Josep Manuel Anglada

Josep Manuel Anglada i Nieto left this world on April 24, 2026, just shy of his 93rd birthday, but his spirit will forever linger on the crags and valleys he loved so dearly. I first met Josep when I was a wide‑eyed teenager, clutching a borrowed rope and dreaming of the Pyrenees. He greeted me with a grin that could melt the coldest stone and a steady hand that guided me up my very first summit. From that day on, every climb became a lesson in humility, humor, and the simple joy of sharing a sunrise with a friend. He’d often pause halfway up a ridge, pull out a tiny tin of marmalade, and offer a slice of toast to anyone who’d listen to his stories about an old goat that once “mistook me for a mountain goat” and tried to join the ascent. Family was the anchor of Josep’s life, though he never missed a chance to bring that same warmth to his fellow climbers. His wife, Maria, was his steadfast partner in both life and on the trail; together they raised three wonderful children—Lluís, Marta, and young Carlos—who inherited their father's love of the outdoors. Sunday afternoons at the family home were a blend of laughter, paella, and impromptu map‑reading sessions where Josep would point to distant peaks and say, “One day, you’ll stand there and feel the wind as I have.” He taught his grandchildren how to tie a perfect bowline knot, and his great‑grandchildren now swear they can hear his voice echoing from the mountain passes whenever they hear the wind whistle through the pines. Mountaineering was more than a sport for Josep; it was a language he used to speak to the world. Whether scaling the rugged faces of the Montserrat or leading a daring winter ascent in the Alps, he did it with a quiet confidence that inspired everyone around him. In 2025, he was honored with the Creu de Sant Jordi, a testament not just to his climbing achievements but to his generosity—he spent countless weekends teaching novices, organizing rescue drills, and advocating for the preservation of Spain’s natural heritage. Many of us still carry his notebook, filled with sketches of routes and marginalia that read, “The mountain doesn’t care about our plans; it only cares about our respect.” Josep’s legacy is a tapestry woven from rope knots, family love, and the countless footprints he left on stone. He taught us that the summit is not a destination but a moment shared with those we cherish. As we gather to remember him, we will raise our glasses, share his favorite stories, and feel the familiar rush of wind that once guided his ascent. Thank you, Josep, for showing us how to climb with courage, laugh with humility, and love with an open heart. You will forever be the steady hand on the rope, the warm fire after a long day, and the voice that reminds us to keep looking up.