Below are the eulogies delivered at James’ funeral.
Selected History
John Lascelles (uncle)
My first memory of James on a bike was out at Belanglo. He was 5 and he was riding his BMX. He wanted to show us how he could do jumps, so he set up a plank over a pile of dirt at the bottom of a slope. He came tearing down the hill. He was a tubby little kid and not particularly graceful; I had an awful feeling it would end in tears. He hit the plank, did a big stack, and lay in the dirt bawling his eyes out. He did not look like a future world champion.
When James was 7 we did a family ride from Belanglo down to Bungonia, via Canyonleigh and Marulan. It was 80km – a long way for a little kid on a BMX – and the furthest any of us had ever ridden. I was up the front. We made it a rule that the kids had to stay behind the adults. But the problem was, James kept catching me. Meg called out to him, “Stay behind Gong, James!” Finally he couldn’t stand it any longer. He threw his bike to the ground and said “I can’t! Gongie’s too slow!”
It was a sign of things to come.
The next phase in James’s cycling were the RTA Big Rides. These were week long supported rides usually covering about 600 km with 1500 riders of all shapes and sizes and levels of ability. Geordie and James did 4 of these with Meg and me, and they loved it.
In 2000 James and I started cycle touring. We started off small with a 4 day ride from Yass to Moss Vale, via Bungonia and Crookwell. In October of that year we flew to Adelaide and rode back over 3 weeks. We carried a ton of stuff. We only had one day off the bikes, and it nearly killed me, but James thrived on it. That ride was a turning point for both of us. James had been in trouble at school – he’d been suspended twice – and he was going through the surly teenager phase. All that changed after the Adelaide trip: he settled down, became more focussed, and much happier. One of his teachers said, “I’ve never seen a kid change so much.”
And with all those miles in his legs, James was now ready for club racing. In November 2000 he joined the Southern Highlands Club and made a great impression. “It’s awesome!” he said, “you should join too!” So we did. James thrived in the club and gained a lot from older riders like Richard Vollebregt and Steve Jackson, and from younger riders like his training partner, Shaun Lewis.
In 2002 James tried to enter the Sydney 12 hour as part of a team. But he was late getting his entry in and missed out. However there were a few solo spaces left. He thought “what the heck, I’ll try solo.” He was only 19, which is very young for solo endurance racing. He won easily. The second placed rider crossed the line 20 minutes after James. This was the race that made people sit up and take notice. No longer was James just another kid on a mountain bike – he was now a phenomenon.
Over the next few years James won many more solo 12 hour races. Then he stepped up to 24 hour solo racing. It’s the most gruelling event you can imagine – they ride all day and night, with only a few short stops. In 2006 James won the Australian 24 hour Solo Championship, and in 2008 he took out the big one, the World 24 hour Solo Championship in Canmore, Canada.
Yet despite all these wins James never struck me as a competitive person. He was not obsessed with beating other riders – he just loved riding well.
7 years ago James stood up here and spoke at his mother’s funeral. Many of you were there that day, and you might remember he promised Leigh he would do 3 things: “I will live to make you proud. I will win bike races for you. I will get published for you, because it was always your dream.”
Well James, you certainly delivered old buddy, and we’re all going to miss you.
Letter to Jimi
Niki Fisher (partner)
Dear jimi,
I’m trying to come to terms with this reality. When I close my eyes I fantasize about seeing you, you smile your bright smile and hug me and life goes back to normal. This sadness is crippling me Jimi, how can I possibly get through this?
I remember only recently you arrived home late after racing an evening criterium, I was expecting you home at 8.30, but you didn’t walk through the door til after 9. I remember it clearly, it was one of the first times that I was confronted with the thoughts of not having you in my life, it seemed ridiculous, I guess up until this point in a sense I’d taken you for granted, it had simply never occurred to me that you might not be here one day, it was just assumed that we would live out the rest of our lives together. ‘This is crazy’ I kept saying to myself, of course you will always be with me. You eventually walked through the door with your bright smile and immediently life was back to the way it was meant to be. Now I have to come to terms with knowing that you aren’t coming home, I will never hear the sound of you unclipping your shoes at the front door and turning the key, the anticipation and excitement of hearing about your day or hearing about that great ride.
There are so many things I want to tell you, I want to tell you how lucky we are to have such wonderful friends and family who love us so much. I want to tell you that Meg and John are going to be ok, and marky and Geords too, I know how worried you would be about them.
