Rudolf Edmund 'Ted' Cais
12 November 1947 — 20 December 2019
Ted in fine form at Frog Buttress in 1998 (Michael Meadows collection)
From his first tentative steps on to the rock as a teenager in south-east Queensland in 1960 until he emigrated to the USA in 1974, Ted Cais pushed Australian climbing standards to new heights. Although not as adept at — or indeed as interested in — marketing his personal achievements like some of his peers, he nevertheless leaves behind an unforgettable legacy of bold and visionary climbing routes, but perhaps more importantly, layers of camaraderie and personal experience that extend well beyond climbing into everyday life.
Perhaps the major influence on Ted's early life was his father, Rudi, who fled Czechosolvakia as a university student when the Nazis invaded during World War II. He fought in the free Czech forces before escaping to England to join a tank regiment and it was there that he met Ted's mother, Joy. They married and moved back to Prague after the war where Ted was born in an army hospital. But when the communists took control of the country in 1948, life became difficult for Rudi because of his background. It was then that they managed to emigrate to Australia where Ted — who would be their only child — recalled days living on a cattle station in Queensland’s Gulf Country:
There I had a gentle old mare to ride about on, bare backed of course, lethal snakes to avoid, giant spiders dropping off the ceiling at night, crocodiles lurking in the fresh-water creek, hot sand with bindi-eye stickers to cross barefoot, brilliant stars like never before or since, and suffocating, humid heat. The galvanized iron roof would creak and crack ominously at night during contraction after the blazing sub-tropical sun set. There was no electricity so our lighting was by acetylene lamps; a primitive outpost that by its very nature built self-reliance.
In 1955, the Cais family moved to Brisbane where Rudi — a skilled carpenter — built the family a house at Mt Gravatt, then on the fringes of the capital. Ted's father worked as a taxi driver for most of his life in Brisbane. He was a voracious reader and could debate anyone on almost any topic from economics to the Markoff chain — a mathematical probability theory that started Ted off on his own successful career as a research chemist. Rudi was a brilliant chess player — teaching Ted the art — and on Sundays when a group (including expatriate British climber Les Wood) would gather at the Cais family home — then at West End — Rudi would deliver food to them every few hours while he played chess with up to six different opponents simultaneously. It was around this time — the mid-1960s — that climbing started to feature more prominently in Ted's life. But in his own words, his interest in outdoor adventures began some years earlier with a chance meeting:
Around 1960 I was introduced to Bert (Albert Armitage) Salmon who kindly passed on his trove of knowledge about the Glass House Mountains, Scenic Rim and walking tracks around the Binna Burra and O'Reilly's lodges on the Lamington Plateau. Walking was a simple affair, outfitted with an army surplus canvas satchel and sandshoes. We had no GPS, cell phone, walking poles, rescue choppers or other conveniences now deemed necessary for a safe outdoors experience. Our bush icons were Bernard O'Reilly and Arthur Groom, and I still have their classic books, Green Mountains and Cullenbenbong and One Mountain After Another. They were early recreational explorers naturally imbued with a love of the land and rugged pioneer spirit so thought little of heading off solo into the unknown with just a few supplies on their back. We were slightly better equipped through Paddy Pallin whose gear was available at the Scout Shop in the Valley although not as cheap as army surplus. Canvas and cotton (waxed or oiled) were still the best materials at the time and I remember my first Hotham down bag that ensured toasty nights.
Undoubtedly influenced by Salmon, on 9 October 1960 — a few weeks before his 13th birthday — Ted made a solo ascent of Crookneck's steep, loose, crumbling North Face. It was the first ascent route by Harry Mikalsen in 1910 and this information would have almost certainly been passed on by Salmon. Ted recalls the moment:
My dad knew Czechoslovakian emigre farmers who scrabbled an existence out of a pineapple farm in the Glasshouse mountains and we often visited them. Something about the gnarly scowl and impressive rock wave feature shimmering through the heat haze halfway up Crookneck's north-west side proved irresistible. The basic desire was not so much technical rock gymnastics but getting to the summit of these enigmatic rock monoliths. After all, I had to find out what was on top! I repeated this solo ascent at least five more times and the most memorable one was just after a bushfire had raged over the entire mountain rendering the grass trees along the summit ridge into smouldering blackened stumps. They survived of course and will outlast all of us. To this day the scent of burning bush has a most evocative effect.
