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For the last five years, Hadley Hammer has been fighting to stay above water. Only now, looking back, can she admit how intense the last half-decade has been.
In April 2019, Hammer’s then partner, professional alpinist David Lama, died in an avalanche. A month later, Sam Coffey, an ex-boyfriend, died unexpectedly from a series of strokes. Soon after, her dad was diagnosed with a rare form of cancer. She then moved to Europe, tore her ACL, went through strict pandemic lockdowns, and just as she was rebounding, her dad passed away. Two months later, her close friend and mentor, Hilaree Nelson, died in an avalanche in Nepal.
“I’ve been trying to keep my ski career going,” says Hammer, “while figuring out what it all meant.”
It’s fair to say that Hammer, 38, has experienced more loss than most humans will in a lifetime. “An average person’s life goes through these periods.” Hammer says. “You meet the love of your life, get married, have kids, watch your parents get old and die. All of that happened to me in five years. I would surface briefly and get pulled back down. I never admitted how hard it was, or I would have lost it. Only now, with the help of therapists, friends, and writing, can I look back at it all.”
This season, Hammer, a professional big mountain skier, is optimistic that skiing will be joyful again. “When I think of my happy times, it’s in the backyard with my brothers, skiing off the roof, stealing construction equipment to build rails, jumping off everything. I want the sport to be a refuge of play. I want it to be about exploration and fun.”
Growing up in Jackson, Wyoming, Hammer’s earliest memories are about exploration. The vast landscapes of the Western US call for it, she says. “You can see for miles. It gives you a sense of endless exploration and the realization of how small you are. The Tetons aren’t the biggest range, but they are almost empty, so you feel alone against those granite walls. That’s braided into who I am.”
Jackson, now one of the wealthiest small towns in the US, has changed considerably in the three decades since her childhood. In the 1990s it was a mix of ranchers and ski bums, with a small and tight-knit community who worked together to thrive in a cold, windy, and harsh climate. “We were all in it together. Every parent took care of every kid,” says Hammer, “and the mountains were our playground.”
With supportive parents and two athletic brothers, Hammer learned how to find her limits early. “We’re not a traditional family,” says Hammer. “My mom doesn’t cook and we didn’t sit down to eat, but my parents were always there for us.” After learning to ski at two-years-old, Hammer grew up chasing her brothers around Jackson Hole Mountain Resort, a bonafide mecca of skiing.
After graduating college, Hammer entered the Freeride World Tour and after struggling initially, eventually made a name for herself. In 2013, Hammer landed a sponsorship with The North Face, which has taken her around the world to ski high peaks in Bolivia, Argentina, Alaska, and Norway. In 2016, she landed her first segment in a major ski film, launching her onto the biggest stage. But, the high didn’t last long.
That July, Matilda Rapaport, a fellow big mountain skier, died in an avalanche. Quiet, kind, and smart, Rapaport and Hammer had similar personalities, so the news hit hard. Hammer’s grief would come and go, foreshadowing the years to come. Four years later in 2020, after Lama passed, Hammer moved to Innsbruck, Austria, to be closer to his friends and family.
“I needed to reorientate myself to the world,” Hammer says. “It was the perfect place to do that. European life is more gentle than American life. Society is slower.” The change of pace and sense of newness gave Hammer a fresh start. In 2022, she took an opportunity to move to Chamonix, France, the birthplace of big mountain skiing, continuing her career in the mountains and kicking off a new film project.
Big mountain skiing, however, requires a singular, almost obsessive focus. “Winter is short, so you always have to be focused on training, performing, and filming, which doesn’t leave much time for the fun aspects of the sport,” says Hammer, who hopes to approach things differently this season.
“Skiing at its purest is one of the few ways to play as an adult,” says Hammer. “So much of life is work and taxes, so it’s important to find moments of play.” After five years of feeling underwater with grief, Hammer plans to prioritize lightness this winter. Powder days with friends, soulful tours in the backcountry, and meeting new skiers beyond hard-charging professionals are high on her list of goals.
That’s not to say the sadness and grief from her past are completely gone. “The wounds never leave, but you can grieve and still be happy,” says Hammer. “Grief makes your lows much lower and your highs much higher.” Hammer’s life has been defined by a rollercoaster of highs and lows, which she has learned to accept, instead of trying to control. “If you try to control the mess, it simply doesn’t work.”
In many ways, Hammer has the mountains to blame – and to thank – for these lessons. “When you’re trying to climb a mountain, you can’t move the tree or go through a rock, even if it is in the most obvious way up. You have to work with those obstacles, not plow through them,” she says. “That’s what I’m doing with my life. Grief doesn’t bend. People talk about going through it, but it doesn’t work like that. You have to work with it, work around it, and move with it to find a path through it.”
This winter Hammer hopes to balance high adrenaline descents with playful powder turns. “Right now I’m just happy to see what lands on my plate and what doesn’t. I’m not forcing anything. I’m just keeping my eyes open to see what is in front of me. Whatever comes is a gift and you have to take those gifts.”
