Enough Boots

Another cold grey day today.  Yesterday was glorious and sunny, but that was then.  The situation today is snow on the ground, clear sidewalks, and the path through the woods so icy you could skate on it.  What to put on my feet?  As I surveyed my choices this morning, I decided I might not have enough boots.

     It turns out I was right.  At least in comparison with the friends and relations I’ve consulted.  Carol, for instance, has 13 pairs of boots.  Six pairs are for staying warm in cold weather: 1 pair with Yaktrax, 1 pair padded black, 1 pair camel, 1 pair khaki-green with hunter plaid, 1 pair brown suede, and 1 pair of slip-ons.  The other 7 pairs are for hiking, hunting, slogging, wading, fishing, gardening, and photography.  Boots may change category over time–tired hiking boots may become gardening boots, for instance—and a given pair of boots may serve multiple functions.

     “Basically, we don’t throw boots out,” Carol told me.  The next day she called to say, with some embarrassment, that she was ordering another pair.*

     Paul has 16 pairs, and uses every one of them.  He has a pair that go up to his knees and are insulated, dry, and warm, for walking properties and hunting.  He has hiking boots.  Work boots for around the yard.  Hip boots for putting the boat in.  And no fewer than 4 pairs of wading boots and waders for fly fishing.  Some boots are insulated, some are not.  Some ankle boots, some tall ones.  Most are old friends.  “We don’t throw boots out,” he agreed.

     Don has so many pairs of boots that I lost count somewhere in the mid-20s.  Three pairs of Keen hiking boots that he rotates through, some leather lace-ups for farm work, 2 pairs of Burleigh/Muck boots for around the farm and hunting–he calls those the Crocs of the boot world.  Another couple pairs each of hiking boots and insulated Sorels for hunting and snowmobiling.  A couple pairs of LaCrosse boots, which he likes for hunting because they’re scentless, “So the deer you’re tracking can’t sniff your footprints and track you.”  He also has Mickey Mouse boots, two layers of black seamless rubber with wool insulation between.  Apparently, they are popularly thought to look like Mickey Mouse.

     “What about riding boots?” I asked. 

     “I don’t ride anymore,” this owner of a horse farm answered.  “I can’t afford to get hurt.”

     “You still wear cowboy boots, though, right?”

      “Oh, bleep!” he laughed.  “Cowboy boots.  Let’s see, six pairs of dress boots:  Burnt orange alligator cockroach killers** with 8-inch toes.  Python.  Black with silver tips.  Brown.  Brown lace-ups. And gray.  Then there are the regular ones I wear to places like horse shows:  gray, black, and brown.  I only own one pair of dress shoes.  Everything else is boots.

     “Oh, and I have three pairs in the UP.  Marsh boots.  It’s wet up there.”

     Don’s father, another Don, also discussed boots.  His list started with 2 pairs of cowboy boots.  “I used to have 8,” he said, “but I’m older now and not so agile.”  He has a pair of Muck boots, which he likes because “they’re easy to put on when you’re hurting.”  They’re good for snowshoeing. 

     He has 3 pairs of hunting boots, for different weather conditions and ground conditions.  He has leather snow pacs with felt packs inside.  And he has hip waders and chest waders, some at home and some in the UP.  “You need those for trap lines,”*** he explains.   

     Finally, he says, “I have a pair of old-fashioned 5-buckle boots.  Black.  Galoshes, they’re called.  They must be 40 years old.  I have another pair, too, with a zipper.  Also black.  From the State of Michigan back when I was a state trooper.  They didn’t want them back.  They don’t use them anymore.”  So Don kept them, because we don’t throw boots out.

     I felt better about wishing for another pair of boots after these discussions with collectors, but until the weather changes, I think I’ll just stay out of the woods.  Or change into skates when I get there.

*Carol called a week later to say her net gain of boot pairs was zero, as one of her Muck boots had given up its sole, which meant the end of the pair.  “They mate for life, you know,” she said, “right and left—and the right one has left.”  She still holds out hope for the lost sole, though, with the right glue.  We don’t throw boots out.   

**“With toes like that, you can reach all the way into the corners to get ’em.”

***I’m thinking his son Don forgot to mention his waders; he traps, too.

22 January 2021