John was a regular on a few trips I organised to the South of France where I’d hire a house for a week to be joined by a few friends.  One of my my fondest memories was one year when I’d decided it would be nice to travel down by car and stay at campsites en-route.  Knowing John to be the outdoor type I had assumed that camping would be second nature to him, so I invited him to join me on the drive down. It turned out that he had never slept in a tent before.  Typically though, after waking with a huge puddle above him in his tiny cloche like tent - after an all night deluge, followed by a cold shower in the very basic toilet block, he remained as cheerful and stoic as ever.   Even after following an uncharacteristically poorly marked GR route and ending up on the wrong side of a ‘challenging’ ravine, he remained perfectly calm and in good humour.  Usually a man of few words unless one touched on politics, when it could get very interesting, but always good to be with.
A bit of a wicked sense of humour,  indefatigable in bad weather and always easy company.   That is how I will remember our dear friend.