Tag: High Peaks

Never captured. Still believed to be at large. Outstanding warrants remain in two counties, both Essex & Franklin. Still sought by police. Last seen in and around the village of Saranac Lake. Goes by the Alias “Sharpshooter”. This Polariod image is his only know photograph. If spotted, contact authorities...

      He sat perched on a flat, sloping, moss-covered boulder at the edge of a cliff, overwatching the hardwood forest below him. The hunter scanned predawn silence through late October’s mid-fall morning mist.      The year was 1981, more than a decade before cell phones. A time when hunters...

I’ve been selected! I was just notified. My story “Olympic Outlaws” has been selected by Harmonny Performing Arts Community to be read aloud at their upcoming event at The Sackets Harbor Ballroom on November 16, 2022! As a cancer survivor with no tongue, this is especially meaningful to me....

When the Laws of Man and Nature Collide in the Mountains      The year was 1983. July, to be exact, as a young man’s lone figure eased into an overgrown Adirondack trailhead parking lot and turned off his truck’s engine. He did a quick personal pat down; keys, pocket-knife,...

The Mysterious Case of the Vanishing Duck      The day dawned with a twist.  A hunter’s life lesson hard learned as my Zen Boat canoe silently sliced morning mist.      I jumped a pair of wood ducks along the shore to my left as my hand painted Zen Boat...

OR “THE GREAT RAT CAPER OF 1981”      It was fall, 1980.  My friends and I had somehow managed to survive our way to senior year at Saranac Lake High School.      I wasn’t a great student in high school.  I never really studied or applied myself.  I copied...

A Middle Saranac Lake lean-to look-back collection of memories, artifacts, legends and photos.      My family first visited Middle Saranac Lake’s site 63 Bull Rush Bay in 1972.   The photo above depicts the lean-to that was there by that time. It quickly became the cedar log summer home...

Beneath forgotten trestle’s flow Rainfall bounty, melted snow Where heron, bass, and beaver go I can hear  The river calling Misted memory’s mountain home Rocky rapid’s rippled foam Long lost laughter skipping stones I can hear The river calling We swam, we fished Wind’s whispered wish Wild water’s kiss...

The original version of this story 1st appeared in the June 17, 2021 on-line edition of the Adirondack Almanack      I had an interesting conversation with my brother a while back in camp. It began innocently enough, with an observation he made about the difficulties the Saranac Lake Elks...

Author’s Note: The snowshoes pictured here are my dad’s vintage pair. He made them in Ranger School during his time at Wanakena. He graduated from Ranger School in 1961, two years before I was born. They are still sturdy, solid and strong. I have taken great care to maintain...