12 Amazing Albums Playing in the Office.

Kammok Update: Price Changes Coming June 16 Howdy, Outsiders — At Kammok, our mission has always been simple: to help you Go Far and Rest Easy. That mission hasn’t changed—but the world around us has.  By now, we're all aware of the new tariffs and global manufacturing shifts, which have significantly increased our production costs—in some cases, more than doubling them. We’ve done all we can to absorb these increases ourselves—streamlining operations, reducing internal costs, and working closely with suppliers. Still, to keep delivering the quality and innovation you expect, a price increase will take effect on June 16. We’ve intentionally held off on these price changes as long as possible so you can have time to gear up now at current prices. You’ll still get best-in-class gear, but now with added savings before the change. We're also excited to announce new products arriving soon, specifically designed to enhance your experiences with the Crosswing and Swiftlet. Look out for our first new product drop later this week! Let’s keep adventuring—together.   Go Far, Rest Easy Greg McEvillyCEO, Kammok

Kammok team member Lawton Cook writes about his first trip out to West Texas and why he can't help but go back for more. •     •     • "Finally, I wish to offer my opinion, just as a private visitor, that although the old saying that 'he who travels must be prepared to take away only as much as he brings with him' applies to all our great parks, it holds true especially of Big Bend. It is a desert-mountain country whose qualities offer an allurement, a satisfaction of soul, only if the visitor will put himself in the right mood, and will remain long enough to know it with some intimacy. He who drives in and drives out without letting the motor cool, may see, to be sure, some most interesting natural objects, but he will not know, and can never love, Big Bend." -Freeman Tilden, 1945 When you love a place so much, it can be hard to reduce every inch of it into a few words. I’ve visited Big Bend regularly over the last five years, but I’ve written very little about those experiences. Where do you start in describing a place that has such a commanding hold on you? The task feels akin to describing every inch of your best friend and lining out their deepest secrets, personality traits, and physical features down to the very last hair on their head. I want to tell you of the long afternoons paddling through stunning canyons, passing a bottle of sotol around a campfire as the Rio whispers in the night, walking dusty desert trails at sunset and continuing on after dusk, and waking to stunning views from high in the Chisos Mountains as the sun rises blood red over the Sierra del Carmen.  I’ll just tell it how I remember it, the way I saw it for the first time. A few months after my wife and I were married in Austin in 2016, we were still living with a wonderful carelessness afforded by our lack of responsibility. No dogs, no kids, no obligations. We decided around 8 p.m. on a Friday evening that nothing was stopping us from driving seven hours to Big Bend for the long weekend, so we packed our Honda Civic and pointed west. It didn’t take too long for the endorphins to wear off, and the quiet slog of I-10 rumbled me to a sleepy stupor. We made it to Ozona before crashing in a roadside motel and then woke fresh the next morning and made for Fort Stockton. South of the I-10 turnoff in Fort Stockton, the Glass Mountains erupted from the Chihuahuan Desert like nothing else I’d seen in Texas. We stopped the car on the side of the highway so we could take pictures of these sub-6,000 foot peaks. Plenty of folks from the Mountain West, where 14ers mark the landscape, would be unimpressed by these lowlying mountains, especially given their inaccessible location on private land behind barbed wire fences, but I was blown away that such a place existed in my home state. After spending a day in Alpine and Marfa, we finally rolled into the north entrance of the park well after dark and found a campsite at Rio Grande Village. The next morning we woke to the pale Chihuahuan Desert, everything dust covered and dry, begging for rain. We peered over the banks of the Rio to catch a first glimpse at the muddy river below, not knowing in just a few years time we’d be in those waters, pulling our paddles through the current as our canoes pushed forward into Boquillas Canyon. From above we could see a few locals from Boquillas del Carmen on the opposite side, lounging in the shade of the mesquites, waiting for their friend who was fording the river on a skinny horse to meet them. He’d placed an assortment of handmade desert trinkets on a rock for tourists to purchase—ocotillos, roadrunners, and other desert plants made from twisted wire and brightly colored beads—with an empty pickle jar as an honor system cash register. This was my first time to see our southern border, and the peacefulness of the place, the quiet hush of the river below the sun-baked desert, subverted all other notions I had about this controversial line in the sand.  