Just a Hiker
09-22-2006, 01:59
I have been off the trail just long enough to have my heart broken once again by what is going on in the world. I had intended to get off the trail from my SOBO hike long enough to go to the VA Hospital to get a cortisone shot in my foot, and once again I made the mistake of watching the news and reading the newspaper. I am sure many of you don't have a clue who Barney Goodman is, so I'll fill you all in. Barney Goodman was a Disabled Veteran who lived in Texas. Barney was a double amputee who lived on a small Veteran's Pension and was a bit of a loner. In early September two young men attacked and killed Barney Goodman; further, they stole his Pension check and his prosthetic legs and then threw him into the river and left him to die. Barney Goodman was a man who proudly served his country and didn't derserve to die this way. As a Disabled Veteran myself, I can't begin to tell you how angry and hurt I became upon learning of Barney Goodman's death.
Those of you who know me know that I spent a long time in the U. S. Marine Corps and that I now spend most of my time on the Appalachian Trail. I spend most of each year on the AT, and the rest of my time working with homeless and disabled veterans in Maine. When I see people on the trail I usually tell them that I am a retired Marine and leave it at that. I do this because I am ashamed of how my military career ended and the downward spiral that my personal life took as a result. I guess it is human nature to not want to reveal embarrassing aspects of one's life, and I guess I am no different. However, the death of Barney Goodman has given the courage to tell my story. Until now I have hiked in complete anonymity and I have reaped the rewards of what the AT has to offer. This anonymity has kept me from truly helping people on the trail and it has kept me from truly helping the homeless and disabled veterans I encounter when I am not hiking. This all stops today because it is people like Barney Goodman who I want to help, and it is that hiker who feels that his life is without direction that I also want to help. I can't truly give back to the trail that has helped save my life if I keep my head in the sand and let the world pass me by.
I grew up wanting to be a U. S. Marine and as soon as I graduated from high school, I left for Parris Island, SC for Marine Corps Bootcamp. I had every intention of being a career Marine and I was a perfect fit in the Corps from the very beginning. I spent my first 5 years of my Marine Corps Career traveling the world with a combat unit where I saw action in Beruit, Lebanon, Grenada and Libya. In 1986, as a young Sergeant I was ordered to Washington, D. C. for Presidential Guard Duty, but while waiting for my Security Clearance I began to have spells where I didn't sleep for days and I also began to drink in order to slow down my brain. I really didn't know what to make of this nor did I know who to go to for help. The next 4 years at the Marine Barracks in Washington, D. C. were the most rewarding of my life; I was in President Bush's Inaugural Parade in 1988 and I was selected for some very important duties in the Military District of Washington. However, at the same time I was beginning to experience days and weeks of sleepless nights and this feeling that I could conquer the world. This often scared me, but it also came in handy because I could work circles around other Marines and I felt invincible.
By 1989 things began to unravel for me professionally as well as personally. Things started out great; I was selected for Drill Instructor Duty at Parris Island, SC and my daughter was also born. However, my bouts of "sleeplessness" and my drinking became more frequent and my overall thinking became very muddled. When I arrived in South Carolina for Drill Instructor School, I felt the change of scenery would do me some good, but the stress of Drill Instructor School threw me into a bout of "sleeplessness"and I ended up hurting my knee in a training exercise. I was dropped from school and ordered back to Washington, D. C. for duty. My life would never be the same. By 1991, I was drinking daily to slow down my brain so I could function as normally as I could, and in late 1991 my world came crashing down. On October 10, 1991 my military career came to an abrupt end; atleast in my eyes it did. That day is very blurry to me, but it ended with me striking a Marine Corps Captain which led me to be restrained and hospitalized for several months.
The doctors at the Naval Hospital said I had a "Personality Disorder" and instead of sending to a Court martial, the Marine Corps discharged me quickly and with little fanfare. On April 14, 1992, my military career was over and my life changed forever. Within 3 years of my discharge from the Marine Corps I was divorced, homeless, alcoholic and suffering from severe Bi-Polar Disorder. I spent the next 6 years in and out of Mental Institutions and living on the streets.
