Oliver Reil paddles through whitewater on the Raquette River with fellow Expeditionary Studies student Jake Sherman, left, in May 2021. (Provided photo — Steve Maynard)

Though I did not grow up in the Adirondacks, I generally tell people as much. Really, I grew up just southwest of Albany, in a small, less-than-industrious suburban sprawl called Delmar.

To me, that place was never the home that I held close to my heart, nor was it where I preferred to spend my time. The mountains, and all they offered, called me always. For several generations, my family has called those same mountains home. Now, finally, so do I.

My family hails from the far western Adirondacks on the edge of St. Lawrence County. The surrounding wildernesses are home to some of my fondest memories. I grew up hunting and fishing under the tutelage of my grandfather, with whom I am deeply connected. We hunted near Delmar, too, but the trips up north were what I dreamed about at night. Our preferred tract was the Cranberry Lake Wild Forest; 25,671 acres of big woods that my family has been hunting for decades.

I moved to Saranac Lake on Nov. 1. I came here with no job and only half a plan to get one. It was the first time since I was 14 that I was not gainfully employed. Despite the risk, I took the opportunity to move to town. I had a feeling it would be better for me than where I’d been. So far, I’ve been right.

I enrolled at SUNY Plattsburgh in 2018 as an Expeditionary Studies student. In this program I learned the fundamentals of planning, leading and executing small and large scale expeditions in a variety of climates using different mediums. We climbed rock and ice, backcountry skied, backpacked, sea kayaked and canoed. We spent many days afield, honing our skills and grinning ear-to-ear as we thought of our peers sitting in a lecture hall somewhere.

Oliver Reil poses with a smallmouth bass in front of his grandfather on the Oswegatchie River in September 2023. (Provided photo — Zoe Isdell)

Though EXP was exciting, my college career was anything but. I had a hard time in school, due almost entirely to my life outside of it. Tragedy and loss defined my first year and, looking back now, set a tone for the years to come. Surprisingly, a campus renowned statewide for its pedigree as a party school is not a good place for a grieving young man. Frankly, I lost myself that year. But as my sophomore year came around, I managed to find what I had lost, and actually got off to a fairly great start. Of course, everything would change with the pandemic, but I was as yet blissfully unaware.

In EXP, sophomore year is an exciting time. We as students were to each complete our first self-planned and executed expedition. Most kids opted for domestic trips, usually with teams of three or four, saving travels abroad for their Senior Expedition. I, however, thinking far too much of my capabilities, chose to jump head-first into Africa.

I landed in Morocco on March 11, 2020. I was 19, and I was alone. I was to spend 13 days there, traveling through the northern half of the country to various cities, villages and mountain ranges. On paper, everything was together. I had Bond-esque dreams of drinking coffee in Tangier’s medina, walking the streets of Fez and summiting peaks in the Rif Mountains over Chefchaouen. I even did some of those things. What I really got, though, was a humbling.

I was forced to flee Morocco after just five days. The pandemic raging, countries around the world were closing their borders. Travelers were getting trapped left and right, and I did not want to be one of them. I dodged canceled flights, late buses and taxi scammers to get home. I made it to Miami within 12 hours of Morocco closing its borders. By the time I landed, I had barely eaten or slept for 36 hours.

Though a bit tumultuous, my time in Morocco was transformative. Through great stress and many challenges, I learned more about myself in five days there than I had in my previous 19 years.

Oliver Reil ice climbs above Chapel Pond near Keene Valley during an Expeditionary Studies class in 2010. (Provided photo)

I came back with the kind of perspective people chase their whole lives. For that, I am still grateful.

I carried this new perspective with me into my junior year. EXP was losing its luster, and I found myself searching for more. That fall, I took an introductory journalism class to fulfill an elective requirement. Everything changed after that.

In journalism I found a way to combine writing, a great love of mine, and service, a core value. I switched to journalism full-time that spring, with the hope of one day making an investigative team like Spotlight of the Boston Globe, personal heroes of mine.

After graduation, the struggle of getting myself through school caused me to initially recoil away from journalism. After all, as Lawrence Kasdan and Hank Moody said, writing is just like having homework for the rest of your life. It took a year of post-graduation restaurant work to want that again.

Perhaps the opportunity to move here was waiting for me to be ready, or perhaps I just needed to want more from life. Either way, the stars aligned. One month after moving to Saranac Lake, on my last $80 and feeling the pressure, I got a meeting at the Adirondack Daily Enterprise office in Saranac Lake. I was hired two days later as a part-time Tupper Lake reporter, and it’s from those offices that I greet you now. One week later, I became a full-time staff writer, helping Editor/Publisher Andy Flynn fill the Lake Placid News with more exclusive content. I now balance my writing between Tupper Lake and Lake Placid. I look forward to serving the Tri-Lakes, and can’t wait to file Saranac Lake on my next tax return.

Oliver Reil grins after swimming his way through a section of the Narrows in Zion National Park in August 2018. (Provided photo — Zoe Isdell)

Looking back on the road into the Rif Mountains above Chefchaouen, Morocco, March 13, 2020. (Provided photo — Oliver Reil)