Meet Legendary SoCal Goat Packer, Trail Runner and Outdoor Lover, Sam Seidenberg

We caught up with Sam as he prepared for a goat-packing hike into The Sespe Wilderness, near the remote Californian town of Cuyama. It was mighty hot that day.


You grew up in the Bay Area and were big into skating, which is a very urban-based sport. How did you discover your deep attraction to and affinity for nature and the great outdoors?
I would say I’ve always been attracted to navigation and the vast unknown. Early on, the "vast unknown" for me was San Francisco; it felt like a huge, foreign jungle coming from Napa/Sonoma. I wanted to know everything about it—every back street, every bus route, and BART line. I liked the old New Yorker idea of priding yourself on really knowing the city, like a taxi driver or something. I was never an inside kid, always outside 24/7. I’ve always camped and loved exploring the bluffs and tide pools along the Northern California coast. But my true obsession with and appreciation for the outdoors came as a result of living in cities for too long!


I know you are a big runner. How did you get into running? Do you think you are/were running away from something or running toward something?
I got into running by getting into trouble as a teen. I was placed in a program called "Impact" at the Napa State Hospital, where we were made to run and do army drills at 5 a.m. every morning before high school. I really loved it and excelled at it. It changed me, so I guess the program worked in that sense, and it's something I never stopped doing. I felt I had to do it, though I didn’t understand why until later. My mom lived by some trails on the outskirts of Napa, and I’d run those almost daily, especially at night. I think I was running away from something or running against something. My friends and I were deep into partying at the time, and running put something wild and primal back into me. It was a high, but natural. I’ve been sober for six years now, and I still chase that same natural high daily. I’ve got to get my rocks off somehow.


You now live in Cuyama, a very remote part of California near Los Padres National Forest (aka Santa Barbara Backcountry). How did you discover this beautiful, remote, and little-known corner of California? What attracts you to the environment?
One of my best friends moved to Cuyama, and I came out to visit him. We took a long backpacking trip through the Sespe Wilderness. I couldn’t believe it was California. I’d come straight from Oakland on Amtrak—the contrast was stark. The idea that there are over a million square acres of this amazing backcountry to explore really struck me. I love everything about it: the heat, the hidden water, the rugged, unforgiving terrain, the sandstone, the rattlesnakes, the unmaintained trails, the bear tracks in the desert. This landscape is harsh, and to the untrained eye, it might appear barren, but I see how much life it holds. Anything in California could survive here, but only the fittest and most intuitive do. It’s a wild place in every sense. It’s pure California wilderness; it’s old California. The Cuyama Valley holds the most precious, sacred, beautiful and challenging aspects of the Los Padres, but also my life. If you had told me years ago that I’d be living in Cuyama with the woman I love and the two girls we’re raising, I wouldn’t have recognized the person in our Christmas cards!  This valley has made more of an imprint on me than any place I've ever been. We have everything we could ever need,  more than I thought I could or would ever have.


"It’s a symbiotic relationship that few hikers get to experience. It’s a beautiful feeling, and whoever hikes with us becomes part of the herd."


You currently run hiking trips accompanied by your three trained pack goats, who transport your guests’ gear in and out. Most folks have no clue about goat packing. Please explain—and how did you get into it?
I heard about pack goats after moving to Cuyama from some local deer hunters and got a bit obsessed. Pack animals change the game in the wilderness, but I can’t afford to keep horses. Through magnetism and Cuyama, I met Mike Smith, a famous local goat packer. He packed goats for the forest service, working trails for 20 years! He became a good friend and mentor. One day, he called me out of the blue and told me he wanted to give me some of his best goats—I was shocked. So I rearranged things in my life so I could properly house and care for the animals, and we made it happen.

Goats pack like any other animal, with pack saddles and panniers, but they carry less weight (60 pounds). They also require much less attention than a horse or mule. They’re extremely efficient and live entirely off the land like wild animals when on pack trips. They eat chaparral and drink from creeks, springs, and seeps. They come on every guided hike with me—not only as companions and entertainment (they’re the stars of the show), but I work for them, and they work for me. It’s a symbiotic relationship that few hikers get to experience. It’s a beautiful feeling, and whoever hikes with us becomes part of the herd.


I know you are a keen wildlife spotter and tracker. Have you had any crazy experiences out in the remote backcountry?
We have so many lions and bears in Cuyama. I’ve been stalked by a juvenile black bear, hissed at by bobcats, and rattled at by countless rattlesnakes. Hawks have dive-bombed a foot away from my face to pick a quail out of the brush. I’ve been feet away from the buck I was hunting, with both of us bedded down in hiding, not knowing the other was there—only to stand up and look each other in the eyes before he darted off into obscurity. The number of mountain lions I’ve walked right by? I’ll never know. They’re more interesting and mysterious than most humans. They live very complex lives out here, and only the smartest and toughest survive.


"Cuyama will turn you into beef jerky if you don’t take care of your skin."


Cuyama is very dry, exposed, and hot in the summer and can also be harsh in winter. How do you ensure your skin is adequately protected and nurtured?
Utu sunscreen, of course (lol), and good clothes. Dress like you’re going on vacation to Saudi Arabia. The importance of taking care of your skin in a place like this can’t be underestimated. Even in the dead of winter at 48 degrees, the sun is hot and powerful here. Combined with the dryness and very hard groundwater we use to bathe, it’s important to stay moisturized and protected. Cuyama will turn you into beef jerky if you don’t take care of your skin.


If you could trek anywhere in the world with your goats, where would it be and why?
Believe it or not, the places I want to explore the most aren’t too far away: the Gila National Forest in New Mexico, the Coconino in Northern Arizona, lots of Eastern Oregon, and the Olympic National Forest in Washington. I guess I’m a desert rat, but those ferns and Douglas firs start calling me mid-summer. If we’re talking bucket list, Mount Roraima at the junction of Venezuela, Brazil, and Guyana is at the top of my list. Of course, other parts of the Amazon as well. Maybe the goats and I could traverse the Darien Gap! Hahaha...


Tell us about that crazy motorbike you own!
The Rokon is one of the only American-made 2x2 off-road motorcycles, with both wheels powered by chains and tires bigger than most quad tires. It’s my other backcountry tool—the mechanical kind. It’ll get you anywhere the rider is capable of taking it. It’ll float down rivers and tear through snow. It’s a heritage brand that’s been lovingly handcrafted in New England since the 1950s. It’s a badass bike, but if speed is what you’re after, look elsewhere. It’s a workhorse. It never fails and gets you where you need to go, no matter the conditions. And it can tow 1,000 pounds! The USFS even uses them as log skidders in the Northwest. There’s only one dealer in California, and it happens to be in Lake Isabella, which isn’t too far from Cuyama!


Follow Sam and his goats @cuyamarambler

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