Summer School: How to Make Tent?

Writers at work. Jackson Lake sunset Grand Teton National Park Courtesy & Copyright Eric Newell, Photographer
Writers at work.
Jackson Lake sunset
Grand Teton National Park
Courtesy & Copyright Eric Newell, Photographer
Years ago, when I taught at Mount Logan Middle School in northern Utah, we ran two-week outdoor-based summer school programs. The model, “Bringing Literature to Life,” was the mastermind of two now-retired teachers, Dave Anderson and Bryce Passey.

Students on the move. High Creek Mount Naomi Wilderness Courtesy & Copyright Eric Newell, Photographer
Students on the move.
High Creek
Mount Naomi Wilderness
Courtesy & Copyright Eric Newell, Photographer

On the Trail Mount Naomi Wilderness Courtesy & Copyright Eric Newell, Photographer On the Trail
Mount Naomi Wilderness
Courtesy & Copyright Eric Newell, Photographer

High Creek Trail Mount Naomi Wilderness Courtesy & Copyright Eric Newell, Photographer High Creek Trail
Mount Naomi Wilderness
Courtesy & Copyright Eric Newell, Photographer

High Creek Trail Mount Naomi Wilderness Courtesy & Copyright Eric Newell, Photographer High Creek Trail
Mount Naomi Wilderness
Courtesy & Copyright Eric Newell, Photographer

A student reads a book during a trail break Mount Naomi Wilderness Courtesy & Copyright Eric Newell, Photographer A student reads a book during a trail break
Mount Naomi Wilderness
Courtesy & Copyright Eric Newell, Photographer

Writing on the trail Courtesy & Copyright Eric Newell, Photographer Writing on the trail
Courtesy & Copyright Eric Newell, Photographer

How to Make Tent Courtesy & Copyright Eric Newell, Photographer How to Make Tent
Courtesy & Copyright Eric Newell, Photographer

High Creek Lake Mount Naomi Wilderness Courtesy & Copyright Eric Newell, Photographer High Creek Lake
Mount Naomi Wilderness
Courtesy & Copyright Eric Newell, Photographer

Crossing the High Creek Mount Naomi Wilderness Courtesy & Copyright Eric Newell, Photographer Crossing the High Creek
Mount Naomi Wilderness
Courtesy & Copyright Eric Newell, Photographer

Sunset Moonrise Grand Teton National Park Courtesy & Copyright Eric Newell, Photographer Sunset Moonrise
Grand Teton National Park
Courtesy & Copyright Eric Newell, Photographer

Wes, the 6th grader who reshaped what I believed was possible Courtesy & Copyright Eric Newell, Photographer Wes, the 6th grader who reshaped
what I believed was possible
Courtesy & Copyright Eric Newell, Photographer

Teachers offered a variety of summer courses around this theme—all were funded by grants. Each session was based on a book. The idea was to bring the book to life. For example, a couple of technology teachers read October Sky with students and built and launched rockets on the soccer field. PE teachers offered a course called Extreme Sports. They read Maniac Magee and played all the sports Maniac plays in the book. Other courses, like “Say it with Puppets,” were offered based on teachers’ expertise and interests.

These summer school programs were offered to incoming sixth graders as a way to build their confidence, boost their reading skills, familiarize them with the middle school, foster friendships with peers, and build trust with teachers. Learning was fun and engaging and over the years, thousands of students fears and anxiety of transitioning to the middle school were dissolved.

Dave, Bryce, John Gregory, and I offered a course called “River Rats.” The first week students learned to canoe, hike, and spent two days backpacking up High Creek to Naomi Peak. This is a brutally hard trail for first time eleven and twelve-year-old backpackers, but we had a system. We’d walk until they were tired. Then we’d sit down in the shade, pass out snacks, and read a chapter or two of a book. When kids began to fidget, we’d shoulder our packs and hike again. We repeated the pattern for about eight hours until we arrived at our campsite. By the end of the day, kids didn’t realize how far they had traveled, they just knew they were tired. We also taught writing throughout the session—a favorite aspect of the curriculum for me.

The second week of “River Rats,” we camped in Grand Teton National Park for three days, paddling canoes on String Lake, hiking to Taggart Lake, and rafting mild sections of the Snake River. Weaving in our literacy theme all the while.

We ran two to four sessions of River Rats each summer for thirteen consecutive years. Memories abound of students who had major breakthroughs, of wildlife encounters, of learning moments, of rocks stashed in packs, and connections with people and the land.