I refused to go to the VA for help because I was still angry and hurt over the way the Marine Corps had thrown me away. Instead I chose to live on the streets and slowly lose my mind. However, in the summer of 2000, my life change again; at this time I was living on the streets of the Techwood section of downtown Atlanta, GA. I was donating plasma to buy cheap booze and I was sleeping in the bushes near the MARTA station. I eventually tried to kill myself and was carted off to the VA Hospital in Decatur, GA where they began the process of giving me my life back. They immediately detoxed me and put me into treatment for alcoholism, but most importantly, I was finally properly diagnosed with Bi-Polar Disorder and given the proper medication for the first time. I spent the rest of the year on the Mental Ward of the VA Hospital trying to adjust to the medication and learning how to live again without alcohol. I spent many trying to figure out what went wrong and how I got to this point in my life. It's not like I woke up one day and decided I wanted to be mentally ill and a homeless alcoholic. I also tried to remember the last time I was truly at peace and truly happy. More than once my thoughts drifted to my youth when I was a Boy Scout and spending alot of time in the woods. My thoughts also drifted to the first time I walked on the Appalachian Trail; it was 1977 and my scout troop was hiking the AT in Smoky Mountain National Park. Those were wonderful times and I was truly happy.
As I spent the of 2000 in the VA Hospital, I spent most of my time reading anything I could find about the Appalachian Trail. I read about thru-hiking and what it took to complete a hike, and the more I read the more I realized that the AT could possibly restore me to sanity and possibly make me happy again. So in the Spring of 2001, with very little money, a school bookbag and a new pair of Wal-Mart boots, I headed to Springer Mt. to start hiking the Appalachian Trail.
I knew right away that I had made the right choice to hike the Appalachian Trail; however, I was felt very self-conscience because of the gear I was using. I would see the other hikers with all of this fancy gear and I would be with my bookbag and an old blanket I stole from a homeless shelter. But I headed north and eventually reached Damascus, VA. The first person I met in Damascus was Lone Wolf. He took one look at me and my gear and said I would make it too Maine. I didn't know Lone Wolf, but he sure made me feel good. The guys at MRO also treated me decent even though I knew that they knew I didn't have a dime to spend in their outfitter. They even offered me a tent and some hiking poles which I thought was an amazing gesture. Those acts of kindness from Lone Wolf and the guys from MRO helped make me realize that I could still be part of something special again. I had lost my Marine Corps Family, but I was feeling like I had a new one on the Appalachian Trail.
I didn't make it all the way to Mt. Katahdin that year because lets face it, a person can't live out of hiker boxes forever. However, I did make it pretty far and I did learn alot that year and I was determined I would be back, but more importantly I was happy again and I had found a home on the Appalachian Trail. I spent the Winter of 2001 working a job for the first time in a long while, and I was saving my money for next year's hiking season.
I had some ups and downs in 2002 because after all I do have a mental illness which requires me to take medication which I hate to take. I hiked south in 2002 with some used gear I had picked up and I met some wonderful people that year. I met a couple from Maine who remain my best friends to this day, and I met a man who made me truly feel accepted in the hiking community. That man is Bob Peoples and his dedication to the Appalachian Trail and his dedication to hikers is unlike anything I had ever seen. I stayed at Kincora for a week doing trail maintenance and learning about what it takes to maintain a trail like the AT. After leaving Kincora that year I also met a man whose trail name is "Just an Echo". He's an old Navy man who treated very decent and he also gave me my trail name that I still go by today.
