************
"...Go climb a mountain, take in the full moon as it rises over Atalaya Peak,
explore a cave, run a river, adopt a pet, dance the night away, or head off
somewhere exotic on a sailing adventure... It’s a big old world out there just waiting to be explored. Do it while you are young and strong.”
Herb Kincey (1934-2026)
************
Herb Kincey, Mountaineer Extraordinaire
************
I can still clearly hear Herb's full-chested and full-hearted voice resounding down the hallways of St. John's College whenever he saw me, "Ra-Ben!" slightly growling and usually followed by a higher-pitched hearty laugh. We enjoyed many a good meal, and many a good conversation. Herb was a truly original thinker -- and doer. His facial features always seemed ruddy and full of expression, like he just returned from a mountaintop -- or canyon bottom. It could have been either. He explored wild places far across the Americas, in the Smokies, the Rockies, the Volcanos of Mexico, the Andes, and down the Ucayali River of Peru, in addition to many rock climbing and spelunking adventures.
I fondly remember riding in his tan-colored 4WD woody style suburban, plowing through snows, and rain & wind of the Southern Sangre De Cristos, and canyon lands of the Upper Rio Grande drainage, and onwards to the next mission, dashboard full of radios crackling, and stories popping, looking at maps with hand-held compass. I was blown away by all the tools and mechanics, but mostly by the good-natured love & compassion behind it all. His effusive spirit and earthy character held a life-long influence on me, to this very day, and his sense of wilderness ethics even more so. Not without some resistance on my part. Herb propelled a certain military-like kind of discipline and responsibility, that for me as a wild-reared Colorado mountain boy radical, I chafed against. But, I'll have to say was also taken by. I hear myself today sometimes hollering out the same kind of gritty exhortations. And also feel myself exerting the same kind of focused ways with my muddy-tinged staff of colorful river-rats here in Mississippi, as we build voyageur style canoes and guide folks into the depths of the big river floodplain of the biggest river in North America, and open up opportunities for local youth & local communities.
I feel like I am still somewhat guided by Herb's ways. When I first met him, I was a little bit of a lost soul -- Herb's vision was like a guiding light shining from the deep woods. I was St. John's College Search & Rescue team member 1986-87, along with Paul Cooley, Owen Jones, Molly Porter, and Robby Porter, life-long friends -- and many others I have lost contact with, but who stand strong in my memory, like it was yesterday -- Reid Hayhow, and Rich Green, and Bill Gattis. Years later, in the 1990s, Herb helped me through the legal and corporate aspects of starting a wilderness related business, this time on an entirely different sort of wild place -- the wild flowing muddy waters of the Lower Mississippi River. He led me to the insurance carrier I still use to this day, a team of former river guides who started their own liability business serving that need. Herb and I stayed in touch for decades, way into the new millennium, but then I regret I lost contact since pandemic.
Herb's deep sense of feeling for others -- and the trials of humanity -- can so clearly be seen in this passage from his journal-keeping (written in 1972, after a chance encounter at a random Colorado drugstore coffeeshop with the Outward Bound student who felt like he had dislodged the rock of that killed OB leader Lou Covert 7 years previous, in 1965, while climbing 14,156 ft. Maroon Peak):
"Looking back, I just wish that in 1972 I had been able to give that young man more support, wish I had gotten his name and address, wish at least I had sent him a letter after returning home. Now we have a nation-wide, professional support system (critical incident stress debriefings) for people who are involved in accidents resulting in serious injury or death. But in those days one had to suffer pretty much alone except for the informal help of family and friends. I don’t believe this young man had received much help. And for some reason I had refused to accept available professional support after my own accident. However, I do seem to remember that in the sixties males considered it unmanly to seek professional counseling. t’s all too easy in life just to let things you know you should do to help others sometimes slide. And then, when finally you do get around to offering support, it’s often too late. That’s what happened to me that long-ago January day in Colorado. I guess the only way to live with these personal failures and lost opportunities long-term is to recognize them for what they are, but at the same time resolve to make every effort to be there in the future when someone needs you. A few people seem to have almost from birth that innate ability to be able to reach out and touch those around them. Almost anyone can gain the ability with age and experience. We all need to practice it."
