It probably sounds funny to say I love my hiking boots, but I do. When I look at them, put them on…they’re full of memories, all tangled up with being away in some beautiful place, the freedom they represent when I pack them into my suitcase and the knowledge that soon I’ll be away somewhere that smells of green, hiking on a trail I had never before seen. They’re heavy, but so comfortable, even though it sometimes takes me ten minutes to get on sock liners and socks and shove my feet into the boots and lace up.
I began hiking long distances in 1996, starting along the English coast, and learned how important a good boot is.
In 2012, I bought Lowa hightops for a hike in Ireland, and wore them on hikes until 2015 when I hiked with a friend in Washington, at Palouse Falls, a dramatic and rocky landscape that looked nicely challenging.
I’d been told the Lowas were some of the most comfortable long-lasting hiking boots…that sounded good to me!
But halfway through the hike, I heard a “flap, flap” as I walked. As I bent down to check the source of the noise, I heard another more sinister sound which made the hair on the back of my neck stand up: the unmistakable rattle of a rather large rattlesnake sunning himself in the middle of the trail.
I stopped short, tripped and almost came nose to nose with the rattler…who providentially for me, slithered off into the scree.
Now turning my attention to the aforementioned flapping noise, I discovered the sole of one boot was hanging by a thread! And a little later, there went the other sole – so I sat down a la Cheryl Strayed and peeled off both soles keeping a grip on the boots (didn’t want them to fall off a cliff). Although I was now soleless, could I keep going? Luckily, a liner in each boot was thick enough to protect my feet and I was able to finish the hike.
Was this unusual? Well, it was for me…but they’d had a good life and plenty of great hikes, so with respect, I boxed them up, recycled them, and promptly bought another pair.
Carpe diem 