The story behind ‘the backstory’: Remembering David Virta

The Seattle Times’ Pacific NW magazine in October published my story on a collection of fall hikes. It was a nice, 12-page spread designed by the magazine’s art director, David Miller and edited by Bill Reader, the mag’s editor. “D-Mill” and I worked together at The Times for more than 30 years, Bill and I for about 20 years.

In assigning this story, Bill also asked me to write a “backstory,” a short page 2 piece that usually accompanies the front-page story. It’s supposed to offer some insight about the author and the “story behind the story.” Well, here’s a backstory to the backstory.

In the backstory for The Times, I wrote about my introduction to backpacking that we remember several decades ago as “The Starvation Hike,” a 55-mile slog through Olympic National Park that unexpectedly whetted my appetite for a lifetime of hiking. The unnamed family in the article was the Virtas, who became lifelong friends with my family beginning in the 1960s. The “other family” in the story responsible for food planning? They will remain nameless.

My dad was a banker for Seattle First National Bank. In 1963 he was transferred from the Mount Vernon branch to Monroe. We met the Virta family at the church we began attending. I instantly became best buds with the Virtas’ oldest son, David. We shared a love of sports – first and foremost – and just seemed to bond on every level.

But our time in Monroe was short-lived. In 1966 my dad was transferred, yet again, this time to the Sea-First branch in Sedro-Woolley. The day my dad broke the news at the dinner table we were moving from Monroe I broke down and cried. I had just finished the fourth grade. David was my best friend.

Despite being separated by an hour’s drive, our families remained good friends. In high school, David was quite the football player at Monroe, while my basketball-playing career was more modest at Sedro. We would occasionally hook up in Seattle to watch our beloved SuperSonics, or attend a UW game.

When it came time for college, David went to Seattle Pacific, I to North Park College in Chicago. Still, we managed to find time to get together. He was always kind and gentle, and loved to laugh. When Vicki and I were married in 1977, David was one of my groomsmen. We saw each other as often as we could in our adult years, even though we sometimes lived in different states.

Then in the mid-1980s, David was admitted to UW Hospital. Surgeons removed a suspicious-looking mole on his back. He was diagnosed with melanoma. I visited him at the hospital. Still, everything seemed to be fine.

Several years later, I got a call from his parents. The melanoma cancer had spread to other parts of his body. December of 1997 was the last time I saw him. I visited him at his folks’ Monroe home, where he was in hospice care. Hooked up with tubes, and struggling to breath, he couldn’t really communicate with me. But he was fully aware of my presence and what I was saying to him. I don’t remember everything I said to him on that day. But I did tell him I loved him, and that he was the best friend I ever had. It was emotional.

David would pass away a couple weeks later, 24 years ago this month (December). He was just 44 years old. I spoke at his funeral. Sadly, not even three years later, David’s dad, Bob, died from the same aggressive cancer.

So as I wrote the “backstory” piece for the hiking story, not only was I thankful for the lifelong friendship with the Virta family that introduced me to backpacking, I was also thankful for the big, gentle man in the family who would become my best friend. I still miss him to this day.

Here is a link to the “backstory”: https://www.seattletimes.com/pacific-nw-magazine/those-first-meals-on-the-trail-were-mighty-skimpy-but-backpacking-feeds-the-soul-for-a-lifetime/