SUNDRE — A close friend of a local man whose life was recently tragically cut short fondly recalls a passionate outdoorsman as well as an extraordinary and selfless person who seemed destined to randomly cross paths with people who needed help.
Dan Feil, 46, a married father of four, died on Saturday, Jan. 23 in a single-vehicle rollover crash west of Sundre on Rge. Rd. 72 near Bearberry in Mountain View County.
“He was my absolute best friend,” Nathan McCullough said when contacted on Jan. 29, adding the two were “almost inseparable.”
News of his friend’s untimely death, which came on the heels of the loss of his father Don who died of cancer in June, “came as a shock.” But one can only roll with the punches life throws at us, he said.
“We can’t change yesterday. So, we just move on and embrace the memories and look out for each other, and that’s all we can do.”
They initially first became acquaintances about 25 years ago, when McCullough’s father Don served on the Sundre Fire Department. Feil, who was about eight or nine years McCullough’s senior, joined the department, leading to their eventual introduction.
“As I got older, we started kind of finding common ground. And then when I joined the fire department at 18, him and I became compadres on the fire department for 12 years,” he said.
“As we both got older, our lives intertwined a little bit more with each passing moment.”
Asked what his fondest memory of his friend was, McCullough laughed heartily and said, “We could talk like this for hours.”
“There were even times where I thought he was never going to go home!” he chuckled.
“He would just show up here and we’d sit around a fire and he’d just stay, because there was so many stories that we would always share, that it just seemed that it would run into all hours of the night.”
He described Feil as perhaps the most carefree individual he’d ever met; someone who didn’t make a habit of second guessing himself once he’d committed to doing something.
“Speaking for myself and my family — he was always there to help at the drop of a hat,” said McCullough.
“When my dad passed away in June, Dan was the first one here — he was here within minutes of dad passing.”
Extraordinary
Dan didn’t think twice about offering a hand preparing arrangements for Don’s service, and “took all the time in his day to help make sure that we were on the right path to remember dad. He just never hesitated to take time out of his day to make sure you had what you needed. And it didn’t matter what it was, he just did it.”
But Feil also didn’t miss a chance to help complete strangers when an opportunity presented itself, with such situations frequently having a tendency to find him. McCullough described as "uncanny" his friend’s seemingly fated encounters.
“You could drive your car down the same road every day, and never see anyone on it with a flat tire. And Dan could drive that road twice, and see somebody on that road twice with a flat tire, and he would stop both times and help,” he said.
“It just always seemed to find him — or he always seemed to find the opportunities to be selfless. I’m not sure how it worked. But it was almost an unbelievable occurrence in life for how many times that man was put into a position to help somebody. And he never, ever batted an eye at it,” he said.
“I could probably try every day for the rest of my life to accomplish half the selfless acts that he did, and I don’t think I could even touch it. Dan had a luck about him. And I say luck because he just always found himself in a position where people — random people, random strangers — needed help, and he was always there, and he helped,” he said.
“Those are a lot of his stories.”
Some might call it coincidence, but McCullough isn’t convinced.
“It almost goes to make you believe that everybody has a role in life — whatever it is — and I truly believe that Dan was put here to help people. Because it just fell in his lap, always in his lap. And he embraced it, and he was able to help.”
Feil also always went above and beyond — it wasn’t as though he would just pull over and offer the use of his cellphone when for example a stricken motorist needed a hand.
“He always had something, or he went and got it,” McCullough said.
Without needing a moment to pause for thought, he said when asked how he would describe Feil in just one word: “Extraordinary.”
“You can go through your life, and you can try and make a focused effort on trying to do something good everyday, try to have a selfless act every day,” he said.
“Whatever selfless act you come up with is a good thing. But you would never, ever compare to how often he was selfless on a daily basis.”
Although they both retired from the fire department some 10 years ago, the friends never grew apart.
“We hunted avidly together, we fished together — as a matter of fact, we were on our way home from fishing together the day of his accident,” McCullough said.
“We had actually fished all day Saturday — we were on our way home. He was behind me in his truck,” he said, adding they were perhaps 10 minutes apart on the road coming back from Birch Lake.
“Fortunately — or unfortunately, I don’t know how you want to look at it — we weren’t there to witness what happened,” he said.
“I have comfort in knowing that the Friday and Saturday before his accident, him and I had spent both those days out fishing. If there was ever a time and a place that Dan had to go, it would have been involving something to do with that. It would have been coming home from an outdoor adventure, or being a part of an outdoor adventure — that was his domain.”
Passionate outdoorsman
McCullough, himself a father of four, seemed deeply grateful for the part Feil tirelessly played in inspiring his own children and setting a good example.
“He was a positive role model to all my kids,” he said, adding they all came to know him as Uncle Dan.
“We coached hockey together — he was always my assistant coach.”
McCullough also praised his friend’s deep passion for the outdoors.
“I mean, I have a passion for hunting and fishing, but it didn’t compare to what his passion was for it,” he said.
“My kids showed an interest in it, and he really instilled his passion for it in my kids, which was a passion that I couldn’t at the level that he brought.”
Feil was there to lend a hand when McCullough’s oldest son bagged his first ever deer.
“He was so proud and happy, and kind of elated.”
Even this past hunting season, McCullough’s middle son, who was experiencing his first real season, could always count on Feil’s enthusiastic and guiding presence.
“Every day we went out, Dan was there with us. Every single day. He wanted to be there to help,” McCullough said.
“I think this was the first year in 24 or 25 years of Dan hunting, that he himself did not shoot an animal. And that was because he was so focused on trying to help my son get his animal, that he put his own passion for it on the back burner and found the enjoyment in just trying to help. That was him.”
Feil found the time to do all of this outside of his full-time employment at West Fraser Sundre Forest Products, where he had worked for almost 30 years. He leaves behind his wife Amy and their four children — two sons and two daughters.
Sgt. Jody Achtymichuk of the Sundre RCMP detachment said no further updates on the rollover would be forthcoming.
Although Alex Clews, Sundre’s acting fire Chief, was not as close to Feil as McCullough, he nevertheless also considered him a good friend.
“He loved the outdoors, and was heavily involved in the community with hockey and the fire service,” said Clews.
“Pretty much everybody knew him. So, it’s pretty sad — the whole fire department’s hearts go out to his family and close friends at this tough time.”
Echoing some of McCullough’s sentiments, Clews said Feil “always had a positive attitude, always smiled and always had stories to tell. He was a great person in the community, great father and husband, and he’ll be deeply missed I’m sure by many, many people.”
While McCullough has a vast repertoire of memories to recollect about his close friend who also left an indelible impression on many others in the community, a large void remains.
“It’s going to leave a big hole, because I can guarantee you a good chunk of this community has a happy story of Dan, a head shaking story of Dan, a disbelieving story of Dan,” he said.
“But at some point, at some place, you’ve crossed paths with him and he was doing something good.”
