At one point, my ex-husband could tell you how many miles he had put on his hiking boots. I don’t know if this is still the case, since once the ink was dry, I said see-ya. I, on the other hand, can tell you my hiking boots have seen Oregon, Washington, Idaho, Alaska, British Columbia, Hawaii, Mississippi, Tennessee, Missouri, Illinois, and prob a few more I’m not recalling at the moment.
The first backpacking trip I went on with ex, I am convinced, to this very day, was a test. He was adamant to the end it wasn’t. It was a 3 day backpacking trip in the Columbia River Gorge, up hill both ways. We camped among beautiful wild flowers, with Mt Adams in our view. Each day my feet hurt a little more and each time it got a little harder to put my boots back on. He kept saying “it can’t be that bad”. I kept saying something’s not right. The day after we got home the bruise showed up, in the coming weeks, my pinky toenail turned black. Over-share, I know. It never fell off, but it took awhile for me to put the boots back on. The ex listened to me a little closer the next time I told him a hike didn’t feel quite right. My toes know.
Don’t blame the boots. It’s really not their fault. I tried many boots before I settled on these and these boots were made for walking. Thank goodness for REI’s liberal return policy because I lost track of how many I returned. The issue is I am a delicate tenderfoot. Long gone are the toes that spent years walking on gravel and dirt, long days in soccer shoes, and cowboy boots. I now have the delicate toes of a woman, best spent in flip flops, running shoes, or barefoot on plush carpet.
Be assured, an amazing weekend was had! I’ve got pictures and stories to sort. Some of the most incredible music, great people watching, and sights like no other. But my next stop will be a pedicure for some pampering and much needed foot rubbing.