Randy John Kanta

I first met Randy August of 1986. Mark Lombardi and I were on a cross country climbing trip and we stopped in Reno. Randy and "Skipper" took us to "the valley" and we climbed on "Manure Pile Buttress"! First time climbing in Yosemite for me. I believe we stayed with Randy and Nancy for a few nights, one of which I had food poisoning from an "all you can eat breakfast buffet" at one of the Reno casinos.

Since that first meeting, I had the incredible opportunity to meet up and go on some wonderful journeys with Randy. From an aborted attempt up the Grand Teton (NO, we did not get off route and I take responsibility for the fail!) to a fantastic trip down the Grand Canyon (2016) and enjoying a bunch of climbs and rivers in between. I can only wish that we were able to have more adventures together.

As most people have already stated, to know Randy was to know one of "the good ones". He was more than a friend. Even though we didn't get together often, it always felt like it was just yesterday when we were together last. He had a way of making you feel comfortable, welcome and at ease, whether it was the first time you met him or the hundredth. My wife, Maureen, would agree. I can only wish that I was able to have half of the qualities that he had.

Nancy, Anne and Christine, the Scheuer family sends their thoughts and prayers to you.

Randy, once again, you are on the sharp end for many of us. Please remember to protect the second on these long traverses through space and time! Let us know where the dangerous rocks and holes are. We look foreward to the day we rope up again and enjoy a good whiskey or GT at the next camp down river!

Rich, Maureen and Richie Scheuer

I miss Randy. I have been thinking about him and cannot ever seem to find the words to express how I miss my friend. He was my whisky drinking, belay-bitch, gossip girl, friend and support.

We met one night at the rock-climbing gym, when I needed a partner so I could complete the El Cap Challenge. Someone pointed me to him...I paused and said sure. He then could not be shown up by me and my climbing. So we climbed. And climbed all month. Then continued as climbing partners and friends. He has taken me on the river, shared tears and love. Been there to listen and offer advice.

This photo may be one of my favorite ones of the two of us. One morning while camping, he and I were chatting... gossiping... drinking our morning tea when someone came up on us and caught us in the act.

I send my love to all. Warm wishes. Hugs. And drink a sip of 4 roses for the man!

Shira

Nancy, Anne & Christine,
I feel very lucky to have spent time with all of you and Randy on rafting trips. I am sure Anne remembers "Go Gordy, Go Gordy" from our time on the south fork of the American. I am not sure if Anne was with us on the east fork of the Carson, but I know Christine was there. That is when I first met you.
Randy really was a special guy. He also helped introduce me to some really cool places in Death Valley.
The world was a better place with him in it. I miss him alot.
Gordon Tessman

Randy!
Here we were, two small town Midwestern flyover land kids, gratefully awestruck and
immersed in California’s wildness. You much more successfully than I, and you had many
years on me in that regard. I laugh at the following:
-our first meeting exploring Millerton Cave where you helped rescue me with my cracked
sternum
-swimming Hotel Hole in the chilly Merced my first time rafting
-loaning me an EZ Up to keep my mesh tent dry in May up at Kirch Flat, hey, who knew it
would RAIN? (everyone but me), where we had some of our first long conversations
-part of the group huddle in my tiny trailer by the propane heater for J. Tree Thanksgiving
-overserving me from your bottomless whisky flask one Tollhouse Faceoff
-running scary shuttle for you, Paul and Dave, as you dropped off the edge of Black Rock
Road for the day…
You were so much part of the story and part of all the crowd that, at my age, I have
recollections where ‘insert Randy here’ in my memory works just fine, even though
occasionally you were probably building a car wash somewhere, or on an epic motorbike trip
with your bike tribe.
Your presence and spirit is still so strong, coming to us all at this time of transition. You were
an intelligent and thoughtful companion, joyful, generous, accepting of quirkiness and a
wicked tease. We had long conversations about life lessons learned, work, health, business,
parenting. You were a great friend to Paul, who is his own individualist. I would often get calls
from him at the adventure day’s end, saying that he was ‘up at Randy’s, showered and
headed for (some sort of) bed’, and I was glad knowing he was safe and warm and with the
like-minded.
I selfishly sorely regret that we did not visit you after we knew how you were struggling
recently, I would so much liked to have had one last long chat. You were an independent,
proud and somewhat private man, however, and I sense you wanted to meet this on your own
terms.
You rarely said no to an adventure in life.
You deeply loved your family and you were a great provider.
I was lucky to be your ‘old lady’ friend.
Love, Holly Owen

I’m sorry to hear of Randy’s passing, and I’m sorry for your loss.

