Bushwhack Jack's Tracts

Anyone who knows me well knows I’m competitive. Board games, cards, checkers, it doesn’t matter. I believe if you don’t play to win, then why play at all. It’s something in my genes. How competitive am I? It depends, but there was the time my best friend from college, Scott Smith and I went out into his yard to play catch with a frisbee. We took turns. One of us stood between two trees as goalie while the other tried to throw the frisbee past him. We were outside for nea

About a decade ago I received a package from a student who I hadn’t heard from in over thirty years. Our paths first crossed early in 1981 when Terry, as a Saranac Lake High School senior, reached out to me about attending our field-based Summer Practicum. (Terry’s not his real name. When I contacted him about writing this story, he was amenable to the idea but asked that I not use his name. He’s not the type to draw attention to himself.) The course was demanding both p

I feel sorry for those that don’t enjoy reading for they’re missing out on humanity's greatest invention…the book. The joy of reading is something my mother instilled in me at an early age. I remember going to the Locust Valley Public Library before I could read. My mother would pick out books for me, and we’d bring them home, where she’d read them to me and I would study the pictures. Dr. Suess was a favorite. When I was twelve my family moved to the Finger Lakes and I

I was a decent high school athlete. But that was all…decent. I never attempted to play an organized sport until eighth grade, when I went out for junior high basketball. I didn’t make the team. Instead, I became a wrestler, and along with football had, you guessed it, a decent high school career. My Dad during his hockey years My dad, on the other hand, was an outstanding hockey player. Ice skating was a big part of his family's life. His sister was a national calib

As ice starts to form on the lake, the days get shorter, and the ski season is upon us, I’m reminded of the winter of 1978-79. Lake Placid was abuzz with preparations for the 1980 Winter Olympics and I was still working on establishing a career in the outdoors. I‘d spent two seasons leading adjudicated youth on wilderness adventures, a couple of winters on the ski patrol at the Lake Placid Club’s Mount Whitney, a winter working at Joe Pete Wilson’s ski shop, and started