Remember our walks into Brunswick st? I would always wear the wrong shoes and would end up walking bear foot by the time we arrived, the last time we went, it wasn’t that long ago, you waited patiently as I hobbled along and then took me into a shoe shop and bought me a new pair of shoes, I’m wearing them now.
Jimi you made life so good, life made sense and you made me feel like it was ok just being me, I felt like you always understood me, it was almost like i didn’t even need bother explain, like we use to say, we’re in sync. I was always so grateful that we valued the same things, appreciated the little things. Now I feel so hollow like I’ve lost a part of myself, knowing that I will never again laugh with you, share long car trips with you and wake up next you, all the things that made me feel so happy to be alive, so utterly grateful for this life that I was given. Now everything is so different.
For as long as I remember knowing you Jimi, you’ve always been there to talk to. I came to depend on you way back when we were just friends getting to know one another. I looked forward to our conversations so much. I was in awe of your integrity, your perspectives on people and life, I’d never met anyone like you and I always knew that I would never meet anyone like you ever again.
It’s a strange place that I’m in at the moment Jimi, had we of not met I would not be feeling this pain, my life would be relatively normal I guess, but Jimi it’s because of you that I know I’m going to be OK, I am going to get through this. It’s hard for me to explain but I think for all who were close to you would understand. Your strength and honesty was inspiring, it was impossible not to be effected by your energy, you encouraged everyone to be their best.
It’s hard to remember my world before I met you, but what I do know is that what you gave me is so much more than a loving relationship, you opened my mind. Life can be tough, life can be miserable, but you demonstrated that it’s possible to overcome hardships and it’s possible to grow and become stronger and wiser. With determination it is possible.
Jimi I admired you so much, I respected you more than anyone I’d ever met. Your humility and strength of character will be fresh in my memory for the rest of my life, your energy will live on, for I know that every decision I make, every corner I turn will be guided by your influence, motivated with your courage and inspired with all the love and happiness you brought to my life.
Reminiscences
Peter Hatton (friend)
James would always see the brighter side of life. He never took himself too seriously and he and I would often laugh, about the endless training, early mornings, suffering and lack of motivation that can accompany bike racing.
At times we’d question why we do it, but James would always remind me. It’s because the fun times are there, there’s always tough times, as in life that you’ve got to get through, but we knew that the good times were worth it, James would always remind me; “You’ve just gotta have fun man, or otherwise what’s the point!”.
After talking about bikes and life, the next most talked about topic James and I had, had to be about our relationship adventures. From the moment Niki and James got together I was wrapped because I knew this would be a serious relationship and I was looking forward to hearing tales of woe and suffering (other than my own) that accompany all serious relationships.
For example, just a couple of months ago my wife Cristina and I stayed with James and Niki for a few days. I remember James telling me a story about how he had tried, but failed miserably to assure Niki that he was committed to her. Unfortunately for James he muddled his words a bit and it came out more like he had never really thought about commitment before. Well as you can imagine, there was severe backlash for this mis-communication which James recounted in detail much to my amusement. Of course, James was able to clarify the situation and I know how much he loved you Niki. Together, you gave off an almost childlike innocence that belied such a deep friendship.
James was the kind of guy you would never not want to be around; Every time, I looked forward to seeing him and was always disappointed to say goodbye. I know the thing I’ll miss most about James though is his exceptional smile and infectious laugh.
I’d just like to read a piece of writing I once heard. It’s a paragraph quoted from a book called The Thorn Birds by Colleen Mcullough, and I believe it sums up James’ life beautifully.
There is a legend about a bird which sings just once in its life, more sweetly than any other creature on the face of the earth. From the moment it leaves the nest it searches for a thorn tree and does not rest until it has found one. Then, singing among the savage branches, it impales itself upon the longest, sharpest spine. And dying, it rises above its own agony to out-carol the lark and the nightingale. One superlative song, existence the price. But the whole world stills to listen and God, in his Heaven, smiles. For the best is only bought at the price of great pain or so the legend says.
Career
Russell Baker (MTBA president)
I have been asked today to talk to James Williamson the Professional, and I am extremely proud to be able to do so.
From the whole mountain biking community in Australia, I extend our condolences to James’ family, to Mark, Meg and John; to his riding partner in the Cape Epic and so many other races, Shaun Lewis and to Niki, his partner in life. But to think that James’ family stopped there is to admit you do not know James Williamson, one of the most popular riders to grace our trails.
To say that I have raced James Williamson would be a gross exaggeration, but the nature of endurance mountain biking is such that the ordinary get to ride on the same track, at the same time, as the extraordinary.