2003 was a watershed year for me.......I headed south from katahdin and was having a great hike until I experienced a Manic episode and had to get off the trail in Hanover, New Hampshire. I was hospitalized at the VA Hospital in White River Junction, Vermont. While there, the Veteran's Administration began to dig into my military records and before I knew it I was awarded a full military pension. Apparently my condition wass brought on by my military service and now I had all of this money and benefits I thought I would never have. I left the VA Hospital in Vermont with some money in my pocket and I continued south on the AT. However, I needed to realize that I had to be careful because I am a recovering alcoholic and I do suffer from Bi-Polar Disorder. One thing that I was learning is that hikers like to take a drink now and then and they like to take vitamin THC on occasion, so I needed to be careful. I decided that I would probably always have to hike south because there were fewer people going south and I wouldn't be enticed to party as much. As I headed south I stayed away from other hikers and most of the trail towns in fear that I would relapse. I admit that the hiking was great but I often felt lonely and I also felt that I was missing out on the "Trail Experience".
I thru-hiked again in 2004.......it took awhile, but I managed to finish,and once again it was a rocky experience at times. Betweent the medication and other issues relative to mental illness, it took me all year to finish the trail. 2004 is the year I learned to hike in the Winter which has come in handy.
I headed south again in 2005 and it was once again a long process because I have to admit I relapsed on the trail. I cycled into a manic episode and I used alcohol is slow down my brain. I had to get off the trail for awhile to get my act together which ended up being a good thing. It was during this time that I discovered my other reason for living and that is to help homeless and disabled veterans. I began to volunteer at homeless shelters and the VA Hospital in Maine, and it was then that I realized some startling statistics. I didn't realize that 1 in 3 homeless men in American are in fact U. S. Veterans. After this eye opening experience working with homeless veterans, I resumed my hike in the middle of the winter. It was cold and lonely, but I have to say that it was a wonderful experience because I learned to spend time with myself and actually enjoy it.
In the early Spring of this year I actually met a woman. I really liked her but I wasn't sure how I was going to tell her about my background nor did I know how to tell her I was dedicated to the Appalachian Trail. As May approached I decided to solve my problems by asking my lady friend to come with me on the Appalachian Trail, and much to my surprise she said yes. I immediately went about getting her ready and outfitted for a SOBO thru-hike. I began the hike on May 26th, but she couldn't join me until early June. She joined me in Caratunk, Maine and we continued south. She did really well for a first time hiker, but she was afraid of heights which made the White Mountains interesting at times. As we continued south I began to realize that I couldn't hike with someone right behind me each and every day,and by the time we reached New York I was cycling into a Manic Episode because of the stress of taking care of someone else on the trail. But worst of all I wasn't hiking my hike and for the first time I felt out of place on the AT. Even though I loved this woman very much, I knew that changes had to be made right away and I knew that I needed to take action before I began to suffer from a full blown manic episode. Because of the bone spurs in my foot, I decided to get off the trail to get another cortisone shot and figure out what I was going to do. I returned to Maine and got a cortisone shot and spent a week at the VA Hospital resting and taking my medication. After a week at the VA Hospital I decided I needed to walk away from my lady friend and the relationship. It was the hardest decision of my life because as I said I love this woman very much, but the Appalachian Trail is what saved my life and if I have to choose between the trail and another person, I will choose the trail every time. This may seem harsh, but I guess one would have to hike a mile in my shoes to truly understand........And then there is Barney Goodman!
Barney Goodman didn't have a choice on the day he was killed. he couldn't walk away from anything because his wheelchair and legs had been stolen. I, on the other hand, have choices in my life. I have choices because I choose to stay sober today and I choose to take the medication that I dislike so much. I also have made the choice to let my trail family know just who I am and what I am all about. I do this not because I want anyone's sympathy or because I thought this would be entertaining to read, but because Barney Goodman didn't have a choice. His killers didn't allow him the dignity of dying in a humane way. He was stripped down to nothing and tossed into a river to die, and as a disabled veteran I can't let Barney Goodman's death be for nothing, because it is the Barney Goodmans of the world that I want to help. There are Barney Goodmans everywhere.....they are on the Appalachian Trail and they are in homeless shelters.......some may have no legs and some may suffer from mental illness, but they all deserve our help and they deserve to die with some dignity.