When you live in a place all of your life, you get the feeling you know everything there is to know about it. But when you call a place as big as Texas home, you’ll soon find out driving across it that there’s much of it you’ve never seen—much of it you’ll likely never see. Not only that, but with opinions as big as the state itself, you also bring with you certain ideas and biases that don’t really bear out in truth. Like the idea that West Texas is all flat and brown, that mountains are far from home, and that the border is a place to fear. During that first visit to Big Bend, all my ideas about Texas were turned upside down. I kept asking aloud how no one had ever told me this place existed. How had I never, in all my 26 years in Texas, visited what I now believe to be the most exceptionally beautiful part of our state? It was a feeling of both incredible gratitude for being in the place and almost irritation for having not seen it sooner. Those feelings were only amplified by my first drive into the Chisos. Amanda and I drove towards the basin and watched as candelilla and ocotillo gave way to blooming sotol plants, and as we rose, to vibrant junipers and pinyon pines. The mountains glowed all around, crags of rock that seemed to belong somewhere else.  The view of the mountains from the road were enchanting—guaranteeing I would be coming back year after year. We snagged a campsite in the Chisos Basin campground, not knowing just how incredibly lucky we were to nab an open spot, and hiked the always classic Window Trail for the very first time. It seems like we stretched that hike into hours, stopping often to examine a plant we’d never seen before or take a picture of a new view. The Window itself was mind blowing, and although it's one of the more touristy places on the map, it remains one of my favorite trails in the park. I mean, how could it not? That evening we shared our campsite with a couple who rolled in late without a reservation. They had a charcoal grill with them, almost like a fire pit, and we were grateful to have a warm blaze to sit around in the cool mountain air. We got to know each other over too much whiskey, and then retreated to our tents for one last view of the brightest stars I’d ever seen in my life. We wanted to do one last hike before making the drive back, but of course we woke late the next morning and didn’t have our campsite packed up until noon. A ranger at the visitor center mentioned Emory Peak when we went looking for advice, adding “But you really should have started earlier in the day. It’s about a six to eight hour hike, and it’ll be pretty hot. Bring plenty of water if you decide to go.”  I tried to persuade Amanda to do anything else, but her heart was set on climbing Emory Peak. Even if we absolutely crushed the hike, we were still looking at a seven hour drive on the other side with work the next day in Austin. When I told her we couldn’t do the hike she put on the most pitiful face of disappointment. In the end we continued the “what the hell” theme we started the trip with. Sure, we can drive to Big Bend in the middle of the night. If we can do that, surely we can knock out this awesome hike and make it back home at 3am. I’ll admit that I agreed to the plan pretty begrudgingly, but usually when Amanda drags me into something, it turns out to be pretty memorable.  The hike up Emory Peak and back  is about ten miles. The park ranger told us to carry about a gallon of water each for the elevation gain and heat exposure, and I looked at our two Nalgenes with a feeling of complete inadequacy. Call it ingenuity or total noob move, but I bought a 2.5 gallon jug of water from the convenience store—the kind of jug with the spigot on one end and the handle on top—and strapped it to my Topo Designs Rover Pack for the long hike up. I don’t think Topo Designs would mind me saying this considering their pack was not designed to awkwardly carry a huge jug of water, but that was the most uncomfortable backpack I’d ever slung over my shoulders. It was like being in fourth grade again carrying a Jansport backpack crammed with every single text book, notebook, and pencil. Needless to say we invested in more appropriate gear after this adventure. We made it to the top of Emory Peak on wobbly, unseasoned legs, but we made it nonetheless. At the end of the trail, we scrambled nervously up the small rock face to the summit and touched the survey marker like we were crossing a finish line. I didn’t know it at the time, but from the top of the Chisos Mountains, we were looking at Elephant Tusk down below across the Dodson Trail and Santa Elena Canyon beyond. To the southeast, the Sierra del Carmen range stood watching over Boquillas just across the Rio Grande, and to the north, Santiago Peak emerged among smaller mountains, pointing the way home. On that day five years ago I looked out at a place completely foreign to me, nameless in every way. A 360 degree view of a Texas I didn’t recognize, but one I couldn’t wait to get to know.  Five years later, I’m still no expert on Big Bend by any stretch. And in some ways, I enjoy that. I’ve been back for several paddle trips on the Rio and some hikes in the Chisos, and I still haven’t even scratched the surface of what this place offers. That means every time I go I get to put my boots in a new patch of dirt, learn something new, and be completely mystified. But I think if you asked someone who’d been going to Big Bend for a lifetime, they’d probably tell you they feel the same way. Our Palette of the Bend print draws colors from South Rim views high in the Chisos where the first light of day paints Big Bend with such brilliant shades that you wish the sun would stop so you could take it all in just a little bit longer. Beyond that though, this print represents our inability to capture just how grand this place is, from the resilient desert to the mighty canyons and all the way to the