By Kenny Broad
When offered the opportunity to contribute a short piece about Wes to UWS, of course I accepted, and am now faced with a blank page, a 24-hour deadline, and extreme sensory overload as I try to condense 21 years of friendship and shared adventures into words, an insufficient medium for the task at hand. No one story can convey the complex recipe that combined to make Wes’s force of personality, creativity, and skills. Also, many of the stories that come to mind probably should not be revealed publicly, as statute of limitations have yet to expire.
Terri and Wes’ generosity (and years later, Nathan and Tessa’s) resulted in my becoming a semi-permanent fixture in their homestead – known by many as “The Skiles Campground” – for long periods of time when the cave diving addiction first took hold of me. Often, I showed up with a crew from Miami, resulting in a highly charged cultural exchange of urban-rural hell raising, with Wes re-directing our energy toward some crazy, profitless film project – a la “The Darkside” or “Jacques Eye-Ear” or our 1990 Abaco blue holes expedition. As time went on, the sophistication of projects – from backyard stunts to full scale Hollywood feature films, from exploration for exploration’s sake to clear scientific and conservation goals, and the pioneering of innovative photo and film techniques – all increased in intensity. Throughout those years, Wes was the central node in the social network that he referred to as his “tribe”, a group of fiercely independent personalities who somehow let themselves be directed by Wes. When Wes called, we all showed up – we trusted his vision and leadership, irrespective of how hair-brained the scheme appeared. The same faces you see in his photos from the 80s were diving and working with him up to the day he died, devoted friends through thick and thin, and there was plenty of both.
Throughout the maturing of these projects, and under the nastiest of pressures, Wes rarely lost sight of the core values and ultimate motivation of fun, friendship, and family. On our recent National Geographic Bahamas expedition, under the gun to finish both stills and HD, Wes pulled the plug on shooting, flew Terri and Tessa over to join our crew that already included Nathan, and we took advantage of a big swell and spent the next few days surfing, freediving, and hanging out around Pete’s Pub. To recount the lessons that Wes taught me about prioritizing, both above and below ground, would take volumes. An unstoppable mental slide show of Skiles’ vignettes regularly plays in my head, reminding me of the range of experiences we had; sitting together, stunned, on the edge of the drop-off into the San Agustin sump when we got news of Sheck’s death; seeing Wes’ sh$t-eating grin underwater after emerging from a long no-vis passageway (where he had left me behind); his chewing me out for bragging about laying a bunch of line, but not having surveyed the area; his chasing my dog around trying to kill her after she stole his dinner yet again; his dressing me up in ridiculous monster outfits, putting cyalume sticks in front of my eyes, and dragging me through Devil’s Eye with no way to clear my ears by myself; his nonchalantly revealing another unexplored hole in the woods by his house that I’d driven by for years without knowing anything was there; or spending the day with our families just cruising the rivers with a boatload full of fun gear, open to whatever adventure offered itself up to us. The list could go on and on, as I am sure it could for many who read this journal.
Cliches about having lived his life to its fullest, his limitless talents, and the unfinished business he had – from exploration to conservation – while all true, don’t do justice to Wes’ life. Wes was as complex a character as they come – self taught from A-Z, and willing to share his skills with anyone he deemed serious about learning. For me, he played the role of big brother, diving mentor, hell raising buddy, and most importantly, he taught me that challenges were not the exception, but the norm. The tougher the challenge, the calmer, more focused and Zen-like he became, and he took on adversity with humor, both underwater and on the surface. Selfishly, I have spent the last few weeks thinking about a future that won’t be, but what will remain with us are the countless experiences we had together that will never be taken away – from surfing, to tequila therapy, to dropping into the unknown depths of the earth together, to trading advice on raising kids and balancing family with our own selfish goals. The challenge we all face is to live up to the standards he set for taking on more than we think we can handle. Thank you, my brother from another mother, for setting the bar so high.
Photo of Tom Morris, Kenny Broad, Wes Skiles, and Nate Skiles geared up for a dive on the recent expedition to dive the Blue Holes of the Bahamas featured in the August issue of National Geographic magazine by Luis Lamar.