To a certain degree I am starting over tonight. I have finally allowed myself to be who I really am and I had to tell you guys because you people are the only family that I have. It's only now that I feel I can truly give back to the trail and the people who helped save my life. I have wiped the slate clean and I can get back on the trail with a renewed purpose and that is to hike the Appalachian Trail and try and help people along the way. I will be getting back on the trail soon, but I won't be getting back on where I left off. I will be starting over in Maine and heading south. I realize that this will mean a Winter SOBO, but life has seen it's way clear to give me a do-over and quite frankly it's the least I can do for Barney Goodman.
Thank you, Just Jim
Those of you who know me know that I spent a long time in the U. S. Marine Corps and that I now spend most of my time on the Appalachian Trail. I spend most of each year on the AT, and the rest of my time working with homeless and disabled veterans in Maine. When I see people on the trail I usually tell them that I am a retired Marine and leave it at that. I do this because I am ashamed of how my military career ended and the downward spiral that my personal life took as a result. I guess it is human nature to not want to reveal embarrassing aspects of one's life, and I guess I am no different. However, the death of Barney Goodman has given the courage to tell my story. Until now I have hiked in complete anonymity and I have reaped the rewards of what the AT has to offer. This anonymity has kept me from truly helping people on the trail and it has kept me from truly helping the homeless and disabled veterans I encounter when I am not hiking. This all stops today because it is people like Barney Goodman who I want to help, and it is that hiker who feels that his life is without direction that I also want to help. I can't truly give back to the trail that has helped save my life if I keep my head in the sand and let the world pass me by.
I grew up wanting to be a U. S. Marine and as soon as I graduated from high school, I left for Parris Island, SC for Marine Corps Bootcamp. I had every intention of being a career Marine and I was a perfect fit in the Corps from the very beginning. I spent my first 5 years of my Marine Corps Career traveling the world with a combat unit where I saw action in Beruit, Lebanon, Grenada and Libya. In 1986, as a young Sergeant I was ordered to Washington, D. C. for Presidential Guard Duty, but while waiting for my Security Clearance I began to have spells where I didn't sleep for days and I also began to drink in order to slow down my brain. I really didn't know what to make of this nor did I know who to go to for help. The next 4 years at the Marine Barracks in Washington, D. C. were the most rewarding of my life; I was in President Bush's Inaugural Parade in 1988 and I was selected for some very important duties in the Military District of Washington. However, at the same time I was beginning to experience days and weeks of sleepless nights and this feeling that I could conquer the world. This often scared me, but it also came in handy because I could work circles around other Marines and I felt invincible.
By 1989 things began to unravel for me professionally as well as personally. Things started out great; I was selected for Drill Instructor Duty at Parris Island, SC and my daughter was also born. However, my bouts of "sleeplessness" and my drinking became more frequent and my overall thinking became very muddled. When I arrived in South Carolina for Drill Instructor School, I felt the change of scenery would do me some good, but the stress of Drill Instructor School threw me into a bout of "sleeplessness"and I ended up hurting my knee in a training exercise. I was dropped from school and ordered back to Washington, D. C. for duty. My life would never be the same. By 1991, I was drinking daily to slow down my brain so I could function as normally as I could, and in late 1991 my world came crashing down. On October 10, 1991 my military career came to an abrupt end; atleast in my eyes it did. That day is very blurry to me, but it ended with me striking a Marine Corps Captain which led me to be restrained and hospitalized for several months.
The doctors at the Naval Hospital said I had a "Personality Disorder" and instead of sending to a Court martial, the Marine Corps discharged me quickly and with little fanfare. On April 14, 1992, my military career was over and my life changed forever. Within 3 years of my discharge from the Marine Corps I was divorced, homeless, alcoholic and suffering from severe Bi-Polar Disorder. I spent the next 6 years in and out of Mental Institutions and living on the streets.
