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The son of the late Ruth (Egger) Mason and the late former Easton (MA) Selectman Lewis R. Mason, Dave was the husband of Marilyn (Gagne) Mason, then aged 29, and the father of 3 children: Mary, David and Gerard, who at that time were aged 10, 9, and 6, respectively.

On the 5th day of the expedition, Rev. Mason plunged to his death while descending Peak Albert (16,690 ft), after having successfully climbed to the top of Peak Margherita, the tallest of the Ruwenzori peaks (16,763 ft). He was buried on the mountain by Dave Downing, a fellow missionary and mountain climbing partner.

5 rolls of film in his pockets survived the fall because they were stored in metal cannisters and those photographs -- together with those taken by Dave Downing -- provide a pictorial record of his last five days.

Date of accident: 23 May 1973

Time of accident: 3:15 p.m.

We arose at 6:00 a.m. the morning of 23 May in the Gîte de la Moraine. Following a hurried breakfast and final preparations we set out on our assault on the two peaks of Albert and Margherita at 7:00 a.m. We crossed the rocky saddle from the Moraine to the base of the Alexandra Glacier. The traverse of the lower portion of the Glacier took 1 1/4 hours on frozen surface. Weather conditions were perfect: clear and without a trace of cloud. We were following an established trail leading toward the Stuhlmann Pass between Mt. Stanley and Mt. Speke.

After descending into the valley below the upper end of Alexandra Glacier we left the trail and climbed up to a small glacier, name unknown to me, and rested at the top of this glacier, which is on the North face of the Albert peak. The time was 10:00 a.m.; the altimeter reading was 4,700 meters. Conditions were still perfect: clear and dry. The sun was shining brightly.

After a thirty minute rest the German tourist who was climbing with us, Mr. Elmar Klesse, decided to turn back. He was fatigued and had no reserve strength. I was slightly sick from the altitude and wished to return to the Moraine with Mr. Klesse, but Mr. Mason wanted to continue the climb. I commend his ambition, his strength, physical condition and his determination. I knew that Mr. Klesse had all the rest of the day to return to the Moraine, so I chose to stay with Mr. Mason. I followed him up the North face of Peak Albert and his determination gave me much courage. Mr. Mason reached the summit of Peak Albert at 12:30 p.m. and I joined him at 1:00 p.m.

We rested until 1:15 p.m. and then made the traverse to Peak Margherita together, connected by rope. The traverse took twenty minutes. After some further rest and photographing of the beautiful scenery we placed our personal flag and returned to Peak Albert. The traverse again took twenty minutes. The time was 2:30 p.m., visability since 1:00 p.m. had been generally 200 meters. At Peak Albert we rested for fifteen minutes, made further photographs and began our descent at 2:45 p.m.

By mutual decision I was carrying the pitons, ice screws and hammer. Mr. Mason was carrying the rope. We also decided that I would lead the way down and that we would remain within five to six meters of each other at all times. In such event that I would need the rope I would wait for him to come to me. In such event that he felt he needed a piton or other object I was carrying I would make my way back to him. We further decided that he would warn me loudly in case he dislodged any rocks above my head. Our descent went well in continued good conditions, dry and in bright sunlight.

At 3:10 p.m. visibility suddenly became bad - 30 to 50 meters - and a light rain fell. We continued our descent. Mr. Mason asked me if all was well and I responded that all was "A-O.K." During the course of our descent Mr. Mason naturally dislodged small pebbles from time to time, but never did he need to warn me of dangerous rock falls. A few minutes after the rain started I heard noise above and looked up. There were numerous stones the size of a fist falling. I took protective action, covering my head and crouching into the crevice I was in. One rock hit my backpack and several glanced off my lower legs. None caused injury. I looked up again to see if there were any more stones coming and I saw the most dreaded sight of a mountain climber. The body of my climbing partner was about five meters above me in mid air in the initial form of a somersault. My first impression was that he had tied onto the rope and was jumping down to the ledge where I was standing, for it was a relatively large ledge.

In an instant I realized that he was not jumping, but falling. I prayed that God would give him a good landing surface just below me. In the next few moments I heard six successive thumping sounds of the body in contact with rock, then silence that was broken only by the light rain drops on the rocks around me. I prayed again for my friend and asked God to preserve his life if it was His will. I prayed too for David's family, and I prayed that God would give me the wisdom to know what to do during those next few hours.

I descended slowly, attempting as best I could, to follow the trail of his fall, as there were items of his belongings left along the way at each contact point. Approximately 100 meters below the first fall I found his hat and the rope. At exactly this point I needed the rope in order to let myself down a ten meter drop. Sometime later I again had to use the rope to lower myself down twenty meters to the upper extreme of the glacier on which the body came to final rest. The total elapsed time from the initial fall until the time I was able to reach the body was one and one half hours.

