Walking Off the Dead

Robert Hammond in the Sierra - photo courtesy of Robert Hammond.

At 58 years old, Robert Hammond did something entirely unexpected. He sold his business, his car, all his possessions, and wandered off alone, on foot, into the Sonoran Desert. He wasn’t crazy. He wasn't trying to live out any romanticized mountain-man fantasy. Robert Hammond was trying to change his life.

From a dusty roadside in Ojai, California, Hammond reflected on the year that nearly killed him. In 2014, the anxiety and depression he had battled since childhood had finally won.

“I have covered up my mental duress with wit, humor, alcohol and drugs to mask the living hell that makes its residence in my brain,” Hammond said.

In 2014, he couldn’t contain that hell any longer. After he lost his temper with his teenage son Dillon, Hammond set out on a 15,000-mile road trip around the Southwest. Long a nature lover, Hammond thought the natural beauty of the vast western landscape would heal him. He thought it would change him. But the road trip soon morphed into a “death drive.”

Behind the wheel he dwelt on the incident with Dillon. His own words knives in his heart. Guilt and regret often obscured the desert vistas and mountain views outside his Jeep windows. In 10 minutes of screaming at his son he had “ruined” a tightknit relationship that had taken him 17 years to build. He could never forgive himself. He reasoned that he was better off dead.

Hammond yearned to “check out,” but the pain he knew it would cause those he loved always stayed his hand. Then one night in a “sleazy” Roswell motel room, he saw a report of Robin Williams’ suicide on T.V., and it saved his life.

“I realized that depression is non-judgmental and does not discriminate,” Hammond said.

Above all, he considered how devastated Williams’ kids must be, and resolved not to afflict his own kids with the same pain.

He resolved to be a better father. He needed to see his son graduate high school. He had to be with his daughter on her wedding day. He wanted to be there for the birth of his grandkids. He wanted to live. But how?

“I knew big changes had to take place as I was among the walking dead,” Hammond said.

He decided to walk off the dead by trekking 2,500 miles to Seattle via the Pacific Crest Trail. There he’ll see his oldest daughter Lauren’s wedding and meet his new grandchild. Maybe do some motivational speaking if anyone cares to listen. After a brief stay, he wants to catch the Continental Divide Trail in Montana, and trek another 3,000 miles back to Arizona.

Dillon believed his dad’s plan was “a little crazy.” He supported him anyway, hoping that this trail to self-discovery would bring the change he knew his father desperately needed. Hopes aside, Dillon can’t help but feel a little skeptical. This isn’t the first time his father has tried to remake himself. Through the years Dillon has seen the back-and-forth. The up-and-down. He knows the mammoth challenge his dad is facing in becoming the man he wants to be. Despite this, Dillon remains ever optimistic.

This time his dad, “seems to have a different attitude,” he said.

After a January 15 start from New River, Arizona, Hammond is poised to enter the famed Sierra Nevada range in California, but high winds and a frigid forecast find him waiting restlessly in the low-country. He’s battled injury, illness, hunger, thirst and cold. He quit his antidepressants cold turkey three weeks ago. But well over 1,000 miles in, his spirits are high.

The desert took its toll. Water was scarce. Some days he carried 2 gallons to be safe. Other days he drank from puddles. His 16-mile-a-day pace brutalized his feet (he’s currently on his fourth pair of boots). A chest infection laid him up for four days; shin splints for another two. But he kept going.

In southern California, he veered off the PCT. His savings dried up and hotels were no longer an option in towns. He slept in a train car, under bridges, on beaches and next to highways. In San Bernardino, he stealth camped behind Sears.

Despite some detours, Hammond always returns to the PCT. Like so many other hikers, drawn to the solitude and peace of mind that only wilderness provides. For Hammond, the trail is therapy. The lonely miles provide endless hours of reflection and retrospection. The snowcapped mountains a reminder of that which truly matters; family, friends and human decency.