top of Texas’s most glorious mountain range. It’s a place worth taking your time in—a landscape that demands your attention with all its wonder, causing you to sit in silence and disbelief. It’s a feeling worth leaning into. And every time you go back, hopefully you’ll be just as amazed by this place as you were on your very first visit. Amanda and I hit the parking lot with exhausted legs and aching feet after a speedy hike down the Pinnacles Trail. We sank into our Honda Civic, kicking our shoes off on the floorboard and peeling off sweat soaked socks revealing ankles caked in trail dust. The sun set just as we passed the Persimmon Gap park entrance, and we felt pleasantly exhausted, proud of the adventure we’d chosen. We ate burgers in the Fort Stockton Dairy Queen before refueling with gas and heading east on I-10 for the long drive back, and we made it to our apartment in Austin at about 3am, ready to fall fast asleep after a job well done. Our first Big Bend trip was over, but we’d be back. I’ll leave you with this quote from Freeman Tilden, who describes my feelings of Big Bend so beautifully and succinctly: “Big Bend Park is the untamed, aloof, but never-ugly desert, with a whimsical river for deckle edge. Some folks say they do not like the desert. I wonder if they remained long enough to know? To me, the hours just before and after sunset, in this desert, in the shadow of the Sierra del Camens, when they redden to a deep crimson, and then fade to violet, with a finality of black velvet—and the moon comes rising behind the Chisos, and cleanliness and vastness enwrap everything—to me this is one of life’s moving experiences. Nobody really knows the desert who has not felt, seen, and surrendered himself to it, at dusk.”  It’s time to head out west.

Depending on where you are in the world, and how cold it is outside, the thought of camping right now might not have even crossed your mind. While you’re bundled up at home this winter, take the opportunity to plan your adventures early! Texas state parks allow you to book campsites five months in advance while most national parks allow you to do so six months in advance. Backcountry and lottery permits are a tad trickier, and there’s no time like the present to apply before they’re all snatched up.  We've put together eight bucket-list-worthy trips that take a bit more logistical planning than a simple reservation. Best of luck to everyone who applies for these epic permits! 1. Thru-Hike The Narrows, Zion National Park Hiking The Narrows is a bucket list item for many, which contributes to the ultra-competitive booking system for the 16-mile through-hike. A backcountry permit is needed whether you want to hike it in a single day or camp halfway, but if you plan to camp, a backcountry campsite booking is required as well. The trick here? Booking opens at 10 a.m. Mountain Time on the 5th of every month, and the NPS reports “most spaces will become fully booked for the next month within minutes of reservations opening.” Don’t be discouraged. You can plan for an out-and-back trip in the narrows with no special permit required. Plan for this one in late spring and summer when temps rise and water levels drop.     2. Rim to Rim, Grand Canyon National Park A backcountry camping permit for Grand Canyon is even tougher to nab than The Narrows and more logistically challenging as well. You’ll need to plan months in advance and mail or fax your request to the NPS in order to get approved. A Rim to Rim hike in Grand Canyon National Park is extremely challenging when you consider the elevation change and hot, dry conditions. According to HikingGuy.com, the most viable windows for a trip like this is the end of May or beginning of October when hotter temps are least likely. Check out the full guide at HikingGuy and start making those plans now!     3. See the fall colors in Lost Maples State Natural Area This state natural area outside of San Antonio is best known for its fall foliage. While most Texas trees like pecans and oaks turn to brown and shed their leaves during winter, Lost Maples offers the Lone Star State some true fall colors. Bigtooth maples not common in most of the state still thrive in this unique microclimate and offer a spectacular show come November. But you’ll have to plan in advance if you want to see the brilliant orange leaves in person. Based on the Fall Foliage Report from 2021 and a quick phone call to the park headquarters, it sounds like planning your trip around Veterans Day is the ideal time. Since Texas state parks don't allow you to reserve campsites more than five months out, set a reminder in your phone for June as spots fill up quickly. Day passes are sold a month in advance and also sell out well in advance.     4. Visit The Wave at Paria Canyon-Vermilion Cliffs Wilderness This gem in Arizona is a highly sought after photo destination for social media influencers, but it’s so much more than a selfie spot. The Wave is one of the most visually interesting geological structures in North America. Due to its popularity and the fragile nature of the unique ecosystem, permits are limited to a highly competitive lottery system. From the Bureau of Land Management website: “Forty-eight people or 12 groups (whichever comes first) each day are awarded permits through an online lottery four months in advance.” A same-day walk-in lottery is also available, but they limit numbers to 16 people or four groups. Best of luck on this one—the lucky few are in for a heck of an adventure.     