James started riding at an early age – we think 3 ½ – and although identified early as a talent, he really came to notice in the Sydney 12 hour when Richard Vollebregt phoned the organiser Stu Plant a few days before the race asking if this kid he knew could enter as a Solo rider, and, to quote Richard, ‘that he might do alright’. That was the start of James’ solo career and from that day onward, making the Sydney 12 hour his own with a string of successive victories, most of us got to know the sight of James’ back very well for those fleeting seconds it was visible as he flew past.
Face to face, it was a different story. James’ perpetual smile seemed to many to be too good to be true, but it wasn’t. It reflected a loving and giving personality that has seen him make friends and earn respect the world over. He always had a kind word at the end of a race, no matter where he or other riders had finished.
James rode for many years for Giant, and it might surprise many of you to learn that James never had a contract with them. Theirs was a relationship built on the sort of trust only possible with James. He was not seen as a sponsored rider, he was seen as a friend. One who would put his results at risk in order to look after those who supported him. We all know that James won the 2006 Australian Solo 24 Hour championship, but he also did it on a prototype dual suspension bike that Giant had asked him to ride, even though duallies were rare on the podium back then. A couple of weeks later at the Bike Show in Melbourne, the bike, with James Williamson emblazoned on the tube, and the number 1 and Kowen Forest dust both still firmly in place, was a quiet and yet as defining a statement as James made while riding it. If anything, Giant were frustrated by James’ insistence that he do too much for them. While they will treasure the memories of his victories, some of their fondest memories are of James staying back to help pack up the trailer after a session with young riders. They didn’t lose a rider, they lost a mate, and they have lots of company.
It was in Canada at Canmore, Alberta in the shadow of the Rocky Mountains in 2008, that James announced himself to the rest of the world’s riders in the World Solo 24 Hour Mountain Bike Championships. He led home a charge of Australian riders to take a green and gold 1,2,3,4 in that race. I was privileged to witness that race and my lasting memory is of James in the pit row, staring down the great Tinker Juarez as night fell and the heavens opened to create some atrocious riding conditions. He was well supported by his family but also by local North American team staff. When you speak to them, you would expect comments about James as a great rider, but their first comment is always about James the person.
His team mates have made sure that James is not remembered only as a solo endurance rider. He was highly ranked in the Olympic format of the sport and also at his best when riding in competitive teams in our major 24 hour races, some of the largest events in the world. The smile was there, as it always is, when they won in Canberra last year but you had to be there to feel the collective joy that James, Andy, AJ and Lewie displayed at the end of the race.
I have spoken about James the Professional in the sense that we normally define a professional rider, but I would like to talk about true professionalism, which means to profess, or to stand for something. This is where James stood apart with his behaviour, his personal values and his love for the sport of mountain biking which saw him take on the editorship of Enduro magazine. This was a product of his love for the sport, and in partnership with Niki he produced a magazine of outstanding quality. His articles were insightful, relevant but above all, honest. I am sure that many of us would envy the ability to make our passion our profession in the way that James did.
Enduro was the way that James touched countless mountain bikers who never had the opportunity to meet him personally. I have lost count of the emails and phone calls I have received, all starting with, ‘I never met James Williamson, but …’
We should never lose sight of the phenomenally strong partnership with Niki that was behind Enduro. The bonds that keep two together at home, while riding and while working must be strong indeed. Rarely separated, Niki and James have given us all something special.
I am personally grateful for the assistance that James gave many younger riders in developing their own mountain biking, selflessly taking time to pass on many of his hard won lessons. Whether it was with individuals or with school groups, James was never too busy to come out and inspire the next generation.
That James will be missed is a blinding understatement. His passing has left a gap on our trails and an emptiness in our hearts that can never be filled. The riders of Australia have spontaneously commemorated his life and achievements at recent events and I am confident that will continue and mature into a lasting and deserving tribute to James. We can only be thankful for the small mercy shown James in that he was taken from us as he will be remembered; at his best, doing something he loved, and with love and happiness in his life.
As for his James’ everlasting smile, I am sure that is present now as he looks down on us, confident in the knowledge that in the great race of life, he has, like in so many races before, beaten us all to the finish.
Jimbo
Geordie Williamson (brother)
Jimbo was a champion.
When I heard the horrible news I was overseas. In shock I kept repeating “Jimbo is a champion”, “Jimbo is a champion”. I was with friends who had never met Jimbo and I don’t think they understood. You should be sad because he is your brother, not because he was a champion I felt them saying. Of course I meant champion in the australian sense. Jimbo was a champion in pretty much everything he undertook: in his writing, his relationships, his editing of Enduro, and, of course, his riding.
