I first met Sean Villanueva O’Driscoll at Stapylton Campground in Gariwerd/Grampians in the rapidly receding tidal wave of the Millenium Bug panic back in 2000, when we were all asking, ‘What was it we were worried about again?’
Sean was a floppy-haired 19-year-old at the end of a world climbing trip, his elbows riddled with tendonitis brought about by an insatiable appetite for climbing that didn’t include rest days. He had a curious accent that reflected his half-Irish, half-Belgian heritage, although we all liked to take the piss out of him and insist that he was half-French, half-American, which he hated, a fact that only encouraged us to be even more obnoxious.
Back then Sean was a super-talented sport climber who could onsight 29 (which was relatively rare at the time, certainly in Oz), although he also had a streak of boldness. I wasn’t there the day he did it, but on a whim he onsight soloed the first ascent of the big face opposite Ammagamma at the Citadel, apparently only just stringing the line together – which must be at least 12-15m high and probably around grade 25.
All those years ago Sean had an irrepressible, infectious enthusiasm for life, and nothing has changed. Since that longago Gariwerd trip he