A half dozen Cambodian refugees signed up for River Rats one summer. They spoke hardly a word of English and didn’t have any idea what they had actually signed up for. But they showed up every day and smiled and laughed and learned and made friends. I still remember their names and their faces. One, who I encountered years later, was completing her degree to become a teacher.

Another summer, three Chinese boys (whose parents were teaching Engineering courses at USU for a year), stood around a tangled mess of tent poles and tent parts in a high mountain meadow. Perplexed, one of them said to me, “How to…..make tent?” All of us burst out in laughter and I helped them “make” their tent in the yellow-orange alpenglow as a Cache Valley summer sunset lit up the sky.

We have stories of accommodating kids in wheelchairs, of kids building friendships across cultural barriers of all kinds. There were kids in tears who wanted to give up, kids who were terrified of water, kids who had never camped—but each found the strength to rise up and complete the journeys.

One summer a parent reached out to me before a session and said that his son had a prosthetic leg. I explained that his son should be able to do everything except for the overnight backpack.
“Oh, he’ll be fine,” the father said, “Just treat him like any other kid.” And we did. The boy didn’t mutter a single complaint the whole way, over ten miles of trail and 4,500 feet of elevation gain—with a full pack on his back.

I gained a new hero that week.

I became an educator because I hoped to have an impact on future generations—but I did not anticipate the profound impact my students would have on my own life.

I’m Eric Newell and I’m wild about Utah and the power of outdoor programs in public schools to change lives.

Team Work Courtesy & Copyright Eric Newell, Photographer
Team Work
Courtesy & Copyright Eric Newell, Photographer

Credits:
Images: Courtesy & Copyright Eric Newell, Photographer
Featured Audio: Courtesy & Copyright © J. Chase and K.W. Baldwin as well as Anderson, Howe, and Wakeman
Text: Eric Newell, Edith Bowen Laboratory School, Utah State University
Additional Reading: Eric Newell & Lyle Bingham

Additional Reading

Wild About Utah Pieces by Eric Newell

Spinelli, Jerry, Maniac Magee, Little, Brown Books for Young Readers, November 1999, https://www.amazon.com/Maniac-Magee-Jerry-Spinelli/dp/0316809063

Hickham, Homer, October Sky, Dell, February 16, 1999, https://www.amazon.com/October-Sky-Coalwood-Homer-Hickam/dp/0440235502

Mount Logan Discovery Google Site: http://MountLoganDiscovery.org/

Mount Logan Discovery on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/mountlogan.discovery/

Mt Naomi Wilderness is part of the Uinta-Wasatch-Cache National Forest, USDA Forest Service, https://www.fs.usda.gov/r04/uinta-wasatch-cache

Grand Teton National Park, National Park Service, US Department of the Interior, https://www.nps.gov/grte/learn/index.htm

How to Set Up a Tent, Expert Advice, REI Co-op, https://www.rei.com/learn/expert-advice/tent-set-up.html

The Land of 10,000 Lakes

Eric views rapids Courtesy & Copyright Eric Newell
Nate Newell views rapids
Courtesy & Copyright Eric Newell

Nate Newell pulling in front of canoe Courtesy & Copyright Eric Newell
Nate Newell pulling in front of canoe
Courtesy & Copyright Eric Newell

Nate pulls canoe on shore Courtesy & Copyright Eric Newell Nate pulls canoe on shore
Courtesy & Copyright Eric Newell

Nate takes a break Courtesy & Copyright Eric Newell Nate takes a break
Courtesy & Copyright Eric Newell

Nate Newell with Eric Newell providing rudder Courtesy & Copyright Eric Newell Nate Newell with Eric Newell providing rudder
Courtesy & Copyright Eric Newell

Portaging Path Courtesy & Copyright Eric Newell Portaging Path
Courtesy & Copyright Eric Newell

Eric and Nate Newell portage canoe Courtesy & Copyright Eric Newell Eric and Nate Newell portage canoe
Courtesy & Copyright Eric Newell

Portaging the Canoe & Contents Courtesy & Copyright Eric Newell Portaging the Canoe & Contents
Courtesy & Copyright Eric Newell

Eric portaging the Canoe Courtesy & Copyright Eric Newell Eric portaging the Canoe
Courtesy & Copyright Eric Newell

Nate in Front Courtesy & Copyright Eric Newell Nate in Front
Courtesy & Copyright Eric Newell

Minnesota, in the Dakota language (mnisota or mní sóta) translates to “sky-tinted water.”