When preparing a speech for Mum’s funeral I remember feeling how futile it is to try to sum up someone you have spent years getting to know, and who has become a part of you. I have the same feeling with Jimbo.
There is, however, one aspect of Jimbo which never ceased to blow me away. This was his dedication, generosity and loyalty to those he loved.
An example of this was when he convinced me to race in the 2002 Mont 24 hour, a mountain bike race in Canberra. “You’ll be right Geords, it will just be like when we were riding around at Belanglo” he convinced me over the phone. I arrived and before I knew it Jimbo had me on his old Kona, and we were out doing a practice lap.
Early in the lap I pedalled a bit too enthusiastically and snapped the chain. Jimbo stopped, fixed me up and we were off again. Back on the bike I somehow managed to snap the chain again, and got a flat.
I had serious doubts back at base. Jimbo reassured me: “Don’t worry Geords, you’ll be right. You’ll get used to it. I’m sure you’ll go really well.” I ended up having a wonderful time. Out on the track I would regularly hear a voice behind me shouting encouragement, before he sailed past me with that beautiful style. It seemed that Jimbo spent his entire time off the bike chatting to everybody, and making sure all were enjoying themselves.
He loved and believed in those close to him like no-one else I have ever known.
I remember when we were little every family member’s birthday was almost sacred for Jimbo. Jimbo always gave the best presents. On one birthday Jimbo and I were digging a hole. For some reason I lost it, threw a tantrum and yelled “this is the worst bithday I’ve ever had”. Jimbo did everything he could for the rest of the day to cheer me up. He also never forgot this incident!
When we were teenagers Jimbo convinced me to start working around the house in the holidays. First we built a wood-shed for Mum, then laid stone steps out the back, then paved in front of the house, and finally (with help from Mum and Dad) started work on two new bedrooms. I followed each of Jimbo’s suggestions happily. It was such fun working with him, and listening to Pearl Jam. He never said it, but I am sure his motivations were deeper: he had a sympathy for how hard it was for Mum sometimes, and how little improvements can make a big difference.
It is incomprehensible that he is gone; the shock is still raw in all of us.
I would like to finish by reading a excerpt from an editorial by Jimbo. It’s about Johnny Waddel, a mountain biker and friend of Jimbo’s, who suffered a life changing injury in 2003. Jimbo had just been in hospital with his own injury, a broken collarbone.
He writes:
I came away with a renewed awareness of how anything can happen at any time and it can turn your life upside down. It’s easy to forget that.
Which leads me to Johnny Waddell. With my arm in a sling I wanted to get on with work, so I interviewed Johnny. With the reality of hospital still fresh in my mind his story was all the more powerful.
Imagine being at the top of your sport on the world scene and then, one day having it all taken away from you. A life turned upside down indeed. So, taking gradual steps in a long, slow recovery proces you have to come to terms with the fact that your life will never be the same again. You’ll never be what you were.
Big things to deal with, a bit more important than having someone steal your park at the local shopping centre. But that’s the point. Out of hardship comes refreshing pespective. Johnny has a matter of fact manner that suggests a distance from all that life cluttering nothingness.
This is why our sport is so inspiring. It’s not the act of pedalling around in the dust, it’s what it represents, the amazing character it takes to achieve what people like Johnny have achieved. A race offers a framework for these characters to shine through. You can rubbish physical accomplishment, say its full of ego and immature competition best left at the school yard, but walking away from my chat with Johnny I can’t help think this argument barely scratches the surface.
Our sport may be simple, but in my experience, fulfilment rarely comes from complexity.
Jimbo, you are a champion.
I remember after Mum died you would reassure me “we will get through this”. We will mate, but will miss you for the rest of our lives.
Reflections
Shaun Lewis (friend and riding partner)
James and I met through cycling, here in the Southern Highlands, where we spent years battling around together at the back of races. We would often talk about racing and dream of riding fast!
Nearly 10 years later, James floated the idea of racing the Cape Epic, the Worlds Biggest MTB stage race. He would send me through photos of the event and say ‘Lewy, we have to do this one day!’
2010 was the year, everything lined up and we were there.
The days in Cape Town leading into the race went fast… riding, sight seeing and meeting new people- something James really loved. He summed it up on his blog with the words…. ‘So yeah, all up it was damn fun.’
