Every kid needs an old timer to kick around with It’s the way of the woods, especially when it comes to outdoor pursuits. Hands-on mentorship is as important as the availability of wild lands, and the tools necessary to enjoy them.

I’ve been very fortunate in this regard, since I was able to connect with an outstanding mentor at an early age. His name was Ernie Coons, and the occasion of our first meeting remains etched in my mind. It occurred in the early 1960s, while I was traveling with my father, who was an elementary school principal at the time.

I was about seven years old when we took a trip to Twin Valleys, an outdoor education center owned by Plattsburgh State University. Located near Lewis, the facility has been used to host youth camps for local kids during the summer season, and also functions as an off-campus learning lab when college is in session.

It turned out to be a day that altered the course of my life. It was also the first time I paddled a canoe. By Adirondack standards, I was a late bloomer. However, I’ve been making up for the lost time ever since.

At the time, outdoor education was still in its infancy in the United States, and the practice was poorly defined. It was often confused with outdoor recreation, which is certainly a compoment of the process, but not always.

In the 1960s and ’70s, outdoor educators were working to expand the boundaries of the educational process by relating subjects such as math, history, music and even physical education to the outdoors. Although outdoor education has experienced some dramatic changes over the years, it remains close to its original roots. It has certainly been enhanced by the growing field of environmental science, and awareness.

In the North Country, there was one particular educator who truly changed the face of outdoor education as we know it. His name is Ernie Coons, and he was responsible for putting Plattsburgh State University on the cutting edge of the Outdoor Ed movement. Fortunately, he was also a good friend of my father.

As I recall, it wasn’t the smoothest introduction. While he was busy talking with my father, I was down at the pond doing what little boys will do, when they’re left alone and bored. I was bopping frogs with a big stick, and I found that I was actually pretty good at it.

In short order, I had three or four big bullfrogs laid out on the shore. It was a pretty good take for a 7-year-old kid, and I was still admiring the carnage when a big, square-jawed, barrel chested, crew-cut wearing man asked me in a booming voice, “What do you think you are you doing?”

He was huge and scary, and I simply didn’t have an answer. So I did what so many scared boys would do – I ran and hid behind my father, while explaining through my tears, “That big fat guy just yelled at me.”

Unfortunately, the ploy didn’t work so well. My father instructed me to go over and answer the big guy’s questions. To my surprise, he wasn’t really a mean, fat guy. In fact he was kind of funny, a bit oversized, and very interesting. He explained that if I caught something like a fish or a frog, I had a choice to either eat it or let it go.

Although I was young, I kind of sensed where the conversation was going, and I never wanted to let a frog go so badly. If I knew how to perform mouth-to-mouth at the time, I would have locked lips with those dead frogs immediately. But I was stuck between the Big Guy and my Dad, with no available means of escape.

In a friendly manner, the Big Guy showed me how to remove and clean the frog legs, which was a squeamishly enlightening experience for a 7-year-old. Then, we worked together to kindle a fire, and things were really going well. I was just about ready to run off for a marshmallow stick when he produced a frypan, and placed the frog legs in it. I watched as the legs sizzled in the pan over the open fire, and there was simply no place to run. As King of the Frog Boppers, I had earned the right to eat up, but I thought I would choke on the first bite. However, it was actually pretty good stuff. In fact, I was actually upset when I had to share some of it with the others. After that experience, I understood why game must be respected, valued and utilized, whether it’s a frog, crayfish, trout or a squirrel. Outdoor education is very much a hands-on process.

A decade later, I was offered a summer job as a junior counselor at Twin Valleys, and I went to work for the Big Guy. I learned the value of hard work and the importance of hard play. It is where I first developed many of the outdoor recreational skills that I use daily as a recreation professional.

But the lessons didn’t end that day. They actually continued when I met up with the Big Guy a few years later, during my freshman year of college. I was a first semester, elementary education major, and I had registered for a course titled Outdoor Education for the Elementary School Teacher. I signed up for the course because I thought it would be a cake-walk. In my mind, the class was the equivalent of Underwater Basket Weaving 101. I figured I knew enough about Outdoor Ed to skate through the course with ease. Little did I know.

On the first day of class, I looked around the room and it appeared most of the students were much older than expected. I still had a silly grin on my face when the Big Guy from Twin Valleys walked into the room. Almost immediately the tables turned, and I shifted uneasily in my chair.

“What are you doing here?” he bellowed in his booming voice. “This is a graduate level class.”

I felt my face flush with embarassment, and I stammered while attempting to come up with an appropriate answer. But before I could get a word out, he bellowed again, “You can only take this class with permission of the instructor,” he paused, and then continued “Which you now have.”

Then, to my horror, he turned to the class and recounted the tale of my “Troubles at Twin Valleys” back in my younger days. After all the joking, the stories and my nearly complete humiliation, he walked over and set the course syllabus for the on my desk. “You’ll need this,” he explained while tapping the folder for emphasis. “Since you’ll be teaching this class!” Then he added, “I’ll expect your lesson plan before the end of the day.”

During my years at Plattsburgh, we worked together and collaborated on numerous projects and programs, for groups ranging from nursery schoolers to senior citizens, Air Force personnel, nurses, secretaries and sports teams.

Together we revamped the college’s Outing Club, and re-outfitted the entire outdoor equipment rental room. In the process, I learned more about life in general, and my own capabilities in particular than I learned about outdoor education. He also served on the Thesis Committee for my Masters Program, where he motivated me with the toe of his boot to insure the work was completed in a timely manner.

Dr. Coons was also responsible for the development of the interpreter programs that are currently offered at NYSDEC campgrounds all across the state. He spent many summers camping at Fish Creek Campground while coordinating the programs, which have been responsible for reducing vandalism, arguments, and incidents while increasing camper satisfaction.

My first experience with the summer programs occurred during a wicked heat wave many years ago. I was presenting a slide show on winter camping at the outdoor ampitheatre at Fish Creek Park. The event was packed, with more than 200 campers in attendance. While winter scenes flashed across the screen, Ernie opened a couple of coolers full of crushed ice, and started tossing snowballs into the audience. It was a scene that will never be be duplicated. He was also a master storyteller with a dynamic delivery. The memory of his story of Joseph Terrie, the Ghost of Twin Valleys still brings shivers down my spine.

A few weeks ago, Ernie called to invite me to visit his new home. Unfortunately, I was already in the heat of the summer season crunch, with back to back trips scheduled on end. However, I juggled things around and made time for a trip about two weeks ago.

I was pleased to find he was still very much in charge of things, settled in a new house that he had designed for his retirement years. Although he appeared a bit frail, it was evident he was still in complete command of the situation. We enjoyed a long talk and had a lot of laughs before we parted with plans to visit again soon.

However, when his lovely wife called on Wednesday morning, I didn’t want to answer the phone. I sensed what was to come, and he knew that too. That’s why he invited me to visit, just a week ago. I expect he’s now tossing snowballs at the angels.

He is survived by Helene, his wife of 50 years, his son Mark and family. There will be no services or calling hours. He leaves behind the legacy of an outdoor recreation professional who changed the face of the industry by bringing the classroom into the woods.