A year ago, my alarm blared in the pitch-darkness of the bunkhouse at Packsack Canoe Trips on the edge of the Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness.

5 AM comes fast.

I turned off the alarm, swung my legs out of my sleeping bag, and planted my bare feet on the cold plywood floor. I turned on the light. My adult son, Nate, squinted at me from the adjacent bunk. Flashing a groggy grin, he muttered, “That was a short night.”

The day before we drove from Minneapolis to Ely, Minnesota. After a late start and a dinner stop, we drove the last couple hours in the dark, down State Highway 1—the Voyageur Highway—a narrow two-lane strip of asphalt, with no shoulder, and crowded in on either side by endless forests.

Our forecast was for highs in the 40’s, a stiff wind, and scattered rain showers. If I didn’t live 1400 miles away, I would have been happy to wait to paddle for another day, but this was the window of time we had. And, as the Eagles sang so profoundly, “We may lose and we may win, but we may never be here again.”

Most canoe trips into the Boundary Waters are days to weeks long, but you can get a good sampling in a long day on the water.

By 7 AM we were at the Fall Lake boat ramp where our rented Kevlar canoe was waiting for us, as promised. All our good paddling gear was back in Utah, so we placed our day packs in garbage bags to keep them dry, and pushed off into a headwind, which also meant no mosquitos.

Traditionally the homelands of the Anishinaabe people—also known as the Ojibwe or Chippewa, the Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness includes more than 1,000 interconnected lakes, extends for 150 miles along the US/Canadian border, and adjoins Canada’s Quetico Provincial Park. Combined with Voyageur National Park, the three areas create nearly 2.5 million acres of internationally protected land, lakes, forests, and waterways that connect to Hudson Bay and the Arctic Ocean. In April, a twenty-year mining ban in the vicinity was overturned that poses a risk to the pristine waters.

The Boundary Waters is the most visited Wilderness Area in the United States, but not on a day like this. Nate and I zipped our jackets up, put our heads down, and paddled towards an island ahead that provided some refuge from the wind and a chance to rest. We continued picking our route this way, finding the sheltered coves and shorelines when possible and powering into the wind when we had to.

We portaged Newton Falls in a drizzle, then worked our way across Newton Lake, and portaged Pipestone Falls to Pipestone Bay on Basswood Lake. We paddled to an obscure portage route that led us to Azion Lake—a small lake 150 vertical feet above Basswood Lake. We ate lunch on the shore in light rain. The wind died down and we paddled a lap around this double-lobed lake on glassy water with several loons.

For our return voyage we had a light tailwind or no wind. The portages were long enough that we were grateful we paid extra for the Kevlar canoe rental. All in all, we paddled twelve miles, made six portages (three each way), paddled on four lakes, and I plucked three ticks off my pants. Nate seemed unbothered that they liked me more than him.

Though we were a bit soggy, both of us were smiling as we finished out, just a father and son paddling in sync, moving across the dark glassy water, tinted by a gray sky overhead.

I am Eric Newell and I am wild about wild lands in Utah and beyond.

Credits:
Images: Courtesy & Copyright Eric Newell, Photographer
Featured Audio: Courtesy & Copyright J. Chase and K.W. Baldwin and Anderson, Howe, and Wakeman.
Text: Eric Newell, Edith Bowen Laboratory School, Utah State University
Additional Reading: Eric Newell

Additional Reading

Wild About Utah Pieces by Eric Newell

Boundary Waters Canoe Trips & Log Cabins In Ely, Minnesota, PackSack Canoe Trips and Log Cabins by Nicholas Ott, https://www.packsackcanoetrips.com/

Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness, 2026 Explore Minnesota Tourism, MN.gov,
https://www.exploreminnesota.com/destinations/boundary-waters

Explore Boundary Waters Canoe Area, Friends of the Boundary Waters Wilderness,
https://www.friends-bwca.org/explore/

Quetico Provincial Park, Camp Quetico, Atikokan, Ontario, https://queticoprovincialpark.com/

Voyageurs National Park-Minnesota, US National Park System, US Department of the Interior, https://www.nps.gov/voya/index.htm

Save the Boundary Waters , SavetheBoundaryWaters.org, Northeastern Minnesotans for Wilderness (NMW), https://www.savetheboundarywaters.org/