Climbing as a teenager in the Glass House Mountains (Ted Cais collection)
His first climb with Bert Salmon was the East Face of Beerwah in the Glass House Mountains on 14 October 1961. Over the next several years, Salmon introduced the eager young adventurer to all of the easily accessible summits in south-east Queensland. But by 1964, Ted began to drift away from his mentor’s influence. He joined the YMCA Ramblers bushwalking club to continue his fascination with south-east Queensland crags and to extend his climbing skills on the Kangaroo Point training cliffs using a safety rope — something Salmon frowned upon as unethical. During his undergraduate years, he joined the influential University of Queensland Bushwalking Club (UQBWC) where he met others who would help to shape his pathway into climbing:
I also teamed up with Craig Rowley and Dennis Stocks for ascents of the Mast [The Steamers] and Glennies [Pulpit] and later climbed with Hugh Pechey who was president of the Brisbane Rockclimbing Club in 1965. Bert’s legacy stayed with me for some time but in some respects inhibited my development since it was hard to lead the more difficult climbs of the day with the 'no fall' maxim he imbued. This conservative approach required three static points of contact with the rock at all time limiting climbing to about grade 12. My new heroes became Ron Cox and Pat Conaghan of the UQBWC whose exploits I read about in the annual UQBWC magazine, Heybob. I then started climbing with John Tillack when I was an undergraduate at the University of Queensland and my standard accelerated to keep up with his natural ability.
Despite his break with Salmon, Ted always respected his mentor’s willingness to share his knowledge and passion of the Queensland bush:
He bequeathed me his priceless collection of photograph albums and I am ashamed to have let these disappear in some dusty archive … they properly belong in a Queensland historical archive.
It is a request — voiced again during his last days — that remains to be fulfilled.
Bert Salmon was one of three major climbing influences Ted identified in his life. The second was expatriate British climber, Les Wood. Les spent just 12 months in Queensland in 1966 and pushed climbing limits here to the equal of anything in the country. It was at this time that Ted began to realise his ambition and abilities as a climber and Les was one who encouraged him to follow his passion. Les recalls that young Ted wasn’t into climbing all that much when they first met in 1966 — but by year’s end, things had changed significantly. Ted re-calls the shift:
Les taught me boldness even though we did only about a dozen climbs together during 1966, his single year of influence, when he coaxed me upwards into the grade 16 zone. He brought his experience of British climbing to Australia and quickly applied this by pushing standards in the Glasshouses.
Les had the same effect on a young Ron Farmer and others including Lance Rutherford, when they met by chance on the East Face of Tibrogargan.
Donn Groom was a central figure in Queensland climbing culture at this time. One of the founding members of the Brisbane Rockclimbing Club (BRC) in 1965, he partnered Les on many of his memorable and still classic new routes around south-east Queensland. But when Donn left for an extended climbing trip to Tasmania, Ted linked up with Les for a blitzkrieg of memorable second ascents, including the imposing
East Crookneck — their first climb together. It was a route that Les and Donn had climbed virtually free a few months earlier. Next was
Clemency on the east face of Tibrogargan — 'a very competent lead', according to the perfunctory notes in Les Wood’s diary. Coming from the circumspect Brit, it was the ultimate compliment. Ted later described the challenges of climbing
Clemency and its significance at the time:
The lousy protection, thoughtful balance moves, difficult route finding and problematic escape make it a memorable classic in the grade. At the time it was a tour de force and rivalled Lieben on Crater Bluff in the Warrumbungles as a breakthrough.