It is this decency that has made the largest impact on Hammond. His elderly mother faithfully sending care packages. The companionship of Chris (aka Knuckles) from his early days on the PCT. Priscilla Kelly, a Facebook friend he’d never met who provided him food and shelter. “Anonymous Dave” in Mammoth Lakes, who gave him gloves and sunglasses. The friends and strangers who have donated to his GoFundMe page. Longtime friend Lynda Lukan offering support and encouragement over the phone whenever he has a signal.

Hammond’s journey was somewhat of a shock for Lukan. Although they shared a home for five years, she never suspected the severity of Hammond’s emotional problems. For her, Hammond was a good man and a good father, who had regular problems like everyone else. It wasn't until after his fight with Dillon that she realized just how much he was suffering.

“I hope he gets clarity and renewness (sic). I hope he can forgive himself,” Lukan said.

As Hammond fights snow and cold in the Sierras, his quest continues. He feels like a changed man, and physically he is. Hammond has lost 30 pounds as hard-earned miles have slowly replaced fat with lean muscle mass. Emotionally, the depression and anxiety have mostly disappeared, but so far there’s no end in sight on the path to self-forgiveness.

“Failure has not been an option at all, ever,” he said.

Only time will tell.

*Hammond is currently back in Phoenix waiting to see Dillon graduate, and working odd jobs to raise money for the completion of his journey. You can help him get back on the trail by donating to his GoFundMe page, here.

Do What With A Rock?

How far are you willing to go to cut weight from your pack?

... and why am I holding this rock?

Check out the full story on The Mountain Blog
http://www.mountaingear.com/themountainblog/2013/09/do-what-with-a-rock/

Weekend Warrior

A few years ago I decided that I wanted to devote my life to backpacking. I didn't want to work some nine-to-five, and squeeze backpacking trips in whenever I could. I wanted to backpack full time... But the more I worked toward that goal, the more I realized how difficult it would be. Everyday I read about people thru-hiking the long trails every year, and I wonder, "How do they do it?" How do people afford spending half the year on the trail? What becomes of their home life? What do they go back to?

It was easy for me to give up most of my possessions when I decided that I no longer wanted to be controlled by them. That was the easy part. My last apartment I was afraid to sign a year lease. I was afraid  to be tied down, to be contractually obligated to one place for a year. I kept thinking that having a lease would hold me back from what I really wanted to do... Hesitantly I relented, and signed the year lease... and moved to Arizona 6 months later.

Until I can find a way to support my family doing what I love, I will remain what I have always been, a weekend warrior. Backpacking on the weekends has taken me on some epic adventures to some amazing places. To me, backpacking is about seeing and being in those special places, and I feel like they are all a part of me now. 

Being a weekend warrior does not make me less of a backpacker, though sometimes I feel that way when I read about guys like Barefoot Jake or The Hiking Dude, who's adventures seemingly follow one after the other. Sometimes I feel that way because of this sort of backpacker elitism attitude I've encountered from other bloggers, or on certain forums, or even from some comments people have left me on my own blog. Man, I can't really grasp that kind of useless negativity, because In my world there's no time for it.

 It's perfectly fine if your pack weighs 30 pounds, or if you prefer boots over shoes, or if you use a free-standing tent instead of a tarp. There isn't anything wrong with filtering your water or using a canister stove. And if you only hiked 5 miles in one day then I say more power to ya, because it's not about speed, its about being there, and soaking in the grandeur, and embracing that peace of mind that you only get from being in the woods.

I long for the days when I can backpack the long trails. When I can spend weeks, even moths, at a time in the woods. The call of the wild is too strong in me for that not to happen eventually... For now, I'm proud to call myself a weekend warrior.

My cousin Luke at Revett Lake in north Idaho.

