HIGH PEAKS, CALM WATERS

Words by Mike Swanson

The higher you climb in the Adirondacks, the more honest the wind gets.

On the summit it comes straight at you with no filter, nothing to slow it down. Most mornings the clouds sit low in the valleys, and on clear days the lakes and ponds look like pieces of glass, catching whatever light a day in the northeast is willing to give.

This is where you will often find Sam Perkins, standing quiet on a mountaintop, looking out over valleys he has traced for years and scoping ridgelines for the next long day out. After standing on all 46 high peaks and more than 500 summits, Sam has started to understand what keeps drawing him back to these mountains.

For Sam, reaching the top only marks the horizon of the next adventure.

THE BOY WHO STAYED OUTSIDE

Sam grew up in Lake Placid, New York, where winters were long, the snow piled high, and being outside was simply part of everyday life.

Lake Placid winters set the stage for a life outside.

Some of his clearest early memories outdoors involve his uncle, a lifelong hunter and fisherman, and the Johnson Woolen Mills jacket he wore just about everywhere. It was less a piece of gear and more a part of who his uncle was. Sam also remembers his first real fishing trip with his dad, rod in hand and bundled up against the weather, happy just to be out there.

First family fishing trip. Early lessons in patience and long days outside.

Years later, when his uncle could no longer get out into the mountains, that same wool jacket was handed down to Sam. It carried all of that history with it. It was not just a warm layer. It was a link back to a generation that learned the woods without GPS, technical fabrics, or any such modern shortcuts.

LEARNING TO FIND BALANCE, THE HARD WAY

Before anyone knew Sam as the guy trying to stand on every peak in the Adirondacks, most people knew him for what he could do on a bike. In his younger years he spent countless hours on his trials bike, hopping on rocks, logs, and just about anything else he could find, then taking those skills into professional competitions.

Early days on the rocks. Trials taught Sam to read terrain one move at a time.

Bike trials is not about speed. It is about balance, control, and reading the obstacle right in front of you. You pick a line, commit to it, and trust your body and bike to follow through. When it does not work, you feel it. Every miss and hard landing hold a lesson for the next attempt.

From practice lines to competition courses. Precision, patience, and a mesmerizing use of friction.

After years of riding, he started to feel ready for something different. What stayed with him was not the bright lights or first place finishes. It was the feelings of focus and flow, one move at a time. When that chapter began to wind down, he turned that same focus back toward his home in the Adirondacks, and all the lessons he learned on his bike came with him as he pressed on into the mountains.

FORTY-SIX PEAKS, AND THEN SOME

In his early thirties, Sam gave himself a simple, long-range goal. Climb all 46 Adirondack High Peaks to become a “46er” by the age of 46. He figured he would chip away and finish in due time. No hurry.

Once he started, that idea went out the window. The pace picked up, peaks were bagged in quick succession, and between the ages of 33 and 35 he stood on every one of the 46 Adirondack Peaks. Then he went back and did them again in winter conditions. By the time he tagged his final peak, it was the 100th mountain he had stood on.

The hard-earned views that open the door to the what’s next.

From those high points he could see the places that the maps and trail guides didn’t cover. Between the named summits and marked trails were long runs of timber and quiet ridgelines with no signs and no people.

Where most folks might see the end of a checklist, Sam saw the start of something bigger. The bushwhacking began and the count rolled on to lesser known high points. Two hundred. Three hundred. Five hundred Adirondack peaks and counting. Even with all of that, Sam will tell you it still feels like he has only scratched the surface of the place he calls home.

HIGH PEAKS, CALM WATERS

After years of looking down on ponds and lakes from above, Sam felt the pull to get to know them up close. The canoe chapter started quietly and then took over, much like the peaks had before.

He picked up a lightweight canoe and the counting took off again. He has now paddled over 125 different bodies of water across the Adirondacks. Some days he can slide in not far from the road. On others, he hikes the canoe as far as eight miles before it ever touches the water.

Mornings that start in the dark and open with early light and fog. One of many remote ponds that keep drawing Sam back.

Most of the time he is chasing brook trout on remote ponds, places where the shoreline runs wild and the only sounds are wind, water, and the occasional fish rise. He is not just an angler out there. These days on the water pull together everything he loves: hiking, camping, paddling and fishing.

When he is not deep in the woods or out on the water, Sam works as a groundskeeper for the local school district, which keeps him outside while the mountains wait for his next big day.

GENERATIONS OF WOOL

Through all of these chapters, wool has been the common thread for Sam. That old Johnson Woolen Mills jacket his uncle lived in never had much patience for the closet. When his uncle passed it down, it felt less like a gift and more like a charge: take care of this, keep it out there where it belongs.

Sam on a remote brook trout pond in the 1970s Johnson Woolen Mills jacket he inherited from his uncle.

Sam grew up knowing his family and all the old guides depended on wool, long before synthetics and high-tech fabrics took over. There was something honest about that. No bells and whistles. Just the warmth and durability you needed to stay out there. His dad bought him his first Johnson Woolen Mills jacket at a young age, and later in life he started treating himself to a new piece each year.

WHAT IT MEANS TO ENDURE

Johnson Woolen Mills has produced enduring wool apparel in Vermont since 1842, outfitting hunters, farmers, guides, and outdoorsmen for generations.

Ask Sam what “enduring” means to him and he will not give you anything cliché. He will talk about the days he completely underestimated. About trips that ended with deep bruises, cracked ribs, heat exhaustion, or a scratched cornea and still feel worth it for what they taught him.

He will also talk about the other side of that coin. Long days where he does not see a single other person. Silence and solace. Wind through the pines. Water under the canoe. The click of the reel. The anticipation of the take.

Sam believes there is never a truly bad day in the woods. Some days just have more to teach than others.

 “Every day out there teaches you something if you are willing to listen.”

For more of Sam’s photos and reflections, follow @thesamperkins

Cheers to warm wool and getting out there!