Repeating Clemency with Greg Sheard in the late 1990s (Michael Meadows collection)
After Clemency: (from left) Ted, Greg Sheard, Ron Farmer, Bryden Cais (Michael Meadows collection)
The impacts on his life and climbing ambitions extended beyond south-east Queensland:
At this time other huge influences by their accomplishments and writings were Bryden Allen with his guide, Rockclimbs of NSW, and John Ewbank with his articles in Thrutch. Lieben (17) and Heartstopper (18) became the ultimate hard routes to aspire to. Our ropes were still laid (twisted cable) nylon and we usually carried a Stubai peg hammer with half a dozen blades and channels. Under Les's influence we also started supplementing this vast rack with brass machine nuts and ball-bearing races threaded on rope as our first primitive chocks.
When the fledgling Brisbane Rockclimbing Club published its collection of archival documents at the end of 1966, Ted's name was on 13 of the 45 listed climbing trip reports — the highest single contributor — including a range of second ascents and new exploratory routes in the Glasshouses, Binna Burra and The Steamers. He swung leads with Donn Groom on the first free ascents of Queensland’s hardest climbs — Donn’s own routes,
Alcheringa at Binna Burra, and
Flameout on the south west buttress of Crookneck. Ted had emerged not only as a leading, enthusiastic and skilled climber, but also as an accomplished writer and artist with many of the BRC climbing guide sheets over ensuing years a result of his careful and creative hand. His penchant for producing pithy cartoons of various moments was a testament to his wide-ranging creative skills. But it was climbing that was increasingly taking up more of his time:
A dilemma that surfaced fully around this period was the conflict of continuing university to become a research scientist (my dad's dream) versus dropping out to be a full time climber (my dream). My intense mental dedication to climbing in 1966 caused me to have to repeat second year at University in 1967. And so this cycle continued with my oscillation from periods of hard climbing only to retire, hit the books, struggle through final exams and then back to bushwalking as a prelude to getting into shape for climbing again.
A bold 'lead' of Olos at Kangaroo Point in 1968 (Ted Cais collection)
On 7 January 1968, his climbing ambitions received another major fillip when he met Rick White, crossing paths at the Kangaroo Point cliffs. Immensely fit and strong after a summer of working as a labourer, Ted virtually soloed
Cox's Overhang that day, using just one runner and impressing those of us present with his steely resolve and the power to do one-arm chin-ups. He soloed
Olos around this time as well and led the fiery
Pterodactyl (18) on sight with Dave Reeve, inspiring a blossoming of new routes at KP which, since the late 1940s, had always been considered a practice cliff. This visionary shift resulted in it eventually becoming a popular sports climbing destination. But as Ted recalled in 2002, it was Rick White who pushed him to greater heights:
Rick taught me mental stamina. Although I had raw power and technique I still suffered a nervous disposition lacking enough self confidence to fulfill my true potential. Rick on the other hand was tough and blessed with vision and mental drive. I drifted with the tide vacillating between climbing and studies but he had a plan with goals and worked to achieve them. We complemented each other well and several times on new routes I would figure out the technical moves only to back off and have Rick punch the route through to the finish. More often we were friendly rivals and I usually was the first one to repeat Rick’s new routes at Frog Buttress, although Barry Overs filled this role for a while.
His first major new route with Rick was the classic jamB crack,
Infinity (19) at the newly-discovered crag, Frog Buttress, on 7 December 1968. It is akin to the classic
Eternity at Wirindi in the Blue Mountains. Ted always had his own strong ideas about climbing and its broader connection with bushwalking and the environment and this passion compelled him to seek out more challenging and inaccessible destinations rather than being content with ticking off new routes at Frog Buttress. He readily joined with other climbers of the era for various adventures including the authors, Greg Sheard, Ian Cameron, Lance Rutherford, Ross 'Cecil' Allen and John Leah.
He was always up for an adventure: Red Rock Gorge, Black Canyon, Lamington National Park, 1969 (Michael Meadows collection)
Ted supported Rick White's introduction of a clean climbing ethic into Queensland, coinciding with the increasing availability of jamB protection, aluminium 'crackers' initially made and sold by John Ewbank, later replaced by the lighter and better designed American Chouinard hexentrics. This period — in the late 1960s — saw Ted re-thinking his 'old-school' approach to climbing.
