When David Whalley was just four years old his father, a man of the cloth, took him from their Ayr home to Arran where they climbed Goat Fell.

The hike laid the foundations for a deeply spiritual connection; not so much with the almighty – despite his father’s calling - but with the majestic beauty of Mother Nature.

It set him on course for a life in the great outdoors. In defiance of his slight frame – seven stones and 5ft 4ins – he earned the nickname ‘Heavy’ Whalley, served with the RAF Mountain Rescue Service for almost 40 years, scaled mountains around the world, and bagged every munro several times over.

On the way, he witnessed the horrors of Lockerbie and the Mull of Kintyre helicopter crash and sacrificed huge chunks of his time and mental wellbeing to search the hills for others. Some had happier endings than others.

David Whalley was given a devastating diagnosis in MarchDavid Whalley was given a devastating diagnosis in March (Image: David Whalley)

Now the man who made it his life’s mission to rescue others - he was involved in more than 1,000 mountain rescues  - is in the grip of his own uphill struggle, and bravely contemplating the final chapter of his own life.

Diagnosed with stage four liver disease in March, he received devastating news he might have just nine months to live.

Having spent so long in the shadow of death, life has become more precious than ever.

Six months since that diagnosis and after a spell ‘confined to barracks’ as his health deteriorated, treatment for a lingering infection meant last weekend he was able to put on his hiking boots again for a brief return to his beloved Cairngorms.

It was bitter-sweet: he knows that any time he steps over the threshold of his home at Burghead near Elgin in Moray, might be the last.
“I didn’t go far,” he stresses, although it was a hike that took nearly four hours and might be a challenge even for some who don’t share his health problems.

“I haven’t got the strength now, but just to go out on hills again was like being given a powerful drug.

“The hills are my life.”

The walk took him through remnants of ancient Caledonian forest on the outskirts of Aviemore, on familiar paths to An Lochan Uaine – the green loch – and Meall a' Bhuachaille.

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At 810m, it was a far cry from his trek to advanced base camp on Everest and a peaceful world away from the dreadful scenes that greeted him and his team in the wake of the Lockerbie bombing.

He documented the walk on his blog: “It was special to be out in a place I love,” he wrote. “I cannot believe that I would be here again. Thank you all.”

That and a recent day out to Dingwall to watch Ross County play Dundee – another mini-adventure he never dared to think he’d do again - have brought fresh zest after a particularly bleak period.

David Whalley on a recent outing to a Ross County matchDavid Whalley on a recent outing to a Ross County match (Image: David Whalley)

“I collapsed at a friend’s house around ten days ago,” he explains. “I was going downhill. I said about a month ago I wasn’t going to make it, then ‘bang!’

“It turned out I had a urine infection; I took antibiotics and now I’ve got a bit of colour and a bit of the energy that I used to have.

“Just to go into the Cairngorms again was wonderful. It has opened my horizons again, but I have to be careful.

“My body has to tell my head that I’m not the same person that I was.

“I should be dead,” he says, matter of fact. “But right now, I’m going well.”

His pragmatic response to the worst news possible may well be a lesson to the rest of us on how to live and die with grace.

He knew something was wrong as far back as the pandemic: there was a niggling cough and unexplained drop in weight.

He now wonders if his stage four liver disease might be linked to long term steroids prescribed for psoriasis long thought to have been a physical response to the stress and trauma of his search and rescue work.

He broke the news of his illness in the blog he has religiously updated since 2011, in a post entitled: “The dark journey starts”.

It was made even more poignant, coming amid a flood of congratulations as he was named the 16th recipient of Fort William Mountain Festival's Scottish Award for Excellence in Mountain Culture.

“It’s easy to fall into depression and waiting for the Grim Reaper,” he wrote.

“I have dark days and losing my strength is hard to accept.

“My balance is poor and my coughing drives me mad. I have shaky hands and (am) a bit wobbly on my feet. The pain at times is so nagging and sleep is extremely poor.

