these boots

One thing I did realize while I was in Peru is that if I'm wearing my hiking boots, I'm feeling vibrant and alive! This is true whether I'm wrangling seals, hiking in a forest, exploring a beach with my kids, or even mowing my lawn. I think a simple way to add balance to my life is to try to wear my boots as often as I can.


It got me thinking about where these boots and I have been together. I bought these boots in 1993, right before Michael and I went back-packing around Europe for 5 months. We'd just graduated from university and we went everywhere. This is not a paid ad for Vasque, but it should be as these boots have lasted 14 years and counting and they're still just as good as when I bought them. OK, so I've gone through a couple of pairs of laces, and the grommets are getting rusty (walking in guano dirt will do that!). But I love them, even though nowadays they sometimes get usurped by my Blunnies (which I love so much I went to Australia to get).

These boots have taken me around the world a few times. I dug up some photos and had a stroll down memory lane.

These boots in the Swiss Alps. We were hiking with Francis, Susanne and Digg on a glorious March day. Later, Susanne's Mum made us the best fondue I've ever tasted.


These boots in front of the swanky marina in Nice. To be fair, after walking around the French Riviera in my big ol' North American hikin' boots for a week or so, I broke down and bought a little pair of black Audrey Hepburn pumps for around town. Because, you know, the baggy Alaska sweater and the stretch pants wouldn't also be a dead give-away that I'm not from these parts.


These boots at Macchu Picchu. Tanya and I survived the Train Ride of Chickens and Floods to get to Aguas Calientes the night before, and got up to the site early to scale Huayna Picchu (in the background) before exploring the ruins. That hike bloody near killed us, and afterwards we learned that the vestal virgins apparently did it daily before breakfast. Without hiking boots.



These boots at Harlequin Lake, Alaska, where the glacier dumps big chunks of ice into the lake that float about and die gracefully on the shore like anorexic swans. Here Shawn and I had the unforgettable Encounter With Grizzly That Transformed At Last Minute into Juvenile Moose and scared the crap out of us either way.


These boots in front of Ben Nevis in Scotland - we had planned to climb Ben Nevis that day but the weather packed in and we didn't have any crampons or ice picks to complete the ascent. But we were quite content to sit on top of a peak (I think it's Meall an t-Suidhe) right next to the UK's highest. It was March and it was as cold as it looks. Kaje took the photo. And led the way. And made the sandwiches. But we bought the beer later.



These boots at The Falls - my favorite spot in the state of Washington, with my sisters and 3-week-old Liam. In this photo lives a part of my soul.


These boots in a kauri forest in New Zealand with my honey (and his boots!). Of all the photos I dug up in my quest for boot pix, this is my favorite.

I wonder where these boots will take me next? Or perhaps more importantly, where do I want them to take me?