I finally started systematic training for climbing mostly with free weights as an extension of my olympic weightlifting at University. These weights were home made from 1 inch [2.5 cm] steel discs cut out to make portholes in ships' plates that we 'borrowed' from a local shipyard. Hundreds of pounds of these unwieldy monsters were clandestinely dragged through the impossible slime of the Brisbane riverbank mud and into a small getaway row-boat that almost sank under the excess ballast. We also started circuit training at the University gym (a curious British commando regimen, it seemed) and eventually enjoyed true bouldering on the rough gritstone of the Tarragindi boulders.
Ron, a fellow student, accompanied Ted on these training activities. Ted had such power that usually he could complete each exercise set twice in the time Ron did one. It was typical of Ted's generosity that he saved one exercise until last. This required ascending a thick old rope hand-over-hand style without using legs for assistance and where Ted always lost. His weight-lifting skills were unexpectedly called into action on one of several exploratory trips to recce a possible new route on the north face of Mount Warning where the longest climb in Australia,
Lost Boys, was later established. Ted stopped for a beer at the Tyalgum pub where he proceeded to deadlift a huge boulder from the floor onto the bar, thereby winning a free beer, much to the chagrin of the wide-eyed locals.
Rick White had moved onto the big walls in preparation for his historic Yosemite visit, still some years away, but Ted always considered his forte to be short, highly technical routes. He also dabbled with aid climbing over the years but saw it as far too restrictive. His new aid routes included KP's
Hanger Wall (with Neil Lamb and Pat Conaghan in 1966), the first pitch of the
Beerwah bolt route (with Pete Giles in 1967),
Barnacle Buttress and
Wages of Fear (both in 1968 at KP with Pete Giles and John Pickard respectively) and finally a quartzite roof in Brisbane’s western suburbs,
Tarantula.
But Ted’s love of exploration — with a climbing edge — always seemed to have more pull, luring him back to rarely-visited slopes and faces in the Glasshouses and elsewhere for potential routes — or merely for the experience. It was how he discovered Queensland’s second longest climb —
Dreadnought — a multi-pitch trad route:
Located on the south-east wall of Tibrogargan and a wonderful first-ascent outing in May 1970 with my longtime friend Mike Meadows. Actually I coveted a new route up the steeper and blanker section to the right that I was already calling Microjug Wall. Still, Dreadnought was more reasonable fun even though we found old engine valves driven in the lower section from some past failed attempt. Mike even led a tricky bit after I backed off but after that I got revving and everything fell in place.
On that climb, Ted and Michael camped in Cave Two on Tibrogargan overnight and it was there that they met a youthful Ian Thomas for the first time. The friendships forged on that day have remained strong ever since. Earlier that year Ted joined Donn Groom and Michael Meadows for a committing first descent of the Coomera Gorge from its source.
For all of us at this time, climbing was inexorably embedded in a passion for various forms of motor transport, with Ted often leading the charge:
Other interesting diversions for me included exotic motorcycles such as the Velocette Clubman, CZ scrambler and pristine Matchless 500 single I fully restored. The Meadows brothers also got me into rallying and I cultivated an affection for old Peugeot cars, particularly the 203. Rally-proficient cars featured prominently in the early Frog exploration days as the access road was dirt with several pinches that became extremely challenging in the wet. Rick too was not mainstream in his choice of vehicles and in particular his classic Citroen Light 15 was just the ticket to blast up the greasy clay hill in reverse as the final recourse to getting in.
Ted thoroughly enjoyed exploratory four wheel drive trips with Ron during their time together as PhD students in Chemistry. These ranged from what is now called Red Cliffs through the lower Glass House Mountains peaks and on extended trips to places such as Double Island Point and Fraser Island. Ted tackled photography with the same intensity and perfectionism characteristic of his other activities and a wide range of high quality camera brands — Leica, Rollei, Miranda — came into contact with the pair of white silk gloves he always insisted on wearing to protect them.
