Andy and I were direct colleagues for a only short time, but anyone meeting Andy would quickly see what a big heart he had and how much he loved life. Whether it was climbing, wing chun, or triathlon he threw himself whole-heartedly into everything he did, with a zest and excitement that was tangible. He also loved nature. I’ll never forget a hilarious couple of days walking with Andy in May 2005, in unexpected winter conditions. The jingling of a camping kettle woke me ludicrously early on the first morning and I stuck my head out of my tent to find Andy brewing up tea and doing exercises and running on the spot next to his. He explained that leaving a balmy spring Suffolk, he’d remembered only his one season sleeping bag and it was now well below freezing! Still, we got out on the hill early, and walked and scrambled our way across the Moelwyns on pristine, benign snow and onto Snowdon via the Watkin path, whereupon Andy spent at least twenty minutes attempting to coax a gul to approach him for a portrait photograph. He did that a lot – whether taking closeup pictures of dripping moss, studies of a myriad of tiny plants, or capturing big landscapes which clearly captivated him. We walked down the rocky South ridge above the biggest cornices I have ever seen in the UK outside of Scotland. It was a brilliant day and how I will always remember Andy.