Gear Review: Therma-a-Rest Z-Lite Sleeping Pad

Therm-a-Rest Z Lite

This foam mattress is one of the most popular sleeping pads for ultra-lite backpackers, and for good reason, it only weighs a scant 14 ounces. I bought this last year while planning my thru-hike of the Appalachian Trail, which I had to cancel do to a back injury (see I Wake Up ). I wanted something to sleep on that I didn't have to blow up every night, and wouldn't ever go flat. Other than the weight, that's the best thing about this pad. You reach your campsite for the night, unstrap it from your pack, toss it in the tent, and you are done. You don't even need a tent either. Set the pad on the ground, it won't damage it in any way. Need a chair to sit by the fire? Fold it up, it works great. It's durable with multiple uses, and compared to the inflatable pads, it's very inexpensive, just 39.95 on Amazon.

The problem is that the ultra-lite weight comes with a catch. The first, and most obvious, is that it's bulky. Unless you have a really big pack, you'll have to strap this to the outside, which in itself presents a new problem, how to protect it from the rain. Therm-a-Rest does not sell a stuff sack sized for the Z-Lite, so you'll have to either find one that fits, or make one yourself if you want to go that route. The other option is to buy an over-sized pack cover, or a poncho that will cover both you and the pack. Even if it get's wet, in my experience it did not soak or retain any moisture, so wiping it down with a camp towel or a piece of clothing could work too.

My biggest issue with this pad is comfort. Through my youth and even as recently as last summer, I slept on the bare ground while out in the wilderness. Hard ground never bothered me. As I've gotten older however my sleeping style has shifted to more of a side posture, which is just fine in a bed. On the ground or the Z-Lite however, I've found myself waking up in the middle of the night in pain or with a dead arm, which sucks. On my back or stomach I sleep fine. Ground selection is something to really consider when using this pad. Unlike the Big Agnes Air Core, you don't want to lay the Z-Lite on hard or rocky ground, because you'll feel it in the middle of the night.

I can't really comment on the insulating qualities. I've mostly used this pad in Arizona in Spring and Summer where the nights rarely get below 50. I used it for a 5 day 50 mile trek around the Seven Devils in Idaho last August, and with my North Face Orion 20, I never slept cold into the 40's.

Summary: 

If you don't mind trading comfort for light-weight simplicity then I would recommend the Therm-a-Rest Z Lite. It's easy, durable, and you don't have to worry about it going flat in the middle of the night. I've read plenty of cases where this pad lasted an entire 2,000 mile-plus thru-hike. But if you're a side sleeper, or need the comfort of a soft bed, then you may want to reconsider.

Hells Canyon Wilderness with my cousin Jesse. Z-Lite strapped to my backpack.

Last Minute

Last Tuesday I hurt my back at work. I was laid up for the rest of the week on the couch playing video games. It gave me a a lot of time to think, just sitting around like that with nothing to do. I thought about my truck and how I would fix it. I thought about the lease on my house, it will be up in a couple months and I need to find an apartment. I think about how nice it is to get away from work for a little bit. One day while searching through Netflix I find a National Geographic documentary on the Appalachian Trail. I've seen it before, and I loved it. It made fantasize about the time when I will through-hike the trail. When I will take the journey. I watch it again.

I have been toying with the idea of thru-hiking ever since I learned of its existence. I read a book by Chris Townsend. He has hiked the Triple Crown. I read that he has hiked thousands of miles, and I am instantly swept up in the romance and sheer adventure of such an undertaking. I resolve then that someday, when the time is right, I will hike thousands of miles.

I am laying on the couch watching the documentary. I learn that most hikers going northbound depart from Georgia in March and April. "Interesting" I think, because my lease is up in February. All of the sudden it hits me. My lease is going to be up, and I don't have to find an apartment right away. I have no kids, no wife, no one else that I am responsible for. I don't need to spend a year planning. I could hike the AT this April!

My mind is made up. I am doing it, and Iv'e thought of little else since I made that decision. In fact, the AT has possessed me. I have the bug you might say.