I refused to go to the VA for help because I was still angry and hurt over the way the Marine Corps had thrown me away. Instead I chose to live on the streets and slowly lose my mind. However, in the summer of 2000, my life change again; at this time I was living on the streets of the Techwood section of downtown Atlanta, GA. I was donating plasma to buy cheap booze and I was sleeping in the bushes near the MARTA station. I eventually tried to kill myself and was carted off to the VA Hospital in Decatur, GA where they began the process of giving me my life back. They immediately detoxed me and put me into treatment for alcoholism, but most importantly, I was finally properly diagnosed with Bi-Polar Disorder and given the proper medication for the first time. I spent the rest of the year on the Mental Ward of the VA Hospital trying to adjust to the medication and learning how to live again without alcohol. I spent many trying to figure out what went wrong and how I got to this point in my life. It's not like I woke up one day and decided I wanted to be mentally ill and a homeless alcoholic. I also tried to remember the last time I was truly at peace and truly happy. More than once my thoughts drifted to my youth when I was a Boy Scout and spending alot of time in the woods. My thoughts also drifted to the first time I walked on the Appalachian Trail; it was 1977 and my scout troop was hiking the AT in Smoky Mountain National Park. Those were wonderful times and I was truly happy.
As I spent the of 2000 in the VA Hospital, I spent most of my time reading anything I could find about the Appalachian Trail. I read about thru-hiking and what it took to complete a hike, and the more I read the more I realized that the AT could possibly restore me to sanity and possibly make me happy again. So in the Spring of 2001, with very little money, a school bookbag and a new pair of Wal-Mart boots, I headed to Springer Mt. to start hiking the Appalachian Trail.
I knew right away that I had made the right choice to hike the Appalachian Trail; however, I was felt very self-conscience because of the gear I was using. I would see the other hikers with all of this fancy gear and I would be with my bookbag and an old blanket I stole from a homeless shelter. But I headed north and eventually reached Damascus, VA. The first person I met in Damascus was Lone Wolf. He took one look at me and my gear and said I would make it too Maine. I didn't know Lone Wolf, but he sure made me feel good. The guys at MRO also treated me decent even though I knew that they knew I didn't have a dime to spend in their outfitter. They even offered me a tent and some hiking poles which I thought was an amazing gesture. Those acts of kindness from Lone Wolf and the guys from MRO helped make me realize that I could still be part of something special again. I had lost my Marine Corps Family, but I was feeling like I had a new one on the Appalachian Trail.
I didn't make it all the way to Mt. Katahdin that year because lets face it, a person can't live out of hiker boxes forever. However, I did make it pretty far and I did learn alot that year and I was determined I would be back, but more importantly I was happy again and I had found a home on the Appalachian Trail. I spent the Winter of 2001 working a job for the first time in a long while, and I was saving my money for next year's hiking season.
I had some ups and downs in 2002 because after all I do have a mental illness which requires me to take medication which I hate to take. I hiked south in 2002 with some used gear I had picked up and I met some wonderful people that year. I met a couple from Maine who remain my best friends to this day, and I met a man who made me truly feel accepted in the hiking community. That man is Bob Peoples and his dedication to the Appalachian Trail and his dedication to hikers is unlike anything I had ever seen. I stayed at Kincora for a week doing trail maintenance and learning about what it takes to maintain a trail like the AT. After leaving Kincora that year I also met a man whose trail name is "Just an Echo". He's an old Navy man who treated very decent and he also gave me my trail name that I still go by today.
2003 was a watershed year for me.......I headed south from katahdin and was having a great hike until I experienced a Manic episode and had to get off the trail in Hanover, New Hampshire. I was hospitalized at the VA Hospital in White River Junction, Vermont. While there, the Veteran's Administration began to dig into my military records and before I knew it I was awarded a full military pension. Apparently my condition wass brought on by my military service and now I had all of this money and benefits I thought I would never have. I left the VA Hospital in Vermont with some money in my pocket and I continued south on the AT. However, I needed to realize that I had to be careful because I am a recovering alcoholic and I do suffer from Bi-Polar Disorder. One thing that I was learning is that hikers like to take a drink now and then and they like to take vitamin THC on occasion, so I needed to be careful. I decided that I would probably always have to hike south because there were fewer people going south and I wouldn't be enticed to party as much. As I headed south I stayed away from other hikers and most of the trail towns in fear that I would relapse. I admit that the hiking was great but I often felt lonely and I also felt that I was missing out on the "Trail Experience".
