Sad News

It is with great sadness that we have to tell our many friends and colleagues of the sudden and unexpected death of our great friend and Classic Journeys director, Noel Walshe. Noel passed away on the 13th June. He will be greatly missed by all who knew him.

We are missing Noel terribly and only wish we had had the chance to say something meaningful. ‘Good bye’ or ‘Thank you for being a friend’ or ‘We love you, Noel.’

John Walton, our friend and School Expedition Consultant gave the following eulogy at Noel's funeral. it is a fitting tribute.

Noel Walshe

I first met Noel 20 years ago when I was looking for an adventure travel company to cater for my needs with a group of Sixth Formers. Having travelled the length and breadth of the country visiting prospective companies, I popped in to see Ann and Noel on the way to my parents in Lincoln. I didn’t hold out much hope – 33 Metro Avenue – a front room enterprise. How right, and how wrong, I was. Yes, it was a front room, but as soon as I walked in I felt a warmth, a compassion and a sincerity I had not experienced at any of my visits to other companies. I booked my trip and now Classic Journeys have organised twenty four expeditions for me. I made the right decision that day twenty years ago and I have no regrets.

Noel joined me on the first two and proved to be the perfect companion. He wasn’t excitable, even when things went wrong, and walking up hill he never appeared to break into a sweat or breathe heavily. I hated him! His easy manner earned him the respect and admiration from the Sixth Formers in my group. Despite only approaching his mid thirties he had gone prematurely grey and bore an uncanny resemblance to John Major. En route up the Khumbu we came across a group of Israeli trekkers. Stopping for a chat we told them not to be concerned about the security men in the woods on either side of the path; John Major was on his way up the trail. Taken in hook, line and sinker, the Israelis ambushed Noel and asked for his autograph. There must be a group of bewildered Israelis somewhere wondering why John Major used the pseudonym, Noel Walshe.
Noel had a wicked sense of humour within a group, particularly a group of lively Sixth Formers, and thought nothing of playing a trick on a client or two. I remember a toilet tent collapsing around its occupant, a fly sheet being reversed while the occupants were asleep. If you dish it out you also have to be prepared to take it. Noel could. At Debouche his tent was collapsed shortly after he went to bed. Most of us would have felt the urge to get up and restore our temporary home but not Noel. He slept through the night with his tent collapsed about his body.

Most importantly for me as an expedition leader was the fact that Noel was a rock, a man who was dependable and whom I could rely on to give support when it was needed but also to take responsibility, to offer leadership when that too was needed.

Noel was a supporter of Chesterfield. I originally came from Lincoln and invariably we found Chesterfield and Lincoln City in the same lowly division. I hadn’t been to a match for thirty years when Noel suggested I travel to watch Lincoln play at Chesterfield. It was an experience I shall never forget. Chesterfield won but it made me realise that football matches are far too long; the highlights, as shown on television, are long enough. It also revealed to me, and I hope I don’t offend anybody here, that League Three football has all the freneticism of Under 11 football but only half the skill! We went to the return match in Lincoln later in the season. Lincoln won the return leg, convincingly. Whilst we did not go to many matches, they were precious moments I shall treasure.

In 2001 I was fifty, a few days after the massacre of the Nepalese Royal family. Ann and Noel phoned me that Mary Nightingale, the presenter of ITV’s ‘Wish You Were Here’ had asked them to talk about safety issues with regard to tourism in Nepal. Ann and Noel told me that they felt they couldn’t because they had a financial interest in Nepal whereas I just loved the place. I instantly agreed. Doubts crept into my mind as to the authenticity of the request. At two o’clock one morning I sat bolt upright in bed and said, “This is a stitch up!” Angela, my wife, reassured me it couldn’t possibly be, Noel wouldn’t do a thing like that. Reassured I went back to sleep, in the knowledge that Noel wouldn’t do a thing like that. The Carlton film crew duly arrived at my school on the morning of my birthday to interview me. I wouldn’t be seeing Mary Nightingale; they would be patching her in later asking the questions. I was to imagine I was talking to a mate in the pub. The filming started. If it could go wrong it went wrong. There were so many choreographed interruptions and the interview took ages. I got more and more exasperated. That turned to embarrassment when they wanted to film me in situe, teaching. When I made a mistake on the board I feared eight million people would see I couldn’t teach maths. Filming complete, the crew retreated to the pub where they filmed the questions. A few days later at my party the truth was revealed. Everybody was included in the plot and it proved to be very funny. Without Noel and Ann it could never have happened. But then Noel wouldn’t involve himself in anything like that. Revenge would have been sweet but Noel’s fiftieth slipped by quietly.

In 1993, Classic Nepal, as it was known then, was given the responsibility of organising the 40th Anniversary celebrations of the first ascent of Everest, to be held in Nepal. All the survivors of 1953 were there and Noel played a significant role in the organisation both here in the UK and out in Nepal. Before they left the UK there was a pre-trek meeting in Derbyshire. There was Noel, with Ann, telling Everest veterans what they should be taking in their kitbags for a trek in Nepal. At the end of the weekend John Hunt placed an arm around Noel’s shoulder and said, “I’m glad you are coming and looking after us.”

Out in Nepal that is just what Noel did. John Hunt was getting on in years and could no longer cope with the altitude, so had to descend to the camp at Lukla. In the village of Phakding there is a particularly interesting bridge. I know, I’ve crossed it many times. It sways freely above a thirty foot drop into the Dudh Khosi with hand rails that sag down to calf level. As John Hunt crossed the bridge, Noel held on to his shirt tail determined not to lose his precious client. He didn’t. Having looked after John Hunt, Noel had to return to the rest of the group some miles up the Khumbu. It takes a while to catch up at altitude but who should be in Lukla with a helicopter? Sir Edmund Hillary. Sir Edmund gave Noel a lift up to Thyangboche. This experience was a genuine highlight in Noel’s career as a provider of dreams.

On their return to the UK, John Hunt, who had returned earlier, was at the airport to meet them and presented Noel with a copy of his autobiography. Inside he had written, “With affection and in gratitude for your great pains in making our celebrations in Kathmandu and in Khumbu such a memorable and happy event.” Praise indeed, and justly deserved. Classic Journeys, as it later became, has been a regular donor to the Himalayan Trust UK. Having travelled many times to Nepal himself it was a cause Noel could identify with and one which could never have enough financial support.

You may be forgiven for thinking that the life of an adventure travel company director is a life of adventurous travel. Far from it. Yes, there is an element of that but in recent years Noel had become more confined to the office, by choice as much as anything else, and also by a realisation that there was just too much to do. He was a perfectionist, with such attention to detail, but he did it quietly, without complaint, dealing with airlines, ground agents in a dozen countries, making sure that the customer always got what they wanted and more. He was doing what he did so well on Saturday 13th when he was cruelly taken from us.

I am sure that many of us have said before ‘what a wonderful way to go’. Maybe it is. For Noel it was quick. He wouldn’t have known much about it. But it makes it all the harder for us left behind wishing we had had the chance to say something meaningful. ‘Good bye’ or ‘Thank you for being a friend’ or ‘We love you, Noel.’ I hope it’s not too late to say all three.