Tribute to a Friend
By Howard Heffler

        I am honoured to have been so close to Peter Dickey for almost 30 years, since we met in the early 1980s when he became manager of safety and environment at Shell Canada. However, my true friendship and comradeship revolved around our time together in the outdoors.
         My wife, Lyn, is from Australia, so I am almost fluent in both languages: the Auzzie term is “mateship.” Peter Dickey was my mate.
         Peter S. Dickey was born on May 18, 1938, and died from cancer on December 6, 2009. He will be remembered with love by his wife Heather; his son Mark and wife, Dana; his daughter Melissa and her husband, Peter with their two children, Liam and Maia.
         Peter graduated from Queen’s University in 1966 with a BSc degree in mechanical engineering. From 1966 to 1994, he worked for Shell Canada in a number of engineering positions involving refinery and oilsands facilities design, operations and maintenance. He also coordinated the company’s energy conservation efforts in the mid-70s.
         The environmental community got to know Peter between 1982 and 1994 after he was named Shell’s corporate manager of safety and environment. Following retirement from Shell, Peter went on to the role of consultant – first to TransAlta Corporation and then to others – offering expert advice about sustainable development and climate change.
         Peter also served as a volunteer to the Pembina Institute and to his condominium association. He also was extremely helpful on our Parks Foundation project to replace the deadly drowning weir on the Bow River in Calgary with a safe, navigable facility that will transform the area into a new river park for Calgary.
         Peter took the lead in nominating Jim Leslie (2000), Barry Worbets (2001) and Phil Lulman (2004) in their awards from the Emerald Foundation. In 2007, Peter was similarly honoured with the Emerald Award for Corporate or Institutional Leadership.
 Peter was also an associate of the International Institute for Sustainable Development (IISD), based in Winnipeg. In congratulating him on receiving the Emerald Award, IISD chief executive David Runnalls and John Drexhage, director of IISD’s climate change and energy program, credited Peter with the establishment and much of the success of that program.
         “I have long benefited from Peter’s wise counsel and down-to-earth advice on climate change and energy issues,” Runnalls said.
         Peter also contributed as chair of the Pembina Institute’s charitable arm, the Gaia Foundation, where his ability to network with numerous groups and individuals was cherished by many people there who have expressed their appreciation for his mentorship.
         He was also a major contributor, with Jim Leslie, to the process of building Climate Change Central as well as the Engaged Group of Companies – a group of progressive companies seeking to address, sustainably, the most critical issues of both the environment and the economy.
         I recalled Peter’s many contributions as I looked at a collection of nomination letters to the Emerald Awards committee. These letters were thoughtfully compiled into a booklet by Gord Lambert, vice-president of sustainable development with Suncor. They are a tribute to the universal respect Peter gained as a friend and mentor.
         I also looked at the letters of condolences and memory that formed part of the celebration to Peter’s life held on December 11, 2009.
         But mostly I looked at my photo albums. Since 1984, Peter has had a starring role in the movie of my life. There are pictures of Lyn and me hiking with Peter and Heather, with the larger family groups in every possible combination, and with many different friends. But mostly there is just him and me: doing something, somewhere in the outdoors.
         What began as occasional day trips to the mountains for hiking or skiing grew to become frequent multi-day outings over much of western Canada. We spent hundreds of days together in the outdoors. Hiking. Mountaineering. Skiing. Canoeing. Sea kayaking. Peter was always up for an adventure. Each year we had a tradition of taking the first week in September to go on a trip somewhere.
         The first was a week-long backpacking trip from Connor Lakes north of Elkford, B.C. to Kananaskis Country via Mount Abruzzi and several passes along the way we had read about in a book.
         The second day was pretty “full-on” when we climbed Mount Abruzzi. It was a long way up the glacier before we reached the top which was (typical of our outings) largely hidden in fog. We barely had enough visibility to see that the ridge I proposed to descend was not a good idea.
         My planned route was based on reading the map. I could see that the contour lines were close together. But when we saw the route in real life, Peter said something like, “OK, so what’s your plan B?”
