New Boots

Boone, NC

Four miles outside West Jefferson with my new right boot off for the forth time, or is it the fifth? I begin to hate the words,' boot sale'. 30% off on new hiking boots. I could feel the tar through the soles of my vasques in route to hobo holes. "Sold," says the debit card. My size twelves have become thirteen's. My roots are getting bigger. Maybe I shopped too fast to get to the mountains for live blue grass on a Saturday night. New leather boots are just that, new. New boots are a religion of their own. There are alot of beliefs, from soaking in a shower to beating them in a bag. Breaking in a new pair of hiking boots with seventy pounds of gear and trail food on the back is praying to frogs though. Your skin will change.....feet first.
My left foot is all smiles. "Where are we going? Where are we going? I think I always wanted to go hiking." My right foot is screaming in a tongue I don't believe that I know, but I get the point. All of them.
My right foot is dancing arounds bites and stabs from arch to heal, and back. Down an embankment I spy a piece of closed cell white foam. With a knife in hand I go hunting for a bit of solace to place in the devils mouth. Over moleskin I place a square of foam I've cut to order. In an hour I have taught it to stay exactly where I want it in the boot's heal...sort of.
It is three p.m. Twelve miles to go into the back mountains that are all arch and heal. I'll be singing my own blues to grass by a creek with a foot happily drowning in the ice water tonight.
I think of eating a handful of coffee beans to get me over the next hill. It is more placebo than a fix. Besides, I'm all out of dark chocolate. Dark in an hour. Eight miles to go. Bad boot. Bad. It is getting dark. I can no longer walk straight.

Nothing this side of sin feels as good as taking off an angry new boot knowing that for today the dog can rest. Sitting in the door of my tent I sloooooooly pull off the high top leather as if the new band-aid will take flesh. Cold air rushes in to cool the coals. I was more than a little concerned that air was the last of the trinity nessary to create instant flames. Holding my foot in a hands cradle, red wing blackbirds sing beside me songs that move all the heat from my feet. Spring is coming, and I have pretty new boots. It's a great evening for twig tea by a nameless creek.
In two or three days both feet will be smiling. At least until I tell them the little trip I have planned.