5. Summit Mt. Whitney, Inyo National Forest Looking to escape in the beautiful Sierra Nevadas? Might as well summit the tallest peak in California while you’re at it. For most hikers, this is a 12-hour day minimum: 22 miles out and back with over 6,200 feet of elevation gain. If this doesn’t deter you, then it’s time to call your friends and put some dates on the calendar! Best hiking conditions run from July to late September when the trail is usually free of snow. Not so fast though—the success rate for 2021 applications was a measly 28%, meaning you’ll likely have to apply multiple times to get a shot at this one. But if you’re a peak bagger, or if you’re just looking for an epic adventure, this one’s definitely worth applying for. The lottery for Mount Whitney runs from February 1 to March 15, so mark your calendar!     6. Float Hell’s Canyon, the Salmon River, or the Selway River You’ve only got a few days left to put in for these sought-after river floats as well as a few others. The last day to enter the lottery for the 2022 season is February 1st, so you’ll have to make a quick decision. Still, these rivers offer some of the best of the west when it comes to scenic and technical paddle trips. And don’t worry: If this isn’t your year, you can always plan for 2023. For a full list of upcoming lotteries, click here.     7. Hike the Half Dome Cable Route, Yosemite National Park 16 miles with 4,800 feet of gain is nothing to take lightly, but reaching the summit of the Half Dome in Yosemite is definitely a once in a lifetime kind of experience. Hikers have been using this cable route since 1919, and it remains one of the most popular destinations for outdoor enthusiasts today. If this sounds like your kind of adventure, know that the preseason lottery runs during the month of March with more daily lotteries to come in May. The cable route opens in late May depending on conditions and is open through October 11. Make your plans and find more info here.     8. Paddle the Devils River, West Texas Of all the adventures on this list, aside from the Lost Maples trip perhaps, this one might be the most achievable. Why, you ask? The Devils River lies in barren west Texas, completely remote and relatively unknown in comparison to the national park giants listed above. Lucky for you, it’s one of the best kept secrets in Texas. The Devils River is a 94-mile, spring-fed river considered by many experts to be the most pristine river remaining in Texas. To help keep it that way, Texas Parks and Wildlife limits the number of visitors to the river, and especially the number of paddlers given river access permits. TPWD recommends planning your trips for spring and fall to avoid extreme temps. A quick Google image search of the river will tell you everything you need to know about why you should put this on your list, and why if you go you should be extra diligent with your Leave No Trace principles (as always). Want to learn where the Devils River got its name? Check this out from the Devils River Conservancy, and while you’re on their website, read about why this river is so important to protect.   For those of you ready for a winter adventure, check out our Guide to Hammock Camping in Cold Weather.

A recent survey found that more than half of adults spend five hours or less in nature each week. Competing priorities and access to the outdoors were the leading reasons to explain this decline in outdoor experiences. We get it. Spending time outside is low on most people’s to-do list, especially in our digital age.  In line with our mission to elevate time outside, we want to offer the Kammok community different ways to enjoy and experience time outside. We took a look at seven daily activities our team takes part in, no matter how crazy the week, and asked how we might move those from indoor to outdoor. Take your calls on a walk-and-talk basis Having to listen in on calls for work? Head to the nearest green space for a walk and talk. It’s an easy way to get moving and spend time outside during the work week. Bonus: take your lunch break outside, too.  Commute to work by foot, bike or bus Walking to work or even walking to the bus station drastically reduces your carbon footprint, and allows you to spend more time outside. Try one of these options for your commute at least once a week, if you can. Move wind-down activities - reading, yoga, meditating - outside Nature provides the best environment for restorative experiences, allowing you to de-stress even if only for a few minutes each day. Ditch the gym, head for the greenbelt Free and open to everyone, greenbelts and walking trails can provide an alternative to running and working out in the gym. Try a picnic for date night For next week’s date night, switch it up with a charcuterie board and a bottle of wine at a local park or vista. Spending time outside, among other benefits, has shown to improve prosocial behaviors and connectivity among people. Swap a tv series with a podcast, and listen in your hammock We might be biased, but Dirtbag Diaries is our favorite podcast this year. Hang your hammock, close your eyes, and listen uninterrupted.  Turn weekend getaways into escapes outdoors Typically more affordable than hotels or airbnbs, campsites and cabins at local state and national parks are an alternate way to spend the weekend. Try HipCamp for even more options on private lands. Among the benefits to spending more time outside are better health, reduced stress, and improved relational and social skills.