         First we had to get off the glacier and negotiate a couple of cliff bands. At this point, my plan B involved putting in an ice screw and rappelling down a short cliff wearing full packs, so Peter recommended we move to plan C.
         The next bit involved scrambling down a few hundred vertical feet of snow-covered boulders (Plan D). By the time we bushwacked to some level ground, we were only ready for our soup and diving straight into the tent.  

        When got over Elk Pass and into Kananaskis Country five days later, we were up to (or “down to,” depending on your point of view) plan X or Z. Never once was there a complaint from Peter or a hesitation to do what needed to be done. We both knew then that we could count on the other guy.
         Since that time, we canoed the Bowren Lakes in northern B.C., paddled a couple of rivers in northern Saskatchewan, sea-kayaked on the West Coast a couple of times and backpacked many times. And that’s not counting the dozens of short jaunts around Calgary.
         I hinted above at our reputation for encountering bad weather. A group of guys got together when Peter retired from Shell. My contribution was a series of photos of us in bad weather.
         While it might appear that the rain clouds followed us around, we felt that if you go out there enough, you are bound to hit a few rainy days. That was Peter’s power of positive thinking. Never did he complain about the weather. It was just another thing to deal with.
         In addition to fog on the top of Mount Abruzzi, I remember: six days of continuous rain on a walk to Mount Robson; skiing on the Wapta Glacier in a whiteout; sleeping (or trying to) in a tent on top of Roberson Col (9,600 feet elevation), with the wind so strong we used the climbing rope to hold down the tent; and looking out the door of the tent in the morning in St. Mary’s Alpine Park to see six inches of new snow.
         Once we hiked in a fearsome wind along a mountain ridge, just to see if we could do it. Peter’s comment was always: “I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.”
         If I was limited to one word to describe Peter, it would be “strength.” His strength of body was obvious to everyone who met him. They also quickly came to appreciate his strength of mind and character. Some folks also encountered his strength of will when they thought some task was too difficult.
         However, his strength of spirit was his true strength. Peter was unrelentingly positive and optimistic. And he made people around him feel the same way. I saw it at the other end of the climbing rope or in the bow of my canoe. Others saw it in the corporate boardroom. Peter made the difficult easy, and the impossible achievable.
         I, too, looked to Peter in my corporate role. Many times I went for a walk at lunch time to ask: “What is Shell planning to do about this?” Or: “How do you think I should handle . . .?” Without exception, Peter offered helpful mentoring. His magic formula was not to tell you what to do or to tell you what he would do, but to allow you to discover the path yourself. There are many people in the environmental community who have benefited from this sage guidance.
         Peter’s indomitable strength was again demonstrated when he was diagnosed with cancer in 2006. While good medicine and family support played a big role, we all believe that it was Peter’s positive attitude that overcame what seemed to be a dire prognosis. Family and friends were overcome with joy when he defeated the monster, and was declared “cured” within one year.
         When cancer returned so suddenly and with such a vengeance on December 1 last year, Peter was immediately building his resolve to deal with it again. I saw him a couple of days before he died. At that time, he still looked and talked not like someone in the hospital, but like he was ready to run out onto the football field.
         Peter took up downhill skiing relatively late in life, but – not surprisingly – he quickly became the best skier and the leader of that group, too. I joined his heli-skiing group a couple of times and they all looked to Peter as “the man.”
         I recall at the end of one day, standing with Peter and the guide at the bottom of the mountain while Peter asked the guide if we could all do “just one more run.” The guide pointed up to the slope that was littered with the rest of the party in various stages of exhaustion and said he thought we should call it a day.
          I have so many memories of our times together. They will last me a lifetime. It is sad that Peter will not be here to share them with me. Even though we were beginning to admit that the mountains were getting steeper each year, we both thought we had a few good miles left in us yet.
Howard Heffler is on EnviroLine’s Alberta Advisory Board and has worked as an environmental manager in the upstream petroleum and pipeline industry since 1975. He has led Parks Foundation Calgary’s initiative to replace the drowning hazard at the Bow River weir and is Chairman of the Board of RiverWatch.