Before we knew it we were racing, we didn’t talk much as we raced, we didn’t need to. We knew each other so well that we could sense how each other felt.
We rode hard, pushing each other the whole way.
A great example of this was on the railway track section, where at the end of stage 1, after 110k of MTBing, the course had 7 k’s of rough and rocky uphill railway tracks. I led us into it and set the tempo, we were traveling well, having passed 2 teams.
Then I blew up! Everything hurt, my arms, legs, neck, even my kidneys were in pain from the beating of the railway sleepers. James later told me he was in the same situation. I pulled over and stopped. I told James I couldn’t go on. James gave a few words of encouragement and kept riding, hurting as much as me, but he knew we couldn’t stop. I reluctantly got back on my bike and followed James, he eased up to wait for me, and we rode the final kilometer of the railway tracks, then down into the finish. Without Jimi, I would not have got there. I didn’t think I could do it,…. he knew we could.
That was in stage 1, stage 2 was great with heaps of singletrack, and we improved a few places on our stage 1 result. It was in the afternoon after stage 2 that James and I had our last great moments together, as we often did after races. Sitting on the grass in the shade, we talked about everything. It was a relaxed conversation; James said he was so happy with his life at the moment. He had setup his life as he wanted it, and he said there was nothing he would change.
We spoke to some of the event staff as they past by and we told them how much we loved this race. They later recalled this by remembering James’ smiling face and enthusiastic tones. James and I agreed that “We were living the dream” and we would be back to this race again. At one point James was complaining that his little legs hadn’t got much bigger since he had been cycling, and that he had to work that much harder than me. He joked that I was his muscle, I laughed, then replied, ‘Jimi you are my heart.’ After checking our bikes and eating dinner that night, we said good night and went off to our tents for bed.
James didn’t wake up the next morning.
Later that day, I was on my own, reflecting on life, when I bumped into a local man, Frans. He and his wife had been running a canteen, not far from where we were sitting on the grass the previous afternoon. As everyone was, Frans was aware that someone had passed away over night. When he saw me on my own, he knew straight away, that my mate who I had sat with on the grass, was the one. He recalled to me that they had been watching us and how we had been laughing and looked so happy.
James, you were so much to so many people. I will miss our conversation and your advice James, you helped me find who I was and together we shared so many good times – like that day on the grass… laughing and happy…
And that is how I will remember you James.
Memories
Adam McNeil (friend)
When I heard of James’ death, I was shocked and saddened. Dealing with the loss of James, for all of us present today, is extremely difficult. When offered the chance to speak today – to reflect on James’ life on behalf of his school friends – well, the thought of doing a speech that would do his life justice was confronting. Yet, I am here today to push beyond the sadness. To speak of James’ life in front of his closest friends, family and colleagues is an honour. So, please bear with me as I try to do justice to the champion guy that was James Williamson.
For as long as I can remember I have referred to James as Jimbo. Some other nicknames attributed to James include Willow, Jimi, and delving deeper into James’ childhood, the name Marty Bella rings a bell. For those of you who don’t know, Martin Bella was a well known Rugby League prop in the 80s and 90s. Some of you might be wondering how this relates to Jimbo, well here is the explanation. As a child James was very fit, but he was also quite a chubby fella and because of this he was often used in our footy games as our human battering ram. Hence, Jimbo showed the same qualities as Marty Bella. More often than not the name Marty Bella would pop up when Jimbo and I would reminisce about the good old days. No matter what name you know James by, they all represent a great bloke who had a huge smile and always showed a positive outlook on life.
Jimbo is my best mate and our friendship has been ongoing for a long time. Our paths first crossed at Gumnut preschool in Bowral, we both moved on to St Paul’s Primary Moss Vale and then we ventured to high school, which is here at Chevalier College, and then a few years after school life we both ended up living in Canberra. This time offered us plenty of opportunities to laugh, cry, joke, play sport and support each other in times of need. Most importantly, this time gave us the chance to enjoy each other’s company. When we were together I think “little rascals” would best describe us. During our time together, we never had an argument, probably because we were too busy laughing and carrying on. There was, however, one time that I recall when Jimbo embarrassed me. It was Year 7 Maths and we were new to the school and trying to get to know all the new students. Jimbo happened to let it slip to the whole class that I wet my pants in Kindergarten, and then he followed it up by saying that I did it again in Year 2. I guess that is what happens when you spend so much time with your mates – they know you inside and out.