I didn’t know Randy well. In fact, I’ve only spent about two weeks in total with him many years ago, and we haven’t spoken since, but I’ve thought of him often.

In 2016 I was invited to raft the Gand Canyon with a group of 15 people, only two of whom I knew previously. At the end of my first day in the Canyon I received a text from my wife via my satellite messenger saying her grandfather had passed away. I was shaken up, especially with the realization that I could not get out of the canyon until we reached the bottom in a couple of weeks. Having only met Randy for the first time earlier that day, he instantly consoled me, and I felt like I had known him all my life. Looking back, I’m sure that’s just how he made people feel. That must have been his gift.

Randy was a mentor to me on that trip. I learned about rivers, but I also observed a man I wanted to learn from and emulate.

On the last night of the trip, our group decided to tie our rafts together and float the remaining miles under headlamp and a partial moon. I brought a little whiskey to share but Randy brought a lot, and we stayed awake the entire night, telling stories and laughing in the moonlight. When the sun rose the next morning, we were sad to finally realize the trip was coming to an end.

I was working as a photographer back then, but the photos I most enjoyed capturing were of people being who they truly were. When I clicked through to this tribute page, I was happy to see Randy again exactly how I saw him many years ago in a photo I took just after sunrise at the bottom of the Grand Canyon, headlamp still draped around his neck.

I’m sad that I didn’t get to know Randy better. I am a better person, having known him for only two weeks, and I can only imagine the impact he had on people who knew him much longer.

It's been a month since my father passed, and it has been really difficult. This deeply visceral grief has manifested physically, even causing me to develop heart palpitations.

The relationship I shared with my dad was complex. I turned 41 last week - a difficult milestone, as it was my first birthday without him and so soon after his death. The first two decades of my life were marked by turbulence: frequent arguments, prolonged cold silences, and severe punishments. Yet, those years were simultaneously characterized by an abundance of steadfast love and immense enjoyment. My childhood was an adventure filled with white water rafting, rock climbing, hockey, camping, motorcycle trips, and roughhousing. He was the person who consistently showed me what profound, overwhelming love looked like, but also intense, heartbreaking disappointment in me.

I'm so thankful that, as an adult, we thoroughly explored and discussed my childhood, leaving nothing unsaid between us.

Our relationship deepened and improved after I graduated high school and he began his life-threatening battle with Stage 4 cancer. He started treating me like the intelligent, capable adult I am, and we bonded on a more personal level. He often told me, "I love you and I like you." I cherish the memories of visiting him in Auberry where we would enjoy meals, drinks, conversation, and simply be merry together. He always said that he wants me to be happy, in whatever form that takes.

In 2020, during a whitewater rafting trip in Colorado, he developed pneumonia, necessitating a helicopter evacuation and ambulance ride to the emergency room. I believe he contracted COVID from the ambulance crew as the EMTs were the only people not wearing masks, and that is when everything changed. COVID wreaked havoc on a man who had once been so incredibly physically strong.

The decline was relentless over the next five years; nothing was ever the same. He waged a fierce but ultimately losing battle against his failing body, undergoing multiple surgeries, receiving implants, and participating in medical trials. Despite his physical deterioration -which eventually left him barely able to walk, stand, eat, or stay awake - his spirit remained strong and stubborn, fueled by a fierce desire to return to his former life.

The last five years of his life were secretly recorded by me. I have countless hours of recordings of him telling stories, picking on me, having open minded conversations, laughing and joking with me, and he went on and on about how much he loved and was proud of his two boys (my older sister and I). I am so glad I have these recordings. My strongest memory of my father is his laugh - a loud, authentic burst of joy. He'd throw his head back, clap his hands, and you couldn't help but feel amazing right along with him. He had one of those magnetic personalities that drew everyone in, even strangers. People felt instantly safe and wanted to be liked by him. He had infectious charisma.

The ending of his story shattered me, yet in a sad way, it was precisely what he wanted. I'll never forget the quote that hung in my dad's office, there from as long as I can remember right up until the day he died. It was by Hunter S. Thompson and read: "Life should not be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well-preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside in a cloud of smoke, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, and loudly proclaiming 'Wow! What a Ride!'" And that's exactly what he did - he slid into the next chapter in a body that was totally worn out, knowing he had one hell of a ride.

