Jim Robertson

Jim Robertson

1955-2016

on Lurg Mhor

We all have our cherished memories of Jim - whether spending an impromptu music night at Nancy's in Fersit, or chatting on a long hill day 'bagging' Lurg Mhor, or searching for lost car keys on the Strathfarrar munros - Jim loved the outdoor life.

His daughter Lynn has created a fund raiser in memory of her Dad - her words will touch the soul of any hill goer, and tug the heartstrings of any parent.

on An Teallach

from JustGiving 

An immense amount of work has been done by Braemer Mountain Rescue Team to establish the likely circumstances in which our beloved dad, Jim Robertson, went missing.

It is likely that he left Bob Scott's Bothy early on the morning of Wednesday 2nd March 2016, two days before his 61st birthday. It is likely that he headed to the second highest mountain in the UK, Ben Macdui (in the Cairngorms). It is likely that he has had a tragic accident and has succumbed to the elements somewhere on this mountain.

Setting up this page is our way of sharing our deepest heartfelt thanks with the volunteers of BMRT and we would be extremely grateful for any donations, no matter how small they may be. 

Sadly, our dad will not be the last person to need the help of BMRT. We appreciate that our fundraising goal is high however the running cost of BMRT is 'tens of thousands - every year, year after year' and all of their work is 'done on a voluntary basis.'

There are no words to express our feelings of gratitude towards all of those who have been involved in the search thus far. Regardless of the outcome, we are truly overwhelmed by their kindness, compassion and commitment. 

We are now hoping that BMRT can recover our dad's body and bring him home to us. Once we have him home, we can say our final goodbyes and return our dearest dad to the hills, where he belongs.

We only wish our dad could see just how much has been done for him... He would be so amazed and deeply moved

Dad, may only the purest snow ever fall on you x

on the Horns of Alligan

A letter to my dearest Dad,

It’s been a week since Paul and I felt the pain of realising you may never come home. 

We knew something was very wrong when you didn’t show up for your birthday dinner that we’d all been looking forward to. When our fears were realised, my heart began to hurt more than I thought it ever could (the hurt hasn’t dulled one bit). 

That weekend of waiting was the longest and most hellish weekend of our lives. The desperation and the not knowing were the worst.... Or so we thought until Monday when everything changed and we had to accept that the search was then for your body. I will never be able to put that pain into words so I won’t even try. 

We all travelled up to Braemar on Wednesday and visited the Rescue Centre. There were teams up on the hills risking their lives for you while we were there. One of the volunteers took us out to Bob Scott’s Bothy in the Land Rover – we were all thinking of you walking the 7 miles out there in the dark with your head torch on, carrying your rucksack (and your polybag of course). We looked out at the mountains that you had looked out at, we walked the path you had walked down and I laid my head where you had laid yours.

When we got back to the centre, we had to make another statement, telling everything from your birth up until that present moment. My god dad, I never knew it was possible for one man to have so many jobs, homes and hobbies. Mum gave us all a laugh when she spoke about that year you took out of uni to live the hippie life on a croft in Badachro, growing your own vegetables and flying your kite. 

We then left the centre and met more of the rescue team – purely by chance but some might say it was meant to be. I think they could see in our tears just how much both you and their efforts mean to us. It was a special day that I know none of us will ever forget. 

Yesterday Joanna came round and brought little baby Lucas. He was like a wee light shining on us and he lifted our spirits for a while. I only wish you could have met him as I love him so much. We gave Joanna the money you left for him and she told us they’d buy something special for Lucas to keep in memory of you. (I know I said I’d buy a wee gift with the money but I never got round to it – sorry!) The same day, Susan gave me one of the most precious gifts I’ve ever received.

She shared those photos of you up at the very top of your beloved mountains. I’m so so thankful to her for showing me all those beautiful moments I would never have seen. Don’t worry dad, I’ve made sure she knows what a special friend she was to you.

Then we met Susie for the first time which was equally special. No wonder you liked her so much. Lucky for you, it’s pretty clear she feels the same way. I gave her an acorn that I picked up outside the Bothy. She filled up with tears and I could tell that she’ll cherish it. It definitely won’t be the last time we meet her. (Unless we scared her off because we told her that you called her your "potential new soulmate” after just two ‘dates’!)

On Sunday we’re finally going to meet Matt... so that will get me through tomorrow. In your absence, he has comforted me in the way that you would, so I’m going to thank him from you as I know that’s what you’d want. Dad, you wrote in a card years ago ‘I know I’m not much use to you’ and it kills me to think you ever felt that way as nothing could be further from the truth. Mum keeps reassuring me that you knew that you were so much loved and that Paul and I were both totally devoted to you.

Although only a week has passed, I know my heart will never heal completely but I’ve promised mum that we won’t fall apart. She keeps telling us ‘Your dad would be devastated to think he caused his children any pain’. I promise to look after and appreciate my brother and our mum. Mum also keeps reminding us that we are ‘your riches, your treasures, your pride and your joy’. We’re so lucky that we’ve always known that.

I'll love you forever and always x

PS. Remember when I cried because Lukasz and I got mixed up and went all the way to Neist Point instead of Camus Cross. Then I wrote you that card to tell you about it and you cried too.
Well, I’ll meet you there at the little lighthouse, the one you took me to when I was a little girl and promised that we’d go to again.

on Slioch