Herb opened the outdoors for generations of kids, from Appalachian Scouts to Colorado Outward Bound youth, to St. John's students, (a bunch of rag-tag misfits, hippy philosophers with bushy beards and long unruly hair). Something I guess I inherited from him, and continue to this day in Mississippi with youth apprenticeships in canoe carving, navigation, and leadership -- and our Mississippi River Canoe Camps, and other activities connecting communities to the "Mother Mississippi" for betterment of the health of all.
I will be on the Mississippi River all next week with grad biology students from Western Colorado University, so I can't be there at Herb's Memorial in person, to share stories and fellowship. But I am thankful to Herb's remaining Family to be able to honor his life, and the wilderness ethic I feel he passed on to me and many others. Because of Herb, I still live a life closely connected to the natural landscape, and also because of Herb, try and do so in a sustainable and ethical kind of way, with mannerisms and discipline I feel are connect directly back to his living example.
Herb is now forever freed from earthly constraints, and his soul wandering far into the wild, wild beyond. Paddles up to you my friend and mentor -- from the wild Mississippi. Que viva Herb Kinsey!
Raben (John) Ruskey
April 4, 2026, Clarksdale, MS
(Note: Herb shared journals from many of his adventures on personal website herbkincey.com. Great reading! Besides being an all around mountaineer, in the classic sense, he was also an English major from UNC Chapel Hill, and writes with wry, dry humor, and much wisdom, self-knowledge, and exudes deep compassion for others. You'll also find inspired excerpts from literary traditions around the globe, some have been sprinkled into this posting, along with photos found there. Herb was an engaging, talented writer and diarist. Hopefully more journals will turn up.)
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Phil Clark, Paul Wikstrom, and Herb Kincey during a Colorado peak bagging trip take a break in a field of alpine flowers, August 1986. Photo by Jim Carr.
***********
“What we have done for ourselves alone dies with us; what we have done for others remains and is immortal.”
Albert Pike (1809-1881)
Attorney, soldier, Freemason, writer
***********
“I expect to pass through this world but once. Any good thing, therefore, that I can do or any kindness I can show to any human being, let me do it now. Let me not defer nor neglect it, for I shall not pass this way again.”
Stephen Grellet (1773-1855)
Quaker missionary
************
Looking up Upper Lead King Basin to the 14,156 ft.peak, Maroon Bells, from the Meadow Mt. Traverse, Snowmass Wilderness (Colorado), Aug. 1973. Check out Jeff’s pack. Photo by Herb Kincey.
************
Herbert Furniss Kincey, Jr.
December 12, 1934 — March 10, 2026
Rivera Funeral Home, Santa Fe, NM
************
Herb Kincey (1934-2026)
************
From Rivera Funeral Homes:
Herb Kincey was an outdoorsman, teacher, and a pillar of the Santa Fe
community. Over his more than 50 years in the city, he helped hundreds
find their way by helping to found the St. Johns College Search and Rescue
Team and opening his home to anyone who needed a place to live.
Throughout his life, he was kind, thoughtful, and caring.
Herb, son of Sara Bayne Kincey, and Herbert Furniss (Mike) Kincey, and
younger brother of Sara Kincey Jones (all now deceased), was born in
Charlotte, North Carolina, in 1934 and grew up in the Eastover
neighborhood, where he was known as Sonny. His early schooling included
Eastover Elementary and Alexander Graham Bell Junior High. He then
attended Woodberry Forest School outside Orange, Virginia, for four years,
during which he played football, wrestled, and served as a prefect his senior
year (1952-53). After a stint at Davidson College, Herb attended the
University of North Carolina-Chapel Hill, graduating in 1959 with a degree in
English Literature. He pledged the N.C. Theta chapter of Sigma Alpha
Epsilon Fraternity (SAE) at Davidson in 1953 and continued his fraternity
involvement with the N.C XI Chapter of SAE at UNC, including serving as
chapter president in 1959. Some additional time during those years was
spent at Mars Hill University and Indiana University.
Herb’s outdoor career began in 1961 while working for 3 years at Camps
Sequoyah & Tsali (no longer in existence) in the western North Carolina
mountains, holding several staff positions there, eventually including
assistant director. From Camp Sequoyah, Herb moved on in 1964 to spend 6
years as a staff member at newly opened Outward Bound schools in the
Colorado Rockies and in North Carolina's Blue Ridge Mountains. During this
time, he also briefly served on the staff of two Outward Bound schools in
Great Britain: The Eskdale Mountain School in northern England and the
Aber Dovey School on the coast of Wales. This trip also included a month
long stay at the British Army Outward Bound School outside Kristiansand,
Norway.