It's impossible to fully describe or measure how much he will be missed; his impact on our lives is something we can deeply feel. I will remember my father, Randy Kanta, as the perfect and flawed man he was who loved with his whole heart, which he wore on his sleeve. Thank you for everything, daddy. I love you and I miss you.

There were no words to describe Randy. He was a great person. I enjoyed knowing him and being around him.
And he loved his work and also he loved his daughters very much. He he talked a lot about his daughters. He was so proud of them for the things they had done where they’ve gone in life and he was just an awesome man.

My last message to Randy:

Dear Randy,

Do you remember when I used to tease you that your DNA was wrapped around mine because it felt like you were half of me? You were “in” me. Now that you’re gone, part of me is gone, too. I wish we could've worked out marital issues but the friendship we developed afterward was incredibly beautiful and loving. Were you aware that we have known each other for 75% of our lives? I’m so glad we did.

You knew more about me than anyone, and I knew more about you. I could say, “Do you remember back in 1975 when Alice and I would walk across the dam waiting for you to come and pick us up in your Impala? We could hear you from a mile away!” And we’d laugh. An innumerable amount of memories like that. You were the only one who ever truly understood and could comfort me when old, disquieting memories would confront me. You always knew what to say and how to hold me. No one can fill that place.
Was I always there for you? I hope so.

You are the best person I’ve ever known. If I could be like anyone it would be you because you loved your family so much, you were so smart, so funny, so confident, so outgoing, such a leader, so business savvy, such an outdoorsman and adventurer. You were a warrior. You did it all with seemingly no effort. I didn’t think there was anything you couldn’t do, and I admired that, but you were also human, with flaws, and with the ability to hurt me and make me feel very sad. I’ll never understand that side of you, but I loved you anyway. We all have our demons. We got past that, our relationship changed, blossomed, and it brought us to where we are now, only love.

Randy, I will always remember the millions of hours that we loved each other, raised our beautiful daughters, and really, grew up together, from teens to senior citizens. I wish I could see you as an old man; that’s what I had envisioned, but it’s probably best you left when you did. I picture you transitioning… off on another adventure. Until we meet again…

I’ll always love you,

Nancy

I met Randy in the early 90's playing roller hockey. For me I met a person that I knew I could learn so much from. Soon we (he) opened a roller hockey rink at the Fresno fairgrounds. Not long after we had the rink he offered me a job in the carwash field (selling chemistry for blue coral). In 1998 we started CWS distributing selling car wash products. In 2004 randy and I acquired our first carwash in Hanford CA named Auto Island. We turned a failing wash around tripled the business selling it right before the recession. Then in 2010 we acquired the first Waterwheel Express Sanger CA (once again a failed carwash) and we made the wash profitable. I can't go into the countless adventures on motorcycles from doing road racing to long dirt bike riding trips in Baja CA. I'm so thankful to of had Randy in my life. Teaching me and allowing me to teach him. His two wonderful daughters Anne and Christine and his beautiful wife Nancy have been family to me. Love you bud!!!

Matt Bukilica

As I was going through my dad's things the other day, I came across his rock climbing and rafting log book from the 90's. In that book there was a climb that him and I did in 1993 when I was 12 yrs old on Tollhouse Rock. Most of the entry was pretty technical (I set up the top rope, Anne climbed here, etc.) The last sentence said that during the climb I "showed no fear or intimidation" and I thought wow, that's how my dad lived his whole life.

Whether it be one of his many (potentially dangerous!) activities, fighting cancer and covid, embarking on a new business venture, having that tough conversation, he never showed fear or intimidation, he just did it! What a wonderful role model, I could not have asked for anything more in a father.

Thank you all for visiting this page and for playing such a huge part in his life. Please share your memories, it means so much to us. Love to you all xoxo

I loved Randy Kanta. Randy was just the 2nd person I ever met in the car wash world, and he became my mentor, and most importantly, my friend. I can proudly say that Surf Thru, would not be the company it is today without Randy Kanta. He guided us through so many stressful car wash situations and always remained calm and kind. Randy was a car wash Legend.

If I was limited to a single word to describe my friend Randy, it would be KIND. He was kind beyond measure, and I miss him greatly.