Boot kaboom

On a recent trek in India's northern state of Uttarakhand, my trusty boots of eight years exploded. There's really no other word for it. Exploded.

Even without the bootie incident, this was a "no joke" hike. We ascended from 5,100 feet to 10,400 feet and descended in the same day. (That's roughly equivalent to climbing up and down the stairs of 3.5 Sears Towers stacked end-to-end.) My city-boy legs were sore for almost a week.

Of the group of 7 hikers, 3 of us pushed to the summit. The final 1,000 feet of the mountain were more insane than challenging. We were scaling rocks free-hand. At the top, we stood together and said a prayer that we wouldn't die during our descent.

After having made it down the steepest part, the thick rubber heels of my boots fell off. Literally separated from the leather of the boot. I don't know if it was the moist Himalayan air. Or just years of wear and tear. Or the rigor of that day's hike. Luckily, my friend had brought a First Aid kit and doctored them with some duct tape. Meanwhile, I tried my best to tread lightly. Then at ~9,000 feet, my foot popped through bottom of my left boot. It was essentially shrapnel. Unsalvageable.

Time to be resourceful. I had brought my favorite red fleece with me. The only option was to throw the boot in my backpack and to wrap the fleece around my foot. So I descended the remaining 4,000 feet of a jagged Himilayan mountainside with a fleece wrapped around my foot. Only in India.

A friend stops on our way up the mountain to admire the view.

Taking a rest at ~9,000 feet.

The final ~1,000 feet of our ascent.

My boots. Can you believe the boot on the left is the one that "survived?"

Post-trek. A bucket of dirty water from washing my fleece.

My cleaned fleece. Just like new!