In 1971, two years after relocating from North Carolina to Santa Fe, Herb
opened a home-based outdoor shop, Peak & Plain Outfitters, specializing in
backpacking, climbing, survival, and technical rescue gear. Also in 1971,
Herb attended the first EMT course taught in New Mexico and then went on
to teach EMT, First Responder, and CPR courses until 1994. During this
period, both the Los Alamos National Lab and the U.S. Customs Aviation
Unit, Western Branch, hired Herb to teach wilderness survival courses.
For 37 years, Herb was a member of the St. Johns College Search and
Rescue Team, Santa Fe, which he helped found in 1971. In the early days,
he served as a training officer for the team. In addition, Herb was also an
active member of the New Mexico Civil Air Patrol for forty years. He held
many staff positions during that time and participated in numerous CAP air
search and rescue missions across the state, going back to the days when
there were few emergency locator transmitters installed in private aircraft,
making searches more difficult and lengthier.
Other organizations with which Herb was affiliated over the years included:
the Boy Scouts of America, Los Alamos Mountaineers, American Alpine Club,
Sierra Club, New Mexico Wilderness Alliance, Appalachian Mountain Club,
AMC Hetmans’ Association, Santa Fe Chamber of Commerce, the Santa Fe
Council on International Relations, the Wilderness Medical Society, Outward
Bound, and Camps Sequoyah & Tsali.
In the nineteen seventies, eighties, and nineties, Herb made several
climbing trips with St. Johns College students and other friends to the 3 big
Mexican volcanoes: Popocatepetl (now closed to climbers) Iztaccihuatl, and
El Pico de Orizaba, Orizaba being the highest at about 18,800 ft. In more
recent years, he engaged in less physically demanding activities, visiting
countries in various parts of the world, mostly with his good friend and
traveling pal, Carmel Davis.
Since about 2005 Herb’s outdoor activities and foreign travel were limited
due to ongoing medical problems. However, in addition to looking after
Skeeter, a beautiful female Lab mix he owned jointly with close friend, Colin
Willis, Herb also spent time reading a wide variety of books, writing
memoirs, and staying in touch with old and new friends, mostly thanks to
Facebook. His partially completed blog can be reviewed at.
Herb was a strong believer in a brief passage from the poem, Ulysses, written by Alfred Lord Tennyson: “I am a part of all that I have met”.
Although the members of Herb’s immediate family have all passed on, he
had two nieces: Lane Morgan (husband Billy,) in Texas with 3 adult children;
and Lyra Gapper (partner Raul), in South Carolina with 2 adult children; as
well as several cousins and other relatives, mostly living in and around
Selma, Alabama.
At Herb’s request, there will be no formal funeral service. There will be a
memorial service at Rivera Funeral Home 417 Rodeo Rd. in Santa Fe, N.M.
on April 9, 2026, at 2pm. He asks that some of his ashes be scattered in
the mountains east of Santa Fe by friends, and the remainder be placed in
the Kincey burial plot located in Charlotte. Herb also recommends readers
go climb a mountain, take in the full moon as it rises over Atalaya Peak,
explore a cave, run a river, adopt a pet, dance the night away, or head off
somewhere exotic on a sailing adventure. Herb once said, “It’s a big old
world out there just waiting to be explored. Do it while you are young and
strong.”
Donations may be made in Herb’s memory to St. John’s College
Advancement, PO Box 715905, Philadelphia, PA 19171-5905; to Woodberry
Forest School, 898 Woodberry Forest Road, Woodberry Forest, VA 20000; to
Sigma Alpha Epsilon Foundation, P.O. Box 4543, Carol Stream, Il 60197-
4543
************
From obit posted on Rivera Funeral Homes website
https://www.riverafamilyfuneralhome.com/obituaries/herbert-kincey-jr
************
Colorado Outward Bound School instructors, Bernie Welch (l) and Herb Kincey (r) cooking the old way (wood fires & billy cans) on Mount Daly, Snowmass Wilderness, early June, 1964. Marmot stew…….ummmm, good!
************
Do not stand at my grave and weep.
I am not there. I do not sleep
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glint on snow.
