the smallest room in the house
July 1998
I can’t tell you how many boots I have owned. I know it’s an even number. It’s the same number of boots I have worn out. It’s a fairly large number.
But wait. Take this number and add four boots, the two pair I always have at the ready, broken in, by the front door.
It’s a thrill to wear out boots. They carry the memories of miles upon miles in extraordinary locations, both peaceful and invigorating. The more worn they are, the more memories they hold.
How do you know when it’s time to retire your kickers? When they look hard-loved. When they look hard-loved, and…
when, y’know, there’s no amount of duct tape that can keep them from falling off your feet… That would be a good time to replace them. When you can visually count your toes without taking off your boots… That too would be a good time. When you know, by the smell, how long your feet have been inside these boots… This would be a really good time.
Or when they leak. I had one particular pair of boots that I suspected of this crime. After a day of hiking in the mud and the rain, taking off my boots revealed that my socks were wet. Not sweat wet but wet wet. This could be a sign, but I wasn’t sure if the boots had worn-through material or if the water had just splashed over the tops.
It’s… Time for The Boot Test.
I ran the water in my bathtub up to about two and a half inches. I put on a pair of hiking socks and my suspect boots. I climbed into the tub and stood there for half an hour. This would tell me for sure the condition and fate of my hiking boots.
Picture this. I am standing in two and a half inches of water in my tub, wearing red wool socks and the suspect boots. My socks were very red, a very bright red. I would never wear them outside the house.
I am wearing these red socks and my possibly leaky boots, and nothing else. That’s what I’m wearing. Socks and boots. I’m reading a map. Half an hour. You may not want to picture this.
Now get out of my bathroom.