The Williamson home at Belanglo was significant to the lives of many of James’ school friends. Many memories of our childhood relate back to the times experienced at Belanglo. It would all begin when our parents drove us to where the highway meets the dirt road. We would all wait in anticipation for Mark or Lee, who would arrive in a Subaru to take us down to the remote location of the Williamson property. Once at the property there were many activities for us to take part in, including camping and swimming at Black Bob’s Creek, hiking, mountain biking, yabbying, soccer, and sometimes we even stirred up the local wildlife. Building fires and playing with candles was always a favourite. I still remember sitting in the hidden cave with Jimbo and friends and we were playing a game with candles. The aim was to see who could get the most hot dripping wax on their hands without complaining (I am surprised that none of us ended up with 3rd degree burns). Jimbo would enjoy me saying this, that the majority of his friends learnt to drive in a Subaru. A drive in the old yellow beast was always high on the list of “to do” activities. Belanglo allowed us the freedom to be creative and active. It taught us that you don’t necessarily need all the mod cons to have fun and it gave us the chance to do things that we were not able to do in town, and this is why I believe it is so significant in the lives of many of Jimbo’s school friends.
Geordie, you too were important in the life of Jimbo and his friends as we grew up. You were a big brother to all of us and you were always involved in our adventures. Most of the time you were our fearless leader as you organised and structured our adventures. We all know that Jimbo had a great sense of humour and I believe that he would appreciate me mentioning some of the more amusing things that happened to us when we were with you. On one particular day, yabbying was the choice of activity for Jimbo, Geordie and I, so we packed our gear and went for a very long hike. It took about an hour to get to the destination, a nice dam just off the main dirt road. Everything was fine until we noticed a bus full of Police on the side of the road. When we got closer a Police Officer was guarding the access road to the dam. We had no idea what was going on and thought it all very strange. Our fearless leader Geordie did the talking to the Police Officer and we were able to yabby at the dam. Jimbo and I couldn’t believe our luck. Geordie had made our day. We did end catching a few yabbies that day and the Police didn’t hassle us. We later found out that the Police were scouring the bush for evidence on the Ivan Millat case.
The next story, funnily enough, involves Police again, and Geordie once again talked his way out of things. Geordie was driving Jimbo and I around Moss Vale at night and the police pulled us up randomly. Jimbo and I sat in the car very quietly and the Officer got Geordie out of the car and asked him for his licence. Unfortunately, Geordie had left his licence back at Belanglo. Jimbo and I looked at each other and went “this is not good”. The amusing part of this story for Jimbo and I, was when Geordie was under interrogation he pulled out his dad’s gun licence as ID. We burst out in laughter and couldn’t believe what he had done. The Policeman, however, thought this was reasonable and after more chatting and some phone calls back to home we were allowed to continue on. Geordie I am sure that Jimbo would agree with me when I say that we shared many enjoyable times together.
When offered the chance here to reflect on Jimbo’s school life I thought it appropriate to ask some of Jimbo’s close school friends for some words or lines that they felt best represented their mate. The responses included: Jimbo was a unique person that was always so much fun, a calm, kind friend. Jimbo was diabolical as well as inspirational. Jimbo expressed enthusiasm and he loved to analyse. Jimbo was genuine, gentle, warm, kind-hearted and he had the wittiest and most brilliant sense of humour. Jimbo was playful. Jimbo was dedicated and always gave 100 per cent and Jimbo was, simply, a champion.
As I said earlier, for all of us gathered here today it will be difficult to say goodbye to Jimbo. We can all draw comfort knowing that Jimbo put in 26 awesome years – he changed our lives simply by knowing us. He will continue to change our lives as his memory lives on in us all. Every one of us here today has benefited from knowing Jimbo – yet the benefits do not have to stop here. We can all take something away from Jimbo’s life – and that is to live life to the fullest.
I’m sure all of Jimbo’s school friends gathered here today can attest to his brilliance, his positive attitude, his honesty, his compassion, his loyalty, his humour. All of us here today loved a genuinely warm individual, and certainly one that will be missed greatly.
“It’s been a pleasure and an honour knowing you Jimbo and I will miss you mate”.
Jimi
Dylan Cooper (friend)
I consider myself to be one of James’ closest friends. I was fortunate enough to share many fun and also deep experiences with Jimi. So I’d like to share why they’re important to me.
We all know Jimi, how amazing he was, so I won’t harp on about that. Besides, he didn’t like to make a big deal about things, especially himself.