I am the sunset on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you wake in the morning hush,
I am the swift, uplifting rush
of quiet bird encircled flight.
I am the soft star that shines at night.
So do not stand at my grave and weep.
I am not there. I do not sleep.
Mary Elizabeth Frye
Baltimore housewife (1905 – 2004)
************
Louis Porter, Herb Kincey and Robby Porter, setting up rock climb in Joshua Tree Nat’l Monument, March, 1994 (photo: Robby Porter)
************
Note: the 12-star page space divider and quotes sprinkled throughout this tribute come directly from Herb's personal blog site, in which he carefully selected and shared selections. Go to: herbkincey.com "MEMOIRS FROM THE PAST – PERSONAL BLOG OF HERB KINCEY: An Eighty-Three Year Looks Back At His Life." Hopefully more journals will turn up.
************
Jim Carr (L), Herb Kincey, and Neil Burt on the summit of 14,338 ft. Blanca Peak in Colorado, July 1976. Behind us: 14,037 ft. Little Bear Peak, a more serious endeavor.
************
“We knew the desolation of great heights,
And the contentment of deep valleys.
We saw the moon leap silver from the mountain peaks
And watched the red sun die in a welter of mists on the horizon.
We knew the white, swift decline of vast snow fields
And the small beauty of forest flowers.
Our dreams rose with the smoke of our campfires in the wilderness,
And our friendship glowed in their embers.
We shared hunger, thirst, and the great
struggle toward the mountain tops
As we shared the peace, good food, and
pleasant rest of our night camps.
All these things entered into the pattern
of our friendship and made it fine.
These things we knew together…..
And these things we shall remember.”
Don Blanding (1894-1953)
poet, speaker, journalist
*************
“And have you traveled very far?
Far as the eye can see.
How often have you been there?
Often enough to know.
What did you see when you were there?
Nothing that doesn’t show.”
John Lennon & Paul McCartney
from an old Beatles song
************
Last night I read through all of Herb's journals (and revisions) from herbkincey.com, and felt the need to add more to post. Just did, but also repeating here, in case anyone misses. Such great writing, great sense of story-telling, and great depth of feeling for the lives of his colleagues and the youth he led into the wild:
Herb's deep sense of feeling for others -- and the trials of humanity -- can so clearly be seen in this passage from his journal-keeping (written in 1972, revised in 2010, after a chance encounter at a random Colorado drugstore coffeeshop with the Outward Bound student who felt like he had dislodged the rock of that killed OB leader Lou Covert 7 years previous, in 1965, while climbing 14,156 ft. Maroon Peak):
"Looking back, I just wish that in 1972 I had been able to give that young man more support, wish I had gotten his name and address, wish at least I had sent him a letter after returning home. Now we have a nation-wide, professional support system (critical incident stress debriefings) for people who are involved in accidents resulting in serious injury or death. But in those days one had to suffer pretty much alone except for the informal help of family and friends. I don’t believe this young man had received much help. And for some reason I had refused to accept available professional support after my own accident. However, I do seem to remember that in the sixties males considered it unmanly to seek professional counseling. t’s all too easy in life just to let things you know you should do to help others sometimes slide. And then, when finally you do get around to offering support, it’s often too late. That’s what happened to me that long-ago January day in Colorado. I guess the only way to live with these personal failures and lost opportunities long-term is to recognize them for what they are, but at the same time resolve to make every effort to be there in the future when someone needs you. A few people seem to have almost from birth that innate ability to be able to reach out and touch those around them. Almost anyone can gain the ability with age and experience. We all need to practice it."
Herb opened the outdoors for generations of kids, from Appalachian Eagle Scouts to Colorado Outward Bound, to St. John's students, (a bunch of rag-tag misfits, hippy philosophers with bushy beards and long unruly hair). Something I guess I inherited from him, and continue to this day in Mississippi with youth apprenticeships in canoe carving, navigation, and leadership -- and our Mississippi River Canoe Camps, and other activities connecting communities to the "Mother Mississippi" for betterment of health of all.
Remember, when you were at Herb's outfitter shop debating whether to spend some of your thin student money on survival gear and Herb would say, to help the decision, drawing out the vowels with his southern accent, "Weeell, how much is your liiife worth?"
