A wonderful member of our community passed away recently, and while many knew Michael Wilson as a historian, professor and passionate protector of the Adirondacks, I’d like to share who he was to me — a mentor, a guide and the person who changed the trajectory of my life.

Michael lived in Saranac Lake for nearly 30 years, quietly shaping the region through his teaching, writing and deep commitment to conservation and education. He was not someone who sought the spotlight — he often flew under the radar — but the depth of his impact on individuals and institutions alike is difficult to overstate. His legacy is also deeply personal. I offer this reflection not only as a tribute to a remarkable life but as a way to honor the profound, life-shaping impact Michael had on me and on so many others who were fortunate enough to cross his path.

I first met Michael Wilson in a hotel room in Boston in 2001 at the New England Theater Conference. I had attended this annual casting call for regional theater productions, hoping to secure my first professional acting job. After meeting with several traditional theater directors and casting agents from New York City and Boston, Michael approached me with a very different offer: to come work at a camp in the middle of the wilderness, portraying an Irish immigrant for visitors and performing a one-act play about the history of Great Camp Sagamore in Raquette Lake, New York.

It sounded both ridiculous and terrifying.

At the time, our backgrounds couldn’t have been more different. I grew up in metro New Jersey. I’d never been hiking, paddling or camping. My only regular encounter with nature was family vacations to the Jersey Shore. I had never even heard of the Adirondacks.

But as fate would have it, when every other opportunity fell through, I found myself deep in the woods, bumping down a four-mile dirt road to Sagamore, surrounded by black flies and unfamiliar terrain. What I found there changed my life.

Once the summer retreat of the Alfred G. Vanderbilt family, Sagamore is now a National Historic Landmark and nonprofit educational institute nestled within the Adirondack Park. It was there, under Michael’s guidance, that I began to understand and appreciate the wilderness around me — hiking, canoeing, learning the land and the stories it held. Michael had a way of helping people see not just the beauty of the place, but the meaning embedded in it. He opened a world to me I had never known, and in doing so, reshaped my values.

Still, I wasn’t ready. I returned to the city, took a job in pharmaceutical sales, and tried to follow the path I had always assumed was expected of me. But something inside me had shifted, and the dissonance between the life I was living and the life I was meant to live became unbearable. I called Michael.

He didn’t hesitate. He encouraged me to return to Sagamore. Despite my lack of experience in environmental education, he believed in me — so much so that he created a position for me. I arrived early that season, eager to learn, and spent many nights on Michael’s porch at Camp Uncas, listening to stories of his own adventures: whitewater guiding on Oregon’s Snake River, close calls with grizzlies in Alaska, and his lifelong work protecting wild places. These weren’t just campfire tales. They were invitations to see the world differently, to connect with purpose, and to act with intention.

Michael didn’t just bring me to the Adirondacks — he gave me the tools and the values to fall in love with the place, to understand it and to commit myself to giving back to it. That summer was not only a homecoming — it was the beginning of my life’s work.

When I struggled to get into the graduate program at SUNY ESF, Michael wrote a nine-page recommendation letter. He called the program director personally, advocating for me in a way no one else ever had. When I got my first job in the Adirondacks, he offered me a place to live — for free — so I could get my feet under me. He introduced me to Saranac Lake, a community that felt like home from the moment I arrived.

Michael believed that history was not something we memorize — it’s something we interrogate, connect with and learn from. At Sagamore, he encouraged guests and interns alike to engage with the full complexity of Adirondack history. He taught us how to be comfortable with being uncomfortable, to listen, to question and to find our own place in the story.

What set Michael apart was not just his intellect or experience, it was his boundless generosity, his belief in others and his commitment to shaping lives for the better. He gave his time, his home and his heart to the people he believed in. I am just one of many whose life was transformed by his mentorship. When I consider the impact he had on me — the work I’ve done because of him, the values I hold because of him — I can only imagine the ripple effect his life has had on the world.

The time I spent with Michael, and the community he invited me into, changed my sense of self and my relationship with the world. He inspired me to change careers, reimagine my goals and root myself in work that gives me meaning. His legacy is forever woven into the person I’ve become, into the moments when I pause in gratitude for this place he introduced me to, and into the people I now try to mentor and inspire in the same way.

Michael Wilson passed away peacefully on Feb. 26 at the age of 79. He was a scholar, a teacher, a whitewater guide, a historic interpreter and a tireless environmental steward — but to me, he will always be the person who saw something in me before I saw it in myself. His memory lives on in the landscapes he loved, the institutions he helped build, and the countless lives — like mine — that he transformed.

May we continue to honor his legacy by protecting the places he cherished, carrying forward the values he taught and nurturing the potential he always believed could change the world.

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Rob Carr lives in Saranac Lake