I met Jimi in late 2003. His first Canberra club race, after moving there to study. And my first race after being off the scene for years. So neither of us knew each other or anyone else. I remember a point in the race where I punctured and he came by, slowing down and genuinely offering his spares. I said I was ok. But soon after that he punctured. I rolled past, feeling bad, but he was still smiling and we just joked about it.
That’s all we needed to ‘click’. We had a good chat at the end and right away I knew this guy was extra nice. Not due to what he said or did, but how. His manner, his aura, and his intoxicating smile. I knew I wanted to be mates with this dude.
I became extra good friends with Jimi during a training camp in Thredbo soon after. Straight away we got on too well, behaving like boys at a school camp. Mucking up, talking until all hours, giggling endlessly. He made me feel like I didn’t have a worry in the world. Life was purely fun.
As it turned out we ended up travelling the world together. Then we lived together for years. With our good friend Noguchi, the also with Lewie and Claire. Those were truly the best times of my life. And Jimi was central to that. We were inseparable, spending almost 27/7 together. An in 6 years we never argued, ever.
So Jimi and his effect on people was special, as we know. But knowing him at the deepest, most intimate level, I discovered just how much. His attentiveness, openness and honesty were profound. As was his emotional maturity and his ability to make you want to be a better person without saying anything. And he was always there for you when it mattered. For the first time ever I truly loved a man.
But I know I’m not along. I’m confident his outlook on life and his vibrant personality had an impact on us all. Many of us probably have two lives: the pre-James and post-James days.
The reason I want to tell you all this is because Jimi’s mum’s death had a huge impact on him, which is what made him an exceptional and inspirational human being. He took his energy and created a positive and inspiring energy in order to live his life to the fullest. That’s why he achieved so much and touched so many, but in such a modest and unassuming way. He’s done more in 26 years than most do in 90.
So I want to ensure we all remember that about Jimi, and do as he did. To remember that life really is short and precious. We can’t sit around complaining, being nasty, or just waiting for things to happen.
These are the things Jimi valued, so Id like to leave you with what he’d want us all to remember.
Don’t waste your well-being. Take care of your health
Don’t be lazy or take things for granted
Laugh at things. Nothing’s that big a deal
Accept people of other backgrounds and cultures
Don’t get complacent. Put yourself out there
Always take time out for others
And, most importantly, enjoy your food!
We love you Jimi. We’ll miss you, but you’ll always be with us.
James
Meg Patey (aunt)
James was always someone who noticed and cared about people – as a little boy, he would get anxious if Mark was late to come home. He followed Mark around, and later, as he grew older, he watched Leigh, worrying about whether everything was OK for her or not. He noticed everything.
Into highschool, he made strong friendships, he loved his friends (while also developing his famous sense of humour) – pictures of friends adorned his bedroom walls, these pictures followed him to his bedroom walls in Canberra and were slowly overtaken by favorite cycling occasions and cycling friends. For many years, the pictures on his walls, were his reminders, of the people who were important to him. More recently, they were bundled up, alongside boxes of no longer needed kitchen untensils, and clothes, and left at our place, as he moved house several times, and became stronger. It was as though, he didn’t need these visual reminders so much any more.
I know everyone loves their family, and their friends, but with James somehow, it was different…..he really noticed you, cared about you and every relationship he had seemed to matter – a strong characteristic of James’s.
When Leigh died, he was very very sad. He was 20. He said at the time, I don’t know how I am going to cope.
How did he find his strength to carry on.
I think, to begin with, there were just little steps each day…and he had his riding. But important for him, also, were people.
James loved to meet new people, to hear their stories, particularly stories from those who had to overcome challenges, hardships, or those who were just crazily passionate about what they were doing. They inspired him. This was the life that appealed to him; he cared about, a life, which was meaningful and well lived.
Somehow, over the years, with all his listening, asking questions, interviewing, traveling, and meeting even more new people, hearing new stories, he sort of took all of this information into himself; digested it all, reflected on it all, and used this to learn about himself, to integrate it into his own life, to gain strength and confidence.
Of course, it was not always straight sailing. Like many of us, there were times when James struggled, lacked confidence, felt sad…..but he kept looking out, being receptive to noticing others, their stories, their reflections, and we all could see a new James growing stronger and stronger each year, until he became what we all know today, an inspiration to us all.
I also, like you, feel bewildered at what has happened to James. But I keep with me the thought that we have known James. Imagine a world where we never even knew him….how much we have all gained from having this wonderful person with us for his 26 years. He is there, in all of us, his conversations, jokes, his perky energy, his cheeky comments, his writings, his life…..our memories, remember all this, and don’t let that energy for living, which James had so strongly, die in us.
