The Life and Death of A Hiking Boot

Last week I wrote about packing for a night away. More specifically, I wrote about going on a two day walk along the Kiama Coast. The most important things to take were my hiking boots. Only hiking boots can keep you comfortable, upright and dry. Well worn, travelled and loved hiking boots are the best. And such are mine.

My hiking boots joined me in 2009 when my fifteen-year old son was boarding in Kangaroo Valley NSW. This is a school campus that teaches outdoor survival skills and at one point, a parent is required to join their son on a two-day hike. The point is – to survive! Hence the boots. They worked hard and I survived! They loved their first adventure, despite the rain, and a close bond was formed between boot and wearer.

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They carried me with empathy and support across many Australian landscapes: beaches and bush in the Bay of Fires, craggy rocks and seal colonies on Kangaroo Island, tracks across Orpheus Island, snow and mud tracks along the Thredbo River, farmland in Goulburn, cliffs and bush trails from Shellharbour to Eden on the NSW South Coast, and most memorably, up and down rocky ridges, through desert grasses and along dry, sandy  river beds on the Larapinta Trail in Central Australia.

Day 13 Glaciar Perito Moreno (42)

Overseas, they trekked over frozen ground in Patagonia, keeping my feet warm on windswept farms and glacial waterways. They helped me breathe at high altitude by keeping me stable and comfortable in the dry, arid Atacama Desert in Chile.

Day 37 Atacama desert (27)

And then on a simple walk through the hills and along the cliff, halfway between Kiama and Gerringong, one boot started flapping like a thong beneath my heel. We’d covered some uneven, muddy and grassy ground, leapt over a rivulet, then there it was. Flap, flap. I looked to see what was stuck to my heel, but alas, it was an unstuck sole. A bandage from the First Aid Kit could only slow its leaking lifeblood, and by Werri Beach, my soul had become unstuck!

Kiama Coast Walk Oct18 (34)

I was ceremoniously carried across the last rivulet so as to keep the boot dry. But we had reached the end of the journey. We had travelled so far. The boots had been in shoe-hospital once already. It was time to let them go. I undid the bandage and the sturdy laces, peeled them off my feet and kissed them both goodbye. Then I unceremoniously dropped them in the bin! Despite this callousness, I will always remember them with love and gratitude. RIP boots.

Spoilt for Choice

Tomorrow, I’m going on a trip to Kiama. Not for a week. Not even a long weekend. But for one night. I’m looking forward to it. I’m doing a two day walk with my walking group and we’re staying over-night, which should be fun.

But what’s not fun, is packing for it. It seems to me that you go to just as much trouble for one night as five. And the weather causes a quandary as to what to take. It’s Spring and the weather varies from warm and muggy to windy and cold. And thunderstorms are predicted one day and sunshine the next.

So, do I take long pants or shorts? Heavy raincoat or light? Runners for day 2 in case my hiking boots get sodden? Two caps? Obviously two shirts and a fleece.

But do I also take a comfy trackie to change into after my hot shower? Slippers?

And we’re going out to dinner, so there’s a full outfit, with shoes, and a wrap, because I can’t tell if it will be warm like last night or cold enough for a fire, like the night before!

The toiletries bag always overwhelms me. I try to find little containers to put shampoo and conditioner in. And face cream. And there’s the deo and sunblock and individual sheets of paracetamol and ibuprofen for all those aches and pains that come from hiking. And Bandaids.

I’ll need PJs but what about a gown? Pillow? Will I need swimmers and a towel?

My favourite tea is essential. But what about a teapot? Many places don’t cater for leaf drinkers any more. What about breakfast: cereal, sourdough, Vegemite?

And then there’s the necessary sustainers-of-life in the day-pack: water bottles, thermos, lunch, snacks, camera, hypothermia blanket (is that going too far?), emergency taxi money.

What if the weather is so foul that we don’t feel like hiking? Do I take a book, iPad? Kitchen sink?

At this point, I’m exhausted! But when I think about this, and stop moaning for a minute, I realise how blessed I am that I have all this choice. I have all these things! And I have the luxury of living in a country where going away for a couple of days is normal and easy and safe. It’s a holiday, an event unavailable in too many countries where there are no choices.

Australia. What a marvellous country it is. And how fortunate am I?

 

https://kiama.com.au/kiama-coast-walk

Mountain Devils

Who’s read Wild, by Cheryl Strayed? It starts with a young woman hiking in the wilds of California – the Pacific Crest Trail. She’s young, inexperienced and she’s sitting on a high rock rubbing her feet, looking into the vast forest below. And then one of her boots rolls off!

I just spent the weekend with my mother in the Blue Mountains. Nothing catastrophic or even challenging happened. But the rim of the Megalong Valley and Grose Valley offer similar views to those Cheryl experienced: the tall, sheer sandstone cliffs, the carved, immense space and thick woodland as far as the eye can see. To stand and look is to be in awe. The imagination wanders far back in time, long before aboriginals were the only tourists here. I could imagine dinosaurs rustling through the trees below, as if it was grass. I could see them flying through the air, much closer than aeroplanes that now dot the high sky.

Getting away from the main lookouts is essential to feel the enormity of what is. Govetts Leap and Evans Lookout are great but there are quieter ones, like off the Fairfax Heritage Walking Track. Mum and I walked several tracks, carefully reading the track descriptions first, and found ourselves admiring Spring wattles, grass trees and scribbly gums, enormous termite mounds and tranquil pools. We were wearing our hiking boots and we got a lot of exercise, but we didn’t try anything as strenuous as what that madly wild Cheryl did.

Which brings me to the other sensory pleasures of our weekend: eating and sleeping. Leura is full of great restaurants and cafes that provide modern, fresh cuisine that looks pretty and tastes good. However, the highlight of our weekend getaway was staying at the Hydro Majestic in Medlow Bath. This grand old, white building is full of history – and it’s all fun! Built, mostly, back in 1903, it’s been renovated with a new take on it’s first owner’s dream.

But for mum and me, it’s nostalgic because we stayed there when I was about seven and eight. I remember running up Cat’s Alley, the long sloping corridor with arched views over the Megalong Valley. I remember the relief work on the huge oil heaters that lined the walls, the stage on which guests and professionals got to perform, and the little dolls made out of pipe-cleaners, tulle and mountain devil pods. Of course, they were called Mountain Devils and I loved them dearly.

Our weekend away in the Blue Mountains ticked all the boxes: fresh air, nature, scenery, comfort and a little bit of sentimentality. It’s suitable for tame bush-walkers and wild, adventurous types as well. I’d highly recommend it. Have any of you been there?

https://www.visitnsw.com/destinations/blue-mountains/katoomba-area/accommodation/hydro-majestic-hotel-blue-mountains

https://www.nationalparks.nsw.gov.au/things-to-do/walking-tracks/fairfax-heritage-walking-track