The Adventures We’ve Had

Contributors: Amanda Reynolds

I love being outside in the sun, rain, wind, and elements. I love hanging out with my guys, stumbling along through the brush, bugs, and mud. But I am still a girl. I still like pretty things.

I still love my shoes.

They help take me places I never thought I would go. They give me confidence to climb, jump, and, in some cases, swim. They carry me through my office day job in comfort and style. They make me pay closer attention to my posture, weight distribution, balance, and…well…I love them.

Growing up as a girl who wanted to be both a Disney princess and Annie Oakley, I struggled with my love of shoes. I wanted them to be pretty and sparkly and delicate. But I also wanted to fearlessly plant my feet in the dirt, stomp through puddles, climb over rocks, swing into a saddle, and trek down a canyon.

The struggle was real.

I also had a difficult relationship with shoes because as a little girl I was assigned to wear orthopedic insoles to help correct my flat-footedness and inward-leaning-heels. I don’t know if you’re familiar with orthopedic insoles, but the ones I had basically made it impossible to wear any kind of shoe that was pretty and dainty and delicate. As a 10 year old who still-kind-of-deep-down-secretly-really-wanted to be a Disney princess, that was disappointing.

I’m glad Annie Oakley came to the rescue with her slip-on cowboy boots. She told me not to worry, and that I could still be pretty in a pair of plain, smooth-soled Justin slip-on’s. I also didn’t have to worry about getting them dirty or scuffed because they were easy to clean and take care of…unlike my golden-buckled Princess Bell shoes.

Princess & Adventurer, Oregon

I could be pretty, but I could also be strong.  I’ve teetered on the balance between these two worlds ever since.

After High School my most essential and favorite pair of shoes quickly became my hiking boots. I had to set aside my Justin slip-on’s from hiking when I found out that smooth-soles aren’t exactly ideal when climbing over granite boulders. My scuffed up palms, knees, and bruised shins were a lesson well-learned.

Since my first pair of grippy-soled hiking boots, I’ve been warm, stable, and dry. I have the confidence to go on adventures I would be hesitant to go on otherwise. Their sturdy rubber soles and leather uppers protecting my toes, so if I kick a rock or trip over a branch, my feet (if nothing else) will be safe to pick me up again.

Klamath National Forest, California

I’ve had several pairs of hiking boots throughout the years, but this last pair has been special. They’ve carried me through two moves, most of the states on the west coast, Canada (Alberta), Alaska, and everywhere from the beaches of California to the high mountain lakes of Montana. They’ve carried me through every kind of weather and every kind of terrain: in deserts, mountains, beaches, and cities.

And now after 4.5 years of adventures, it’s time for this pair of boots to retire.

Their last trip into the wild left them heavy with water from snow and marsh, loose at the laces from climbing and bracing, and smooth from years of sliding over rock, dirt, and sand. My toes no longer snugly and securely tucked away under the leather, but rather loose, blistered, and bruised.

As I limped back to the trail head from our last trek up the mountain, all I could think of was taking them off. It was both a sad and relieving moment when I sat down at our Jeep. The worn leather uppers were soft from sweat and sun. The soles were frayed, and the traction had been worn smooth-to-the-touch.

Alpine Creek Trail, Sawtooth National Forest, Idaho

With a heavy sigh and tired fingers, I unwrapped the laces from their metal loops and gingerly slid my wool-socked foot out of their worn embrace.