“You have to live every day and get on with life.”

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It heralded what he now calls his “death clearance” and episode which may sound challenging but has turned out to be remarkably  cathartic.

“When they said in March you have about nine months, immediately I started to get organised,” he says.

“I got a solicitor to make sure things were okay and I started my death clearance.

“I have thousands of books which I gave away.

“I looked at my clothes and thought ‘I don’t need all of this’. It went to charity shops.

“People were saying to me ‘you can’t just give that away’ and  I’d say ‘I’m not going to use it’.

“It’s amazing what stuff you have that you really don’t need.”

Technical equipment he’d kept for the hills was sold. It raised around £1000 which he gave to Search and Rescue Dog Association Scotland, of which he was President.

 

David Whalley has had a lifelong love affair with Scotland's mountainsDavid Whalley has had a lifelong love affair with Scotland's mountains (Image: David Whalley)

An electric bike, bought pre-diagnosis with a view to enjoying future outings and a symbol of how life can change in the blink of an eye, was also moved on.

As was the faithful projector and screen he used to share his skills and experiences to audiences who’d hang on every word.

“I got joy out of giving that away,” he reflects.

There have also been tearful conversations with his close friend, Kalie, and stepdaughters Dianne and Yvette, over what should happen after his death.

For someone so connected to the outdoors, they don’t involve being planted in a special place with a stone to make his final spot or having his ashes scattered to the four winds.

Instead, his body will continue his life’s work of helping others: it will be donated to medical science.

“I have been accepted, my body will go to Aberdeen. I have done a lot of work with various hospitals in my life, so I feel good about that.

“I’ve talked with people close to me and said ‘look I’m going to be dead, and this helps people’.

“I feel it’s good to have that acceptance.”

David Whalley served with RAF Mountain Rescue for more than 40 yearsDavid Whalley served with RAF Mountain Rescue for more than 40 years (Image: David Whalley)

There have been periods of deep reflection, and moments when it does become too much: recalling his stepdaughter’s young children and the tender care they take to make sure he’s well wrapped up and looked after, and the thought of leaving them is particularly painful.

As the weeks roll by he is also looking back at life through a different lens. There were times, for example, when he questioned his decision to retired aged 55 with the financial challenges that brought. Now, he’s grateful he stopped when he did.

“Life is short and it’s easy to fall into the trap of working on but, really, no one is indispensable,” he says.

“I have regrets,” he continues. “I never got married, I was always chasing my dreams.

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“At least I can say I am still friends with all my ex-girlfriends, but I’ve come to realise what a selfish bugger I was.”

And, despite witnessing the aftermath of the Lockerbie bombing and the awful misery humans can inflict on each other, recent events and care he’s received have convinced him people the world over share a common thread.

“Most people, probably 99% of people, are wonderful. They are kind and caring, and we forget that when there’s so much bad news.”

Some might turn to religion as the end nears, but for Heavy Whalley, all the spiritual support he needs is outside his door.

David Whalley was involved in more than 1,000 mountain rescue incidentsDavid Whalley was involved in more than 1,000 mountain rescue incidents (Image: David Whalley)

“I’m not religious, I have no problem with people who are.

“In places like Everest, the local people and they are religious for nature, for its power and its beauty.

“I see beauty in everything. There’s a lovely walk near me, the beach is lovely, there’s the forest.

“I don’t feel bitter.

“I have had some life. And that’s why I’m happy.”

David Whalley in his beloved mountainsDavid Whalley in his beloved mountains (Image: David Whalley)

He would prefer to have control over his final days and choice. Despite the courage he’s shown in a lifetime on the hills, he insists he’s not that brave.

“I don’t want to die,” he adds.

“I’m the biggest coward you will ever meet - that’s why I stayed alive on the mountains for as long.

“So, I’m going to keep going as long as I can.”