White silk gloves always kept his cameras clean, regardless of the rest of his body (Michael Meadows collection)
Astride his immaculately-restored Velocette Clubman (Ted Cais collection)
Back on the rock, he joined with Rick to open a new climbing area on the south eastern flank of Mount Maroon — Maggies Farm — climbing several hard new routes there on the mixed cracks and faces. Australia’s first national climbing meet at Porter’s Pass in the Blue Mountains at Easter, 1973, saw Ted demonstrate his expertise as the first Queensland climber up several Mount Piddington classic routes. One stand-out was his second ascent of the 'spooky' Ewbank wall climb,
The Minotaur. In the lead-up to the Blue Mountains trip, Ted and Rick had partnered to climb several imposing new routes at Frog Buttress —
Black Light, C
hild in Time and
Badfinger — as well as making the first clean ascents of
Odin,
Erg and
Pollux.
Ian Thomas lured into abseiling from a very rusty bolt with frayed blind cord from Ted's Indooroopilly house veranda with Michael Meadows looking on (Ted Cais collection)
After Porter’s Pass, Rick headed off to Yosemite and in other climbing directions with Ted seeking out new regular climbing companions: ‘I started climbing more with the feisty Humzoo (Ian Thomas) who approximated Don Whillans in build and temperament (at least according to what we read about Whillans).’
Ian Thomas and Ted contemplate another memorable FFA at Frog Buttress in 1973 (Ted Cais collection)
The combination seemed to encourage Ted's penchant for pranks to new heights and his close friends — including all three authors — suffered multiple indiscretions over the years from electrified doorknobs, a dead cat down a chimney, rotting crab shells hidden under a rear car seat at the height of summer (the car had to be sold as scrap!), holes punched through plaster walls, dousing a motorbike helmet with the foul-smelling and highly inflammable ethyl mercaptan, being left behind to survive on pippies on some remote beach, unexpectedly pushed into hedges, and the inevitable avalanche of dirt, leaves and twigs that would shower down on his climbing partners as they negotiated the crux of a route — all accompanied by his maniacal laughter. Strangely, his appetite for humour seemed to evaporate when the tables were turned!
The young chemist in his laboratory preparing another evil concoction to test out on his 'mates' (Michael Meadows collection)
Ted, Ron and Michael once went in search of a lost aeroplane around the southern side of Mt Lindesay, ending up climbing to the summit and down to a shelf on the south-west side for lunch, watching the eagles soar beneath. On returning to Ted's Indooroopilly house, he decided he needed to top up the liquid nitrogen in one of his experiments, so they took off for the university via the local dump for some makeshift rally driving in his Peugeot 203 on a dirt, glass-covered track that encircled the tip. Ted thought that Ron’s predicament of being thrown around on a petrol drum seat in the back while the back doors flew open was hilarious. A few wide bridging moves saved the day. They had wondered why Ted's housemate and fellow scientist Mark Sceats had not joined them: now they knew! Several unsuspecting visiting interstate climbers were also lured into a circuit of the dump in the back of Ted's Peugeot (sans seating) on more than one occasion.
Another trip to the Indooroopilly dump for spurious reasons (Ted Cais collection)
Before he left Australia, significant first and second ascents abound: think about climbs like
Clockwork Orange,
Venom,
Juggernaut and many more — lots more. Observers were always astounded at his strength and his technical footwork. On 6 April 1974 as he was about to launch into the final stages of his PhD — a complex mathematical treatise on polymers — he made his last Australian climb before emigrating to the USA: the first free lead of Rick White’s
Conquistador at Frog Buttress, Queensland’s first grade 21:
After that I hung up my boots and made the final concerted effort to finish my PhD and depart for America to become a permanent exile. There I met John Stannard who was the last major influence on my climbing. He was a reticent purist whose efforts defined the Shawangunks as the Eastern-U.S. haven for adventure trad climbers but then this chapter of my life is another story.
Ted's PhD Thesis, 'The copolymerization of vinyl chloride with sulphur dioxide', was monumental in size, as well as comprehensive in both theoretical and experimental accomplishments.
But away from the research labs in the US, he soon established his reputation as a climber of note in the 'Gunks where his partner was the legendary John Stannard, 'Hot' Henry Barber’s muse. Ted managed a fine ascent of the amazing
Foops — a climb akin to
Kachoong at Mount Arapiles — but on steroids! He was admired by the uber-hero of bouldering, John Gill, the person who invented that modern, extreme incarnation of the sport, by introducing a training and gymnastics' attitude to ascents — an approach that was right up Ted's alley. One of Ted's old climbing mates from his Australian days, George Harrison, also joined him for some climbing in the ‘Gunks.
