There are moments in life that don’t announce themselves with fanfare or ceremony. They arrive quietly, leaving behind a memory that settles into your bones.
Nine of us taking an early morning walk Saturday, July 19 to scatter Marty Cheek’s ashes at Henry Coe State Park—a place he loved—was one of those moments.
Marty, who died Sept. 9, 2024, was more than a colleague and a friend. He was a spark—always asking questions, always searching for that next story, always reminding us that journalism is, at its heart, the glue that keeps a community together. When we lost him, we didn’t just lose a publisher, a writer or an editor. We lost someone who believed, deeply, in connection, and improving the quality of life—a term he consistently used—for everyone.
So when we gathered at the Visitor’s Center of the park above the morning marine layer and under a clear blue California sky and the hush of summer oak trees, it felt right. Not easy, but right.
Henry Coe wasn’t just a location for Marty. It was a place he returned to for clarity. He’d speak of the hills and trails with reverence, the way some people speak of old friends.
And it was his friends—Mark “Fenny” Fenichel, John and Michelle McKay, Lori Allen, Daniel Benefiel, Stu Nuttall and his son Calvin Nuttall, myself and my wife Kathryn—who took that walk with his ashes to the bench. (more about that bench later)
As we slowly climbed the winding trail to about 3,000 feet elevation where that bench sits beneath the remains of an enormous ponderosa, we spoke of Marty. How we each first met him, how he loved the park, his growing up in Hollister and his passion for journalism and the South Valley region.
Marty loved the view from that bench at the top of Pine Ridge. According to Benefiel—a Henry Coe Park uniformed volunteer, past president of the Pine Ridge Association and now a board member—Ponderosa Pines are abundant in the park, specifically along Pine Ridge overlooking the Santa Clara Valley.
Looking southeast, you can see various mountain peaks toward the city of Hollister. You can almost see Monterey Bay and, that morning, the marine layer slowly receded as the day warmed.
Once we all got to the top and gathered our breath as the hustle and bustle of city life faded away, we gently spread his ashes across the top of the knoll, hoping at last that Marty is at peace.
Now, about that bench. It is in great condition, faces south, and is inscribed with the words “In memory of Eric David May from his family and friends.”
According to a story by Libby Vincent on the Pine Ridge Association website, in the summer of 1988, 26-year-old Morgan Hill resident Eric David May and his friend Fred King had just summited Mount Shasta. They were descending along the edge of a glacier when suddenly, Eric was gone. He fell 500 feet into a crevasse near the west headwall of Hotlum Glacier.
It took an hour for King to reach his friend, but it was too late. The bench is a tribute to Eric’s memory. According to King, “When Eric died, the world really lost a friend of the earth.”
We can only hope that Eric and Marty, friends of the earth, are watching over the park, and us.
