1994 Honorary Member Profile : John Dayharsh

John Dayharsh has led more than 200 trips for the Spokane Mountaineers since he signed up for the 1965 Mountain School. They span the seasons: ski and snowshoe trips in the winter; scrambles, hikes, and climbs in the spring, summer, and fall. Twenty-nine years of Kinnikinnicks reveal even a few Mt. Spokane "moonlight hikes."

It's a trip leadership record unequaled in modern club history-an average of nearly 10 per year if you subtract 1984-1985, when a job change gobbled up John's night and weekend hours. He led an average of 12 trips a year through his first 10 years.

"I got into leading trips," he explains, "when I realized if nobody agrees to be a leader, they're not scheduled. I like to go!"

Recognizing John's dedication, experience, and interest, the club put him to work as scrambling chairman late that first year. He took a break to be climbing chairman in the days when Mountain School was part of the job, and then continued as scrambling chairman for 6 of the next 8 years. You always found John on the Chalet weekend manager list. He was also a regular at work parties, and he was a Mountain School instructor. Elected vice-president in 1971-1972, John has served on the Board of 13 of his 22 active years, and was a trustee in 1968-1971, 1972-1980, and 1992-1994. He was once again elected to the Board this last month, when he was also chosen as a Spokane Mountaineer honorary member.

When speaking of John, club members use certain adjectives again and again- "responsible," "safe," "kind," knowledgeable," "considerate," "witty," "unassuming,"...."He always knows where he is, more or less, and he always gets you back," says Marion Krauss. John scouts his trips. Even when the schedule write-up says "exploratory," he's checked out the road access.

"I used to do a lot of exploration," John says. "I's spot a place on the map and go and find it. Nobody seems to do that much anymore."

He's "not too thrilled" about the big volcanoes he's topped. "It's almost like looking down on a billiard table from the summit," he says. John likes a lower viewpoint where "you can see over ridge after ridge for miles in all directions." He prefers Ibex, Brennan, Athabasca, and oft-led favorites like Gypsy, Abercrombie, Scotchman, Harrison, Twin Peaks, Hall, Three Sisters, Roman Nose, Latour Baldy ....

"John has probably walked more trails and off-trails by his lonesome than anyone realized," says Tony Dolphin (for example, last summer's solo scramble up Nevada's 13,063 foot Wheeler Peak), "and he's roamed all over the West." "But," John confesses, "it's a lot more fun going out with the group."

"He's the ideal leader," says Esther Westlund. "He's concerned about you without being overprotective. If you're lagging, he'll drop back and chat, but he'll never say, 'Are you OK? Are you going to make it?'"

Characteristically, John has many humorous memories he won't reveal. "They mostly involve the foibles of other," he explains.

Born in Stevensville, Montana, 3-year-old John came to Spokane in 1928. Two years of Bitterroot Valley apple crop freezes sent his dad, an orchard worker, to an eventual job with the Spokane Parks Department. John's mother, who taught music and languages in Palouse and Montana schools, gave piano lessons during the lean Depression years. John credits his mother with his love for music. Only on rare occasions (like the March 1980 Chalet "Drum and Bugle Potluck") have Mountaineers heard John strum his mandola. He plays mandolin and guitar, too, "primarily for my own enjoyment." Despite his mom's lessons, he abandoned the piano because of "too many thumbs." (His sister is a violinist with the Smithsonian Chamber Players.)

When he's not out tramping the hills, John's listening to his collection of mostly classical CD's or scouring libraries to feed a reading habit that focuses on history, physical geography, and Westerns. "I like to read, period!" he exclaims.

John well remembers his first trip. "I was 9. It was spring. I took my brother and a neighbor boy down the cliff to Hangman Creek. It was in flood-awe-inspiring. I really got chewed out when I got home!" His mother, though, "was an outdoor type." John relishes memories of summertime picnics at Hangman Creek. As a teenager, John roamed Browne's and Tower mountains in off-hours from Lewis and Clark High School.

Anemia from a thyroid deficiency "always made me the kid they wanted on the other team!" The draft ended his job planting trees at Galena Air Base (now Fairchild). Nine months with the Army ground forces in the Philippines immediately after World War II made him a confirmed dry-air Westerner. "I saw enough humid jungle to last for a lifetime," he says vehemently. The GI Bill took him to WSU where in 1952 he earned a degree in history with a geography minor.

His only job option was high school teaching. "But I didn't want to lead a lot of horses to water who didn't want to drink," he explains. "I drifted into the auto parts business...and stayed for 30 years." After Motor Parts "went broke," John took the maintenance position at City Hall that caused his disappearance from the club.

John has remained in the South Hill home he helped his parents buy in 1947. He cared for his mom and dad there until their deaths in 1959 and 1967, respectively. "It's probably the main reason I never married," he muses.

He doesn't think much of his leadership capabilities away from the mountains. "The Central Methodist Young Adults once elected me president," he remembers. "The group broke up a few months later."

"I've been interested in the outdoors all my life," John points out. "I would have joined the Mountaineers a lot earlier if I had realized they included people who did hiking and scrambling and not just those who hung from overhanging cliffs." He was 39 when a news article changed that image.

John no longer carries a camera. "I have slides coming out of my ears," he laughs. "My camera gave up the ghost 10 years ago and I never replaced it." And he swears the only reason he'll put on a heavy frame pack now is to get into a beautiful area that's more than a dayhike away.

"I missed the club," John says of his inactive years. "You'll notice when I retired 4 years ago, I got right back in." Since then, he's led 29 trips, served continuously on the Hiking Committee and as a Board trustee. He's back laboring at work parties and shows up with his iron pot of tasty victuals and a bottle of home-made wine at potlucks.

The future? "I'll go back to the Colorado Plateau, the Beartooth Plateau. The spring flowers are just great in the desert and southern California! I've been out scouting along the Idaho-Montana border." And, he admits, "I wouldn't mind doing Athabasca again..."

Lorna Ream