Lawrence, Beatrice, Why mining in Minnesota’s Boundary Waters matters to Wisconsin, Wisconsin Public Radio, April 30, 2026, https://www.wpr.org/news/why-mining-minnesotas-boundary-waters-matters-wisconsin

Kraker, Dan, Trump ends ban on mining near the Boundary Waters, Minnesota Public Radio News, April 27, 2026, https://www.mprnews.org/story/2026/04/27/trump-ends-ban-on-mining-near-the-boundary-waters

John Muir Didn’t Wear Tevas

Three Teens Returning from the Wilderness Courtesy & Copyright Emma Mecham
Three Teens Returning from the Wilderness
Courtesy & Copyright Emma Mecham

Wasatch Rambling July 7, 1989 Dromedary Peak Summit Whitney Leary & Eric Newell Courtesy & Copyright Eric Newell Wasatch Rambling July 7, 1989
Dromedary Peak Summit
Whitney Leary & Eric Newell
Courtesy & Copyright Eric Newell

Morning Light Big Cottonwood Canyon July 7, 1989 Courtesy & Copyright Eric Newell Morning Light Big Cottonwood Canyon
July 7, 1989
Courtesy & Copyright Eric Newell

My Journal, July 6, 1989 Courtesy & Copyright Eric Newell My Journal, July 6, 1989
Courtesy & Copyright Eric Newell

My Journal, July 7, 1989 Courtesy & Copyright Eric Newell My Journal, July 7, 1989
Courtesy & Copyright Eric Newell

Our 15 year-old and two of her friends just returned from their first backpacking trip without adults. When she hatched the idea, my wife and I were supportive of this big voyage, knowing all the growth that happens when you venture out on our own into the wilds for the first time. We asked questions and provided all the support she and her friends asked for—but we didn’t overdo it. This was their adventure.

They were giddy as they shouldered their packs at the Logan Canyon trailhead and set foot towards a popular lake for two nights. When my wife picked them up three days later, they had stories to tell.

When they are old, like me, they won’t remember the TikTok videos or Instagram reels they might have watched during that span. But they will remember trying to stay warm in their hammocks, sleeping by a mountain lake under a trillion stars, the crispness of the air, and that feeling of being out there on their own and all the uncertainly and joy that goes with it.

When I was sixteen—after finishing another of John Muir’s many books, Wilderness Essays—I decided that if John Muir only took a loaf of bread, an overcoat, and a wool blanket with him into the Sierras, that I could do the same. Certainly John Muir wasn’t—to use a John Muir word—”hardier” than I was. This wasn’t my first backpacking trip without adults, but I learn my lessons the hard way. After all, good judgement comes from experience and experience comes from bad judgement.

So I took a wool blanket from the closet in the basement and left a perfectly good sleeping pad and twenty-degree sleeping bag at home. My friends and I only wore Teva sandals when we hiked or backpacked at the time and I didn’t pack any socks. It was July after all.

Now, I am certain John Muir did not wear Teva’s. He wore socks and boots—even in July. He also built big fires and cut pine-boughs for sleeping on that would insulate him from the cold ground. Wanting to leave no trace, I did neither of those things.

That was a rough night next to a lake in Big Cottonwood Canyon. Aside from shivering on cold, hard bedrock in the darkness, I was constantly under attack from swarms of mosquitos because I couldn’t fit both my head and my bare feet under the small blanket at the same time. I also learned that if you only eat a loaf of French Bread from the Albertsons bakery for dinner, you get a lot of gas.

It turns out John Muir was much “hardier” than I.

I got “out” of my wool blanket well before dawn that morning to move my body and warm up. I watched the light show on the 11,000 foot peaks above and the reflection in the dead-calm lake below.

After breakfast, I spotted a couple of mountain goats on a pass above the lake and we scrambled up to have a closer look. When we arrived at the saddle we decided that since we had come this far, we might as well continue on and figure out the tricky and exposed route to the summit of Dromedary Peak—in our Teva’s.
I’m glad my parents weren’t there to save me from my own naiveté.

It is often hard for parents to let go and give their teens the chance to venture out into Edward Abby’s “back of beyond” to be responsible for themselves and to learn from their own mistakes. But I’m glad my parents were willing, and I have found satisfaction supporting my children, and other people’s children, on their own adventures.
Edward Abbey said it well, “It is not enough to fight for the land; it is even more important to enjoy it. While you can. While it’s still here. So get out there and…mess around with your friends, ramble out yonder and explore the forests, encounter the grizz, climb the mountains, bag the peaks, run the rivers, breathe deep of that yet sweet and lucid air, sit quietly for a while and contemplate the precious stillness, that lovely, mysterious and awesome space.”

