Almanack Contributor Richard Monroe

Richard Monroe

Lifelong NYS resident. Raised in Saranac Lake. Cornell graduate(ROTC). Army veteran, Airborne/Ranger qualified, 10th Mtn Div, stints in Honduras and with JTF VI. 3rd degree Black Belt; 3x cancer survivor; published writer with several featured stories in Adirondack Life Magazine. Residing in Watertown NY with wife Robin & our 3 adult children. Loving Life. Living in the Day I am in.


Wednesday, March 31, 2021

Camp improv: Lemonade Bass

The Monroe familyFor our family, like most firmly rooted within The Blue Line, the equation is simple:

Summer + Camping x Kids = FISHING!

When my son RJ was 4, he was out fishing one morning at Bull Rush Bay with his “Gramps”.

Gramps overheard RJ humming to himself, singing a little tune while they fished.  When they returned to camp, Gramps wrote RJ’s lyrics down.  They went like this:

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Saturday, March 27, 2021

Wild Turkey Soup: A camp favorite

wild turkey soup

A Camp Chef Recipe Favorite

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 Wild Turkey: The Story

   My Dad and I never hunted wild turkeys while I was growing up. Turkey populations were nearly nonexistent in the 1970’s Adirondack region.  My father and I had no turkey hunting season. Thus, for many years my soup pot was empty. My high peaks camp world had not yet discovered the wonders of Wild Turkey Soup.

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Saturday, March 20, 2021

Spring’s promise

 

spring melt

Winter’s Winds Wild

Ice Trickles Flow

Melting Deep Drifted

Sunlight Bright On White Snow

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Thursday, March 18, 2021

Olympic Outlaws: Memories from ’80

1980 olympicsI first met Chris in the spring of 1978.  We were both freshman milers on the Saranac Lake track team.  I ran track because I got cut from the baseball team.  Chris ran track because girls ran track too.  His reason quickly became mine.  We were soon best friends, and have been so since.

By fall 1979 Chris and I were juniors.  We played Redskins football in the fall.  I still could not make the baseball team, so in the spring, we both still ran track too.  In between, we spent our days sharing yet another mutual interest- hunting rabbits.

Once football season ended and the snow settled in, after school we spent afternoons and weekends chasing snowshoe rabbits through thick conifers swamps.  Chris had an old Mossberg.  I had my Dad’s vintage Ithaca, both pumps.  Chris had an Airedale named Murphy that he claimed was a rabbit dog, but I had my doubts.

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