Me and my boots

When I wear my boots I feel as though I could walk on forever.  Their sturdy weight makes me feel as though I have an almost magnetic attraction to the ground.  I feel rooted to the earth with boots on my feet.  And yet they don't feel heavy, and I don't drag my feet; when I lace them on I just want to set off on a long hike and never come home.  That combination of solidity and energy that they give off is a pleasing contradiction.

I've only ever owned two pairs of walking boots.  The first pair I bought when I went to University.  They took me on treks along the Norfolk coastline and then they travelled to whole other contintents - America, Australia and Asia.  I walked up mountains and along beaches in them.  They went with me to New Orleans, Singapore, Toronto and Cairns.  They finally fell apart on a long, boggy walk in North Yorkshire.

In Queensland, Australia - 1995

My second pair are more sturdy and rigid than the first, which I prefer.  They are made by Gelert and I bought them at an outdoor shop in Snowdonia about seven years ago.  These ones have not been to quite such exotic locations, but have still served me very well on the cliffs of Pembrokeshire, on the Thames foreshore, all over Yorkshire and Cumbria, up the Swiss Alps and across France.  I'd love it if Gelert had made them with a built in pedometer so I could see how far I'd walked in them over the years.

In Tarn-et-Garonne, France - 2011

My feet are trained to know what to do when I lace on my boots: put a flask of coffee in my bag, grab a map and go.  Walk.  And keep on walking.