The average 18 year-old high school graduate today has spent approximately four-years of their lives on screens. Four years. Four years of childhood that they will never get back. Our children need wildness now, more than ever.

Maybe our public lands will save us from ourselves—if we don’t sell them off to the highest bidder.

I am Eric Newell, and I am wild about Utah and our wild public lands.

Credits:
Images: Courtesy & Copyright Eric Newell, Photographer
Featured Audio: Courtesy & © Shalayne Smith Needham & Courtesy & Copyright © Anderson, Howe, Wakeman
Text: Eric Newell, Edith Bowen Laboratory School, Utah State University
Additional Reading: Eric Newell & Lyle Bingham

Additional Reading

Wild About Utah Pieces by Eric Newell

Utah’s Public Lands

Utah's Public Lands: Canyonlands National Park Courtesy Pixabay, Contributor: Sharon Kehl Califano, Photographer
Canyonlands National Park
Courtesy Pixabay, Contributor: Sharon Kehl Califano, Photographer
One might justly conjecture we have been cursed by Utah’s magnificent wild landscapes, which have caused such division and consternation among our political leadership and their constituents. Some see vast sweeps of our national public lands as having little to offer for recreation or scenery, waste lands of little value beyond mineral extraction, or selling them to the highest bidder. These lands have been a hot issue in Utah for most of our state’s history. Absentee landowners continue to be viewed with a jaundiced eye. State and local control is championed, which is often in opposition to the majority of Utah citizens.

Preeminent naturalist John Muir stated, “The bottom third of Utah should become a National Park!” He was overtaken by its rugged, unadulterated majesty. Many other prominent authors and naturalists have spoken in its behalf- Terry Tempest Williams, Ed Abbey, Wallace Stegner, Steve Trimble, to name a few.

More recently, our Native people have jumped into the fray- Navajo, Paiute, Ute, Shoshone, and many other tribes. Following years of relentless negotiations, they finally have been offered a seat at the table on how these lands should be managed.

“Our ancestors knew that this land is not just our home, but a place that sustains us, nurtures us, and connects us to something far greater than ourselves, If we do not stand together, our children will never know the beauty these lands hold.” Louise Fernandez

I too have real affection for our national public lands. The first part of my existence was in Michigan farm country surrounded by “Keep Out” signs. There was little opportunity to escape to open space. Thus, I view these public lands in a very different lens from many of the “locals”, who perceive them as restricting their rights to use these lands as they see fit. Two very different cultures and lived experiences.

As a naturalist educator, I have led my students and others into many of these wild spaces. The experience is often transformative. Never before have many of them experienced such beauty and untrammeled landscapes. One of my international students was nearly brought to tears, reminiscent of his cattle herding days in the rural landscapes of Egypt.

Beyond serving as recreational and inspirational retreats, these incomprehensible, uncompromised wide-open spaces serve as bulwarks for clean air, healthy watersheds, and as a sanctuary for an abundance of species beyond our own, some threatened or endangered from creeping human contrivances.

As I write this, the U.S. Supreme Court has rejected Utah’s attempt to gain state control over 18.5 million acres of federal BLM lands, representing about 1/3 of our state’s area. The fight will continue, just as the seasons will continue in these priceless, sacred lands.

This is Jack Greene for Bridgerland Audubon Society and I’m wild about Utah’s Wild Lands

Credits:
Image: Courtesy Pixabay, Sharon Kehl Califano, Contributor https://pixabay.com/photos/canyonlands-canyons-desert-6600504/
Featured Audio: Courtesy & © Kevin Colver https://wildstore.wildsanctuary.com/collections/special-collections/kevin-colver, Courtesy & © Anderson, Howe and Wakeman,
Also includes audio Courtesy & © J. Chase & K.W. Baldwin
Text: Jack Greene, Bridgerland Audubon, https://bridgerlandaudubon.org/
Additional Reading: Jack Greene & Lyle W Bingham, Webmaster, Bridgerland Audubon, https://bridgerlandaudubon.org/

Additional Reading:

Jack Greene’s Postings on Wild About Utah, https://wildaboututah.org/author/jack/