by Alec Dinner
Rob Coppolillo, Rob, Coppolillo, Rob Cop, Robitto, Roberto. Those are a few of the names I used to refer to the man who became my best friend in the spring of 1990 when I was completing my undergraduate studies at the University of Colorado, Boulder.
Rob was serial about calling all his friends by pet/knick names. He'd come up with for them for everyone, but until I met Rob I'd only had people make fun of my name. To Rob I was Al D! The exclamation point is there on purpose because it's essential to how my nickname was to be expressed - with the enthusiasm and a dramatic tone that belied the intimacy and respect Rob imbued with his gregarious nature in creating truly intimate connections with almost everyone he met, me especially.
The early 90's was magical time in my life where my passion for bikes found me riding stronger than ever having shed my teenage obsession with triathlon and fully committed to racing. It still seems unbelievable to me now that I was also only just embarking on what would become a dream career in the bicycle business with an internship at VeloNews working in the advertising
sales department. That opportunity, and my burgeoning friendship with Rob Coppolillo, forged on the bike through his keen interest in learning the ins and out of racing, was the moment of grace that would singularly potentialize the direction of Rob's impact on so many of you who he came to know and love in the 34 years since. What neither me, Rob, his brother Pete, or our mutual best friend Pete Isert, could have never imagined at the time is the sheer scale of the impact Rob would have on so many people like me, all whom are all grieving uncontrollably with the news of his tragic death in a mountaineering accident while guiding in British Columbia late this week.
My heart heaves for his wife Rebecca Yarmuth, young twin boys Dominic and Luca and of course, his twin brother Pete Coppolillo and sister Catherine Coppolillo. I'd give almost anything right now to change the truth of what's come to pass, but there is nothing to be done now but to allow ourselves to grieve however we must.
This rare picture of Rob taken during what might have been his first real race start, the Crested Butte Fat Tire Festival in 1991 (I think) says it all. Every piece of kit you see him wearing here was second hand stuff I gave him to jumpstart his then newfound passion for cycling. The bibs were from the Boulder Spoke who sponsored me as a triathlete. The Giro LeMond Air Attack Helmet featuring a Troy Lee Designs sticker kit that Troy Lee himself painstakingly applied for me at the NORBA National in Mammoth, CA earlier that year. The 1st generation Specialized Duralcan frame Rob is riding was borrowed from Lennard Zinn because they'd given it to him to test but, since VeloNews didn't really do bike reviews, Rob was gonna try and craft something journalistically relevant about it that skirted our no review stance at that time. That article, or perhaps another he wrote covering a race I did in Moab earlier that year, was the first story of any kind that Rob would publish in his now storied career as a journalist and author.
Everything so many of you know of Rob followed in quick succession in the years that followed, culminating with him becoming one of the most qualified, prepared, and sterling certified mountain guides working in commercial mountaineering today. The books he penned with his friend Marc Chauvin are held up as the gold standard for anyone hoping to take on the kind of adventures
Rob offered through his venerable Vetta Mountain Guides outfit. As tragic as it may seem it’s only fitting that Rob would leave this world we all so gratefully shared with him while following his bliss as only he could, and more importantly while unequivocally sharing it as safely as humanly possible with the friends and community he curated for us all in the mountains he loved only slightly less than he loved us.
Goodbye for now dear friend Robitto. You're the first person l'll be looking for when I find my way to whatever heaven you're chillin' in now. Watch over us from on high and protect us from the countless dangers that lay ‘nary a step away from our enjoyment of these outdoor activities we are so truly compelled to pursue.
Love Always,
Al D!
