My Boots

taken from a Fastwrite, June 7th

I’m made of full grain leather with the toughest vibram soles. Draped in gore-tex and stitched together in Romania. As a young boot I was stored on the top shelf, as all size 13’s are stored on the top shelf, of the Adventure’s Edge backroom in Morgantown, West Virginia. It was a normal day, like any other day, spent discussing the meaning of life with that cute little silica packet stuck inside my left foot. When suddenly I was pulled from the top shelf and brought out into the shoe department. “I’ve always worn Asolo boots”, I could hear him say. “But my last pair is just falling apart, I tried to have the leather shop on High Street mend them for me, but that half grain leather just doesn’t last… anyway, I read in backpacking magazine these are the best boots to buy this season?”. “Sure are”, Jan the shop owner, responded. As I was removed from the packaging and laced up I could see a humongous man sitting at the bench, waiting to try me on. After pulling up his thick wool hiking socks, he carefully slipped his right then left foot inside me. Gently lacing each boot up before taking our first steps together around the carpeted aisle of the camping gear section. “Wow, these feel great”, he said. I could tell from the way his high arched feet and narrow toe box fit, we were a perfect match.

I would come to call him Sam, and for the next several years we spent many days hiking around the hills of West Virginia. Dolly Sods, New River Gorge, Shenandoah and Blue Ridge Mountains, Seneca Rocks, and Cranberry Glades were just a few of our favorite places together. Never once did he make me walk the congested, noisy, teeming streets of a concrete city. I made a nest for myself in the back of his closet spending the days dreaming of our next adventure. On a couple special occasions I got to explore the Rocky Mountains of Colorado and dusty deserts of Utah and New Mexico, before returning to my safe home in West Virginia. Then, to my surprise, I was thrown into a duffel one day and spent countless hours heading North. When I was finally removed from my temporary home and placed on the feet of my faithful master something had changed. The air felt crisper and cleaner, the ground felt foreign, but friendlier. Where was I? “A-l-a-s-k-a”! I could hear Gretchen say, his most recent and frequent trail companion. Alaska? I think I’m going to like Alaska, I thought to myself. And for the last five years we’ve spent our time fording icy rivers, climbing the steepest peaks, and sliding across slippery glaciers.