The conundrum of Herb that has stuck with me most forcibly perhaps is the way he was obsessed with safety and preparation and yet at the same time continually took himself and others into dangerous and unpredicatable wilderness situations. He sort of embodied the challenge and balance we all face between playing it safe and taking risks. To see him prepare and load up his pack you'd think maybe the guy should just stay home if he was that worried about what might go wrong, and yet, not only did he not stay home, he took thousands of people, some experienced and many complete neophytes, into the backcountry where things could, and sometimes did, go wrong. I think this was part of Herb's greatness. He was very well aware of the risks, and very prepared, but he never let that knowledge stop him from doing things.
Another weird, unnatural thing about Herb, his voice never changed as he got older. When i first met Herb I was twenty and he was about fifty. Then, after graduating from St. John's, I saw him in 1994 and then life went on and I didn't talk to him again until around 2020, and he sounded exactly the same as when I first met him. I thought he would sound like an old man and he never did in my experience.
Happy trails Herb. I hope i see you in camp on the other side of the mountain someday.
Last night I read through all of Herb's journals (and revisions) from herbkincey.com, and felt the need to add more to post. Just did, but also repeating here, in case anyone misses. Such great writing, great sense of story-telling, and great depth of feeling for the lives of his colleagues and the youth he led into the wild:
Herb's deep sense of feeling for others -- and the trials of humanity -- can so clearly be seen in this passage from his journal-keeping (written in 1972, revised in 2010, after a chance encounter at a random Colorado drugstore coffeeshop with the Outward Bound student who felt like he had dislodged the rock of that killed OB leader Lou Covert 7 years previous, in 1965, while climbing 14,156 ft. Maroon Peak):
"Looking back, I just wish that in 1972 I had been able to give that young man more support, wish I had gotten his name and address, wish at least I had sent him a letter after returning home. Now we have a nation-wide, professional support system (critical incident stress debriefings) for people who are involved in accidents resulting in serious injury or death. But in those days one had to suffer pretty much alone except for the informal help of family and friends. I don’t believe this young man had received much help. And for some reason I had refused to accept available professional support after my own accident. However, I do seem to remember that in the sixties males considered it unmanly to seek professional counseling. t’s all too easy in life just to let things you know you should do to help others sometimes slide. And then, when finally you do get around to offering support, it’s often too late. That’s what happened to me that long-ago January day in Colorado. I guess the only way to live with these personal failures and lost opportunities long-term is to recognize them for what they are, but at the same time resolve to make every effort to be there in the future when someone needs you. A few people seem to have almost from birth that innate ability to be able to reach out and touch those around them. Almost anyone can gain the ability with age and experience. We all need to practice it."
Herb opened the outdoors for generations of kids, from Appalachian Eagle Scouts to Colorado Outward Bound, to St. John's students, (a bunch of rag-tag misfits, hippy philosophers with bushy beards and long unruly hair). Something I guess I inherited from him, and continue to this day in Mississippi with youth apprenticeships in canoe carving, navigation, and leadership -- and our Mississippi River Canoe Camps, and other activities connecting communities to the "Mother Mississippi" for betterment of health of all.
Remember, when you were at Herb's outfitter shop debating whether to spend some of your thin student money on survival gear and Herb would say, to help the decision, drawing out the vowels with his southern accent, "Weeell, how much is your liiife worth?"
The conundrum of Herb that has stuck with me most forcibly perhaps is the way he was obsessed with safety and preparation and yet at the same time continually took himself and others into dangerous and unpredicatable wilderness situations. He sort of embodied the challenge and balance we all face between playing it safe and taking risks. To see him prepare and load up his pack you'd think maybe the guy should just stay home if he was that worried about what might go wrong, and yet, not only did he not stay home, he took thousands of people, some experienced and many complete neophytes, into the backcountry where things could, and sometimes did, go wrong. I think this was part of Herb's greatness. He was very well aware of the risks, and very prepared, but he never let that knowledge stop him from doing things.
Another weird, unnatural thing about Herb, his voice never changed as he got older. When i first met Herb I was twenty and he was about fifty. Then, after graduating from St. John's, I saw him in 1994 and then life went on and I didn't talk to him again until around 2020, and he sounded exactly the same as when I first met him. I thought he would sound like an old man and he never did in my experience.
Happy trails Herb. I hope i see you in camp on the other side of the mountain someday.
Robby Porter