My Son
Mark Williamson (father)
A child is a wonder, a privilege, a responsibility and with luck a marvelous pleasure. Nowhere else are we granted such power to form an individual. Hopefully, a wonder in deed also.
Jimbo: My little big man. My hero.
As a toddler you discovered choughs. Choughs are a ground foraging bird that live in small flocks, the nearest thing that Australia has to a native chook. Black and slightly smaller than a crow with white spots on their wings and two characteristic calls. James would listen carefully, find out where they were and then crawl to them. Leigh was delighted, free babysitting. All she had to do to find you was listen for the choughs calls. You were be sitting amongst those calls.
Was this your first experience of tribe, of community? Was this your first delight with nature? Is this why you always held Community and Nature so dear.
A little later you came howling with a sore hand. I wrapped a bandage around it.
“Dad, what do I do with my hand till it gets better.”
“Place it on your chest and when it is better you can start using it again.” That hand stayed on his chest for four days.
You explained to me that the hand was better and that you could start using it again.
You’d got me. Self-care, focus, self-discipline on full display.
Also I noted the honesty implied through action.
In you little things created big responses.
So Jimbo, what were your down sides?
You were totally unresponsive to discipline.
Unless you decided to do something you couldn’t be made to do a thing. Intractable in a word.
That self-focus and self-conviction, meant Leigh and I needed to help you see the big world. Add to that your lack of self-confidence and often unresponsive nature and the task becomes apparent. Another example of the little big man. It took us too long to get near the bottom of the causes of those issues that underlay your nature. In ways my own behavior in did not help.
Your adolescence was tough. With friends you discovered humor, I joked that you ran the “A” list at school. With no friends about, it was boredom. Boredom, boredom, till you found bikes and Subarus. Your implacability, and our lack of understanding made for miserable times.
Two scenes from your adolescence:
Just after you got your car license you had a furious row with me. In spite of your quiet nature it took courage and conviction to raise the issues you did. You had to step forward. Qualities I admire. Yet another example of the little big man. And from what you knew you were correct.
As you stormed up to your room I said to Leigh “Go and get the car keys from all the vehicles and give them to me. I’ll watch James. ” Having found your car keys missing, you stormed back into the room demanding the keys.
I said, “You are too angry to drive. I am happy to take you into town or you can phone your friends but you are not driving anywhere. “
Next morning, still angry, the first thing he said to me was
“You were right. I was too angry to drive,” self-awareness and honesty intact. The underlying issue that caused the row took six years to solve.
The second scene:
At the end of year 11 Leigh and myself went to see the headmaster and deputy about James. We were told that if he got a pass in the HSC the school would be happy.
I said, “You recognize he is bright?” “Yes” was the headmaster replied.
“You also recognize that he unless he decides to do something all of us can have little influence.” I then asked that the school not abandon him. Later both John Lascelles and myself quietly pointed out to you that the HSC was one test of many in life.
The first inkling we had that he was working was the next parent teacher interview. All remarked on your changed behaviour. You left Chev with a UAI in the nineties. The best turnaround the deputy had seen. When I asked you what had you done?
Your reply, honest as always was, “I moved to the front seat and concentrated.” And Yes, you still managed the “A” list.
What impressed me was what honesty was building. From little things done right big things were growing.
At this stage you lost your mum. A dreadful blow. Slowly, firmly you rose and went forward.
I will never forget your words after Leigh died;
“Dad, just imagine if one of us had died first, mum would be inconsolable.” Did you know your own fate?
Your writing was elegant celebration of your love for Leigh.
Biking combined your loves of tribe, nature, the physical, machinery and fun. Let me leave your riding record and go straight onto your writing.
To write well implies honesty. Honesty is needed not only for fact but also for the language used and for accumulating integrity.
James your writing has all those qualities. It also has verve, joy, humor, fun and your trademark smile written all over it. Not to mention the tribal loves built into sensilibilty and text. Nothing saddens me more than to consider a future without your words.
The dreadful difficulties James had with me were not solved until two years ago. I received a card at Christmas time which said,
“Hey Dad thanks for being a great dad and being patient with me.”
Still the trademark honesty and self-deprecation on display. I cried.
James, this was splendidly lived life.
From seeing and doing simple things well you grew a big, beautiful world. Yes a little big life.
Through adversity you triumphed.
Jimbo, you are my hero.
My little big man has gone.
The service finished with a blessing by Father John Franzmann.
James Williamson 
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