Ted's day job was as a research chemist, specialising in the development of compounds which stung, stank or stained and all three of us — his close ‘mates’ — unwittingly became experimental subjects before he left Australian shores! In the USA, he initially worked for Bell Laboratories, later moving to Mitsubishi Chemical America. As his research and development expertise continued to expand, he produced seven patented products and processes as the lead inventor. One of these was for work done at Bell Laboratories with the rest resulting from his work with Mitsubishi. After Xerox was forced to license its patents, he was involved in research that extending photocopying technology. Ted's other patents were also applicable to this field. He published a considerable body of academic work in peer reviewed professional literature, two with Ron as a co-author. Ted's published papers rose from two in 1975 to a peak in 1984, followed by the typical slow decline as he became a senior researcher with expanded responsibilities. His last paper in polymer chemistry was published in 2001. His most heavily referenced paper has had 198 citations.
Despite his scientific achievements, his passion for climbing and outdoor adventure was never far away. On a return holiday visit to Australia in 1980, he roped two of the authors (Michael and Ron) into an attempt on Vidler’s Chimney on the eastern side of Mount Lindesay. Climbed just once before in 1954 by a team of four (including John Comino) from UQBWC, Ted had obsessed about a second ascent. Needless to say, the almost vertical, loose dirt slopes inside the chimney, coupled with endless rope tangles, soon dissuaded us from pursuing it beyond the second pitch. But it was another adventure and it summed up Ted Cais to a tee.
On the slopes of Mount Lindesay in 1980 (Michael Meadows collection)
His regular visits back to Queensland every few years saw him link up with his old climbing buddies (and some new ones) for a day or two on the rock. His level of fitness and strength seemed to remain at an extraordinarily high level throughout that time, stemming from his consistent climbing activity across the Pacific:
During a visit back to Australia in 1987 I was in my best climbing form ever, having worked up to the 5.12s in the ‘Gunks. So I had this glorious day with Rick and Mike at Frog under a perfect blue Queensland sky cruising up some classics awash in waves of nostalgia watching Cap’n Fists jam away like in some time warp and wishing I could stay. One always appreciates things more by their absence.
He was always at home on fierce, technical crimpers (Michael Meadows collection)
On other trips he revisited
Clemency with Greg Sheard and in May 2003, after a warm up at Kangaroo Point, attempted
Air Time over Pumistone with Phil Box, followed a few days later by a trip to Glennies Pulpit for a wonderful day out. Michele, Rick, Cass Crane, Cameron Featherstone and Phil participated in some of these adventures.
Typically, Ted always felt that some of his more memorable climbs were those that he never completed once musing: 'It is often instructive to learn from our failures as success only seems to confirm our bad habits.' He was a self-confessed follower of the ethics of the period rather than a trendsetter but like Frog Buttress’s principal developer — Rick White — railed against bolts being used there. He believed to the end that the possibility of keeping it as Australia’s great clean-climbing crag was an opportunity lost.
Ted Cais was always more concerned with quality — of the moment, the experience, the friendships — rather than quantity. He never publicised his climbing achievements, always valuing camaraderie above all else. The climb was most often secondary to the strong relationships he maintained despite spending the last decades of his life on the other side of the world. He had a confident personal philosophy that enabled him to make sense of his life experiences, even including those infuriating pranks directed at his closest friends. A deeply intellectual thinker, he was aware of global trends and when he retired, sought out a simple life in Arizona with his second wife, Michele, and their beloved dogs. He once wrote: 'One great maxim of life is to "know thyself" and climbing is an excellent medium for attaining self knowledge by training the quiet mind. Fitness and mental equilibrium are added benefits that enhance the quality of life.'
