Some people call him Gary, I call him Dad.

My second summer working with La Vida, I had the opportunity to camp with my group at Raquette Falls and work my second service project with Gary, digging pit privies. I had worked with Gary a previous summer on trail work with one of my patrols, and so this summer I amped Gary up – I knew they would love him. They had no idea what was coming, all they knew about was a lean-to and the end of a long portage. Halfway through the portage, Gary popped his head in under a canoe two girls were carrying.

“You’re the one Electa told us about!” they excitedly claimed.

“Is that what she’s going by nowadays? Geez, that doesn’t even sound like a real name” he retorted.

Confused, my participants kept going. When we all got into camp, they were asking,

“Wait, is Electa your real name?” Unbeknownst to me, Gary had already started to confuse them. Like he always says, anybody will believe a guy in uniform. He snickered and looked at me – it was all I could do to just shrug and give the typical Sherpa answer: “I don’t know!” Highly suspicious of me, my group continued to set up camp and one of our participants whipped out the travel guitar we had brought: it was time to serenade Gary. We sang him a few songs (some pretty original). When we told the group they would be doing a service project with him the next day, they couldn’t wait to hang out with “Mister Cool Gary Sir”.

Morning came and our group was excited, deeply motivated, and not fully understanding the mosquito bites they would face as they dug through the sand and dirt. They also didn’t fully understand how much they would love Gary – he wasn’t just an unsuspecting caretaker. Throughout the day he bonded with them, laughing and joking, whipping out a watermelon at lunch (that got everybody’s spirit’s up!), and keeping up the ruse that my name wasn’t really Electa. As it came into the night, everyone couldn’t stop talking about Gary and how welcoming he was, and as we all began to sing around the fire, there he appeared again, with popcorn! What a treat!

“Gary – will you share your life story with us? Will you join us in worship?” He was now a part of the group, they wanted him to be involved with everything. Gary turned to me,

“To be honest, I’m pretty beat”.

“Go to bed!” I said, “They’re content”

“Yeah,” he replied, “But I was working my way to convince them in my life story that you were my daughter”

That moment was a wave of honor and love that I never expected to find in the woods of New York. Gary stood there, a twinkle in his eye as he watched popcorn being popped over the fire and laughing with me about the joke he was planning to play. This was when I began to understand: to Gary, La Vida wasn’t just a familiar face passing through or some extra hands to do work. La Vida was family. Times with Gary and La Vida were full of joy and deep care expressed in service, song, and stifled laughter. It was an honor be “adopted” into the Valentine family – it wasn’t just a joke to pull the wool over another group’s eyes. To Gary, it was an invitation.

My second summer at La Vida was Gary’s last summer working at Raquette Falls. In my three trips to see him, with countless blueberries picked and popcorn kernels popped and strokes paddled, Gary not only extended hospitality, he extended the welcome of family. He made people feel at home for a night, even as far as they were outside of their comfort zones, even as tired as the sherpas were getting. A group of sherpas and I went up to visit Gary for his last weekend at the Falls, and even then, he invited us to a feast – a feast that showed his love for La Vida and for people escaped the normal bounds of hospitality and generosity. It expressed itself in a love tied together that families share. I guess all I have to say is, thanks Dad.

It’s hard to imagine the Raquette River without Gary Valentine as part of the experience. La Vida groups always looked forward to visiting him. Grinning ear to ear, Gary would be waiting to greet us with jokes and pranks at the ready. He would love to spoil groups by offering popcorn around the fire, and (if you were lucky) a dry, screened in porch to relax and enjoy your meals – something that seems insignificant until you’ve spent a week outdoors. Though both great treats, the popcorn and the porch weren’t what left an impact on those he came across.

Gary would greet each traveler with an open heart, a desire to bring a smile to their face, and a willingness to share life lessons learned on the river. His story always left a strong, resonating impression on each group that passed. A courageous tale of working a job he didn’t love to successfully build his out his dream home in Western New York. Unexpectedly, he learned about the caretaker position at Raquette Falls, decided to quit his job, and sell his once dream home to pursue a different life. One focused on what is truly important to him: the outdoors, his family and unconditionally loving those around him. This is evident in every interaction you have with him. Gary, with his equally as loving wife Ruth, are living examples that life doesn’t need to be extravagant or fast paced in order for it to be filled to the brim with love.

Ruth, Gary, KB and Maya during Gary’s last weekend at the Falls.

Gary has an amazing heart to serve in any capacity he can. I remember coming over the Raquette falls with a broken canoe on my back and having no worries at all. I knew Gary would be there and pull out some handy-man tricks and fix the seat while smiling the whole time. As my groups would approach the end of the falls, they had no idea who Gary was, but by the end of the night, every student reveled in the joy Gary brought with every joke, teasing moment and of course, the popcorn.

“Brother from another mother” is a phrase Gary and I say, and it speaks very true in many respects. I love the moments I have been able to spend with him. My first time at the Raquette falls was on my birthday and guess what Gary decided to do? He carried in some ice cream and cooked brownies in his tiny little oven. Somehow he had found out my favorite dessert and made it for me and my group– I shed a tear. Gary will be deeply missed at the falls and by all La Vida trips that have experienced his gift of hospitality and generosity. He is truly the man of the falls.

Any incoming La Vida staff member meets the rest of their staff in the winter training, any remaining employees at the pre-summer training, and the most important person of their summer shortly-thereafter, if they’re lucky. The day I met the man, the myth, the legend himself Gary Valentine, I remember not expecting, yet not being surprised, by his red face and average stature. I guess I had pictured only a giant of a man being large enough to hold all the preconceived ideas and collected campfire stories I had of him. Someone Rich Obenschain-sized and equal in mythical status. Technically real and yet, sometimes, even when they’re right in front of you, you still wonder. Maybe they were cousins for all I knew! Either way, it didn’t take long for either of these men to become important figures in my life.

Gary Valentine is a man behind a front. And as someone with a loud mouth and smart-aleck attitude herself, I saw through his sham immediately and loved him for it.

“Those gluten-free people, we shouldn’t even let them be in the woods anyway!” he claimed one afternoon after finding out that I didn’t include gluten in my diet.

“Well who’s gonna make me?!” I shot back at him, puffing my chest, quite obviously picking a fight that I knew he was up for.

Our shenanigans and bickering would go on and on until we were practically yelling at each other to prove a ridiculous point, or until we both dropped it completely and busted up laughing. His gruff exterior did nothing to cover the fact that he still spoiled every La Vida group and sherpa-pairing that came through his outpost. He cared and he couldn’t hide it. But he could deny it and always did to keep up his front. Together, we would listen to records, discuss canoe-building techniques, plan my next visit, and hang out while drinking beer like old friends (not during my La Vida employment). Gary treated every person like a human with dignity unless they were being an idiot, of course, in which case he promptly told them so. Yet he always loved the La Vida staff and participants more than they could’ve deserved. The impact he made on their experiences, on individuals like me, and on the program as a whole will not be forgotten, and the Adirondacks will never be the same without him holding down the outpost. I’m grateful for all that he did at that place and look forward to the next time I get to catch up with my old friend.

Gary and Dani patrolling the Falls.

Dani and Gary at the Outpost.