By my own estimate the tumbling fall over rock was approximately three hundred meters and the sliding on glacier was about one hundred meters. When I reached the body at 4:45 p.m. I photographed the remains and made an attempt to carry the body back to the Moraine, but my strength was sapped and I was unable to support the weight. Being unable to return the body to camp I proceeded to prepare a grave among the rocks at the Northeast base of the glacier. Following a brief religious service I gathered the few items that I had collected and packed them onto my pack and set off for the Moraine. The time was 5:30 p.m. and the weather conditions were again good. The rain had stopped at 4:00 and the sun was again shining.

With considerable difficulty, resulting mainly from fatigue, I was able to reach the upper extremity of the lower Alexandra Glacier at 7:00 p.m. I traversed the glacier without difficulty, but the return across the saddle from the glacier to the Moraine was extremely difficult by flashlight. I finally left some of my goods behind and reached the gîte at about 8:30 p.m.

I prepared a light supper and went to bed about 9:00 p.m. and to sleep at 9:30. Rain blowing into the gîte awoke me at 3:00 a.m. but I then slept again until 7:30. I prepared a cup of tea, packed the baggage and left the gîte at 9:30 a.m., reaching Kiondo Gîte at 12:00 noon. The porters, whom I had met at Lac Vert, returned at 2:00 p.m. with the baggage and I made a full report to Guide Maiyamoto. He in turn made a written report of the accident to the Conservator and Kitambala II delivered this report to the Conservator at his office in Mutsora that same evening, 24 May 1973.

Signature

I had seen Dave Downing once since the accident (I drove out to Detroit to see him), so this was not my first meeting with him, but this was my first opportunity to see his pictures and have him point out each detail of the climb. It now felt like there were 4 participants in the events of May 23rd. Dave Downing and Dave Mason, the climbers; God, the all-knowing observer of the events back in real-time, as well as at this moment; and me, in playback fashion, finally getting my chance to "be there". I was very thankful for this opportunity - a gift from God. These events have surely affected my everyday life in every way, but I might have been deprived of the opportunity of observing them had even a few things happened differently. Had Dave Downing also died, there would be absolutely no recording of the happenings. Had the film of both men been damaged or lost, there would be no pictorial record. Instead, God placed in our hands a verbal and a pictorial accounting of the entire trip. That's all the indication I need in order to know that God wants this story told. He's given us everything we need.

The photographic slides that were already set up in the carousel were much like those of my Dave's. There were a few spectacular shots of the view and of my Dave that were unique and I arranged to get copies of them for my collection. Then it appeared that Dave Downing was finished, but I wasn't. I had heard that he had a few pictures of my Dave's body after the accident. That was how Dave's death had been authenticated with the American Consulate in Zaïre. I casually asked if those were all he had. He admitted that he had a few others that I wouldn't want to see. I got it across to him that I wasn't leaving the room until I saw them. Hesitatingly, and with tender care (as if he were handling precious jewels), he placed them in the carousel. His wife Diane and their children had been in the room up until that time, but Dave made them leave for these. I drew the drapes extra tight to keep out the bright sunlight. I didn't want to miss a detail.

The first of the pictures showed the site of Dave's first impact on the snow, which was heavily discolored by Dave's blood.

Another showed a snowplow effect in the snow, as Dave's body -- after final impact -- was decelerating and coming to a stop.

The next showed the same - only this time, Dave's crumpled form was visible in the foreground. It was the end of the line for Dave.

The next zeroed in on Dave's complete, twisted form. His positioning was unreal.

The last one, however, really did something to me. I did not cry during this whole time. It's not that I was trying to be brave or anything - I just didn't feel like crying. Instead, I felt an overwhelming sense of pride come over me. Pride for Dave. Here was a shot of Dave's battered head and face. Here was a beaten soldier. It took this much to still him. He was a fighter, but who could survive such injury? Not even Dave, the former High School football captain, the U.S. Forestry Service worker in Oregon, the U.S. Army man in Alaska, the insurance adjuster, the champion weightlifter, the Massachusetts State Policeman, the avid sports fisherman, the night laborer at Polaroid while he was a student at college by day, the Medical Technologist, the Inner City missionary, the ordained minister, the foreign missionary, the son, the brother, the husband, the father, the son-in-law, the brother-in-law. I was proud of who he was and what he had done with his life. Since I had known him, Dave had fought many fights, climbed many spiritual mountains - and won. It finally hit me that his fighting days were over. He was at rest. He was at peace. He was a son of the King, and he had won the only thing that counts at all - eternal life.

It's been said of the Apostle Paul that he never did things in a small way. His conversion was spectacular, his ministry was spectacular, even his death was out of the ordinary. Welshman George Thomas, a past Speaker of the House of Commons in England once said that Paul did everything in capital letters. That's how I look back on Dave's life. Not that he chose it that way. Not that he went out of his way to make it happen that way. But it did happen that way. I don't understand it myself, but I sense that God is doing a bigger thing than any of us can comprehend this side of eternity.

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