His pancreatic cancer diagnosis came barely five weeks before his death. In typical style, Ted shared with his family and close friends his decision to eschew chemotherapy because of the scientific uncertainties around its curative claims coupled with the medical certainty of the inevitable poor quality of life that would ensue. To the very end he was lucid, sharp-witted and as always, offered a brutally honest yet skilfully adept take on current issues. Ian Thomas was one of the few of his Australian mates who visited him several times in his modest home in Benson and Ted’s appreciation was patently obvious — devising a particularly intricate prank that resulted in Ian falling from a boulder problem into a patch of spiny cactus and rolling into the foul-smelling den of a pack of Javelinas, creatures with the longest canines of any mammal in North America: an ultimate acknowledgement of friendship!
A reunion at the Dugandan Hotel near Frog Buttress in 1998
(from left) Michael Meadows, Ted, Greg Sheard and Ian 'Humzoo' Thomas (Michael Meadows collection)
Despite the decades and tens of thousands of kilometres that separated us, whenever any of us spoke to him either in person or electronically, it was as if we had seen each other barely days before. He maintained a strong email correspondence with several long-time friends and the contents of these covered a broad range of topics. Each topic was treated with customary thoroughness and depth. They are truly a rare treasure to those blessed with his thoughtfulness and strength of spirit. And when we sat together after a day’s climbing on the verandah of the Dugandan Hotel on one of his Australian visits, the memories and stories flowed freely — like the cold beer. It was as if he had never left and to an extent, remains so. Indeed, it was one of these moments that was the catalyst that led to the research and writing of the Australian climbing history book,
The Living Rock.
He is survived by his first wife Kirsten, their two children Bryden and Carly, and his second wife, Michele.
A recent picture of Ted with one of his many epicurean passions -- cheese (Michele Cais collection)
His passing is a reminder of the significance of an extraordinary period in Australian climbing history in which he played a central role. It is particularly poignant as those characters who defined that era are gradually slipping away. Despite his long physical absence from these shores, Ted’s contribution to Australian climbing culture should be remembered for what it was — a visionary, far-reaching impact that placed people and experiences above all else. He never sought the limelight and yet his achievements and influence deserve as much recognition as anyone of that era.
Ted Cais is arguably the best unknown climber that Australia has ever produced. A high-achieving scientist who craved adventure. He thought deeply about ethics. He worked out. He was a master boulderer. He was an off-width monster. He was an aggressive prankster with a one-sided sense of humour. And he was our good mate.
Rest in peace ‘cobber’.
Ian Thomas, Ron Farmer and Michael Meadows
AFTERWORD...
On 21 February 2022, one of Ted's climbing partners from his time in the Shawanagunks in New York State -- Herb Gaidus -- had only just come across the news of Ted's death and tried unsuccessfully to post a message. He contacted me directly and here it is...Michael.
Just found this post, and am saddened to hear the news that my former climbing buddy from the Gunks has passed away. Michael Meadows, you have written a truly moving and informative tribute.
I met Ted at the Gunks circa 1987 while climbing with my buddy Edmund Zimmerer. Ted documents this in one line on his post at https://rokrover.blogspot.com/2012/03/shawangunk-climbing.html?m=1
He was an amazingly accomplished and gracious guy, as well as an awesome climber.
Photo circa 1987 - Ted Cais, Edmund Zimmerer, Herb Gaidus near the Yellow Wall in the Trapps
At the time, I was about 29, Edmund was 34, and Ted was 39. As such, he was known to us, and embraced the moniker "gramps"
On his 40th birthday, after a day of climbing at the Casa Emilio block at the Trapps, Ted took us all out to dinner at the Conca D'oro in New Paltz. A grand time was had by all.
As you detailed in your post, he also enjoyed a good prank. I fell victim to at least one that I recall where after a two mile approach, I found that my climbing pack had been burdened by an additional 10# of rocks, courtesy of Ted.
We did manage to reciprocate however. Later in the day, while swatting flies from my leg during lunch, I found that I could amass quite a collection of nearly intact fly carcasses. Edmund helped me, and before long we had generated a small mountain of fly carcasses that somehow found their way into the toe box of Ted's right climbing shoe. The look on Ted's face when he squeezed his foot into the shoe and felt them dissolve into mush under his big toe was priceless.
RIP "Gramps"
Herb Gaidus
"Gramps taking a photo of me, taking a photo of him"
