the Bishorn with the Weisshorn looming in the background
When I got down, I tried desperately to warn Mark, but this was in the pre-cell phone days, and I wasn't able to reach him. When we connected next at our home base in Bern, he vividly told a similar story to mine. We bonded over that shared experience ever since.
That same year we skied together frequently. On one trip Mark invited his friend Yarmo, a Finnish co-worker with a perpetually sunny disposition. Since our normal routine was to hit an expert slope on the first run, I asked Mark if his friend was up to it. Supremely confident as usual, Mark confirmed that it was no problem. We shot to the bottom and proceeded to wait almost an hour for Yarmo. He eventually walked out with a sheepish grin and one of his new Volkl skis broken completely in half.
When our team moved back to Colorado at the end of our contract, we hiked and climbed together frequently. In the early 2000s I did some soul-searching and moved out of the corporate world to find something more meaningful. I eventually got rid of my possessions and spent time in rural Guatemala putting together the pieces of what would eventually become Pura Vida.
At this point I had nowhere to live, but Mark graciously took me into a spare room in his house in Parker. It was then I began to begin work on creating educational programs in Central America for children in need. It is no overstatement that without Mark's help, I never would have been able to create the nonprofit which has been my focus for the last 20 years.
I hope Mark understood how fundamental he was to this, and the impact he subsequently had through those programs in Guatemala. I will certainly miss his friendship.
Our third attempt on the Rinderhorn was the charm.
Mark famously brought canned peaches (and a can opener, of course) as a lightweight snack on our first Rinderhorn attempt.
Bad snow conditions turned us around, but at least the peaches were tasty!