I thru-hiked again in 2004.......it took awhile, but I managed to finish,and once again it was a rocky experience at times. Betweent the medication and other issues relative to mental illness, it took me all year to finish the trail. 2004 is the year I learned to hike in the Winter which has come in handy.
I headed south again in 2005 and it was once again a long process because I have to admit I relapsed on the trail. I cycled into a manic episode and I used alcohol is slow down my brain. I had to get off the trail for awhile to get my act together which ended up being a good thing. It was during this time that I discovered my other reason for living and that is to help homeless and disabled veterans. I began to volunteer at homeless shelters and the VA Hospital in Maine, and it was then that I realized some startling statistics. I didn't realize that 1 in 3 homeless men in American are in fact U. S. Veterans. After this eye opening experience working with homeless veterans, I resumed my hike in the middle of the winter. It was cold and lonely, but I have to say that it was a wonderful experience because I learned to spend time with myself and actually enjoy it.
In the early Spring of this year I actually met a woman. I really liked her but I wasn't sure how I was going to tell her about my background nor did I know how to tell her I was dedicated to the Appalachian Trail. As May approached I decided to solve my problems by asking my lady friend to come with me on the Appalachian Trail, and much to my surprise she said yes. I immediately went about getting her ready and outfitted for a SOBO thru-hike. I began the hike on May 26th, but she couldn't join me until early June. She joined me in Caratunk, Maine and we continued south. She did really well for a first time hiker, but she was afraid of heights which made the White Mountains interesting at times. As we continued south I began to realize that I couldn't hike with someone right behind me each and every day,and by the time we reached New York I was cycling into a Manic Episode because of the stress of taking care of someone else on the trail. But worst of all I wasn't hiking my hike and for the first time I felt out of place on the AT. Even though I loved this woman very much, I knew that changes had to be made right away and I knew that I needed to take action before I began to suffer from a full blown manic episode. Because of the bone spurs in my foot, I decided to get off the trail to get another cortisone shot and figure out what I was going to do. I returned to Maine and got a cortisone shot and spent a week at the VA Hospital resting and taking my medication. After a week at the VA Hospital I decided I needed to walk away from my lady friend and the relationship. It was the hardest decision of my life because as I said I love this woman very much, but the Appalachian Trail is what saved my life and if I have to choose between the trail and another person, I will choose the trail every time. This may seem harsh, but I guess one would have to hike a mile in my shoes to truly understand........And then there is Barney Goodman!
Barney Goodman didn't have a choice on the day he was killed. he couldn't walk away from anything because his wheelchair and legs had been stolen. I, on the other hand, have choices in my life. I have choices because I choose to stay sober today and I choose to take the medication that I dislike so much. I also have made the choice to let my trail family know just who I am and what I am all about. I do this not because I want anyone's sympathy or because I thought this would be entertaining to read, but because Barney Goodman didn't have a choice. His killers didn't allow him the dignity of dying in a humane way. He was stripped down to nothing and tossed into a river to die, and as a disabled veteran I can't let Barney Goodman's death be for nothing, because it is the Barney Goodmans of the world that I want to help. There are Barney Goodmans everywhere.....they are on the Appalachian Trail and they are in homeless shelters.......some may have no legs and some may suffer from mental illness, but they all deserve our help and they deserve to die with some dignity.
To a certain degree I am starting over tonight. I have finally allowed myself to be who I really am and I had to tell you guys because you people are the only family that I have. It's only now that I feel I can truly give back to the trail and the people who helped save my life. I have wiped the slate clean and I can get back on the trail with a renewed purpose and that is to hike the Appalachian Trail and try and help people along the way. I will be getting back on the trail soon, but I won't be getting back on where I left off. I will be starting over in Maine and heading south. I realize that this will mean a Winter SOBO, but life has seen it's way clear to give me a do-over and quite frankly it's the least I can do for Barney Goodman.
Thank you, Just Jim