Boots

Also the nickname of one of the guys on work crew, who dresses the part of Walker Texas Ranger. His big black boots purportedly can be seen from miles away.

The story of my boots is one of anger, heartbreak, pain, and a little ridicule on the side (this added more for the atheistic value than for any real flavor). Since the story is long, none too interesting, and more of a gripe than anything, you are free to return to whatever social networking site you were previously at.





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I knew you would be back! Alright, from the top!

Around the beginning of April, I received an email from the Conservation department (the dept. I work for) that there was a Pro-Deal with Zamberlan for all Cons employees!! Yippee! Zamberlan is a smaller producer of boots, but they are renown for their superior construction, long lifetime, and all around snazzy design. The Pro-Deal cut the price of these boots by half, allowing me, the poor student/beggar/small time crook and street peddler, to afford them. The only catch (there is always a catch, right?) is that the boots had to be delivered to Philmont. And, I was like, whatever! I'll have plenty of time to break them in before I go out on a trek, or some nonsense like that!

Ahem, fast forward to Philmont. When I arrive, I of course check the mail room for any packages, and, seeing none, proceed to bide my time. I trust in the system. They surely must have gotten my faxed form and are just a little delayed in sending my boots. A week passes. At this point in the story, I am about to head out on a week long hands-on training session. In running shoes. 'Cause the boots have not arrived. El screwed? Yes, yes indeed. I frantically begin my calls. I call at least once a day. I send emails. I ask, plead, beg for help and am met with neutral voices and neutral words.

The customer service guy repeats to me that they do not have me in the system. The package, of course, has never been sent because it never needed to exist. He says that he can't help me with the Pro-Deal because that is the job of another office. He gives me a number, tells me to have a nice day, and I hang up, call the other office (this information, by the by, has taken over a week to wrest from them). There is only the calm, pleased voice of an answering machine. And, yet again I am stalemated. I have less than two days until I am strapping on an 80 pound pack and heading out into the wilderness to prepare camps for pukes and nature expressways.

At the random behest of a fellow Cons worker, we drive to Santa Fe. While feasting my eyes on the beauty and intricacy of this Southwestern city, I notice an REI, supplier of all things backpacking. Rows upon rows of boots sit on their walls, and I hear the singing of angels in the background. As it turns out, it was just music on the radio, but it definitely fit the mood. In a fit of madness, I give Zamberlan one for chance. After four or five times of calling the Pro-Deal office and receiving no answer, a friendly Italian accented voice finally responded to my pleas.

The boot I had previously ordered, the Steep, was not available for Pro-Deals due to its incredible popularity. He instead suggested the Zamberlan Civetta, worn by UN troops and Australian Special Forces. So, I left the heavenly walls of REI, and faxed in a new form. The boots, I was assured, would be there in three or so days. Problem. There was nowhere near enough time for them to be there before I headed out. Problem solved. A buddy was kind enough to let me borrow his boots for a few days. Problem. They were about a half size too small and kinda cheap.

The trek was scheduled to last 8.5 days, and I figured that we were doing low miles. My feet should be able to cope I foolishly told myself. Alas, after only three days of heavy hiking with a heavy pack my feet had dissolved into a mass of blisters, sores, and friction burns. I was unable to continue. Those borrowed boots had rubbed my skin raw and left my feet soaked. On the fourth day, my foreman decided to pull me off the run and send me back to base. So, I had been screwed.

While the doctor said my feet should recover quickly, I was still stuck on base, doing menial labor for the Cons department. Nothing too bad, just scrubbing dirty cable, rehandling shovels, and reorganizing signs. But, as I hobbled around, I cursed my predicament, and Zamberlan in particular for letting it happen. But then, as if by magic, the boots appeared. And all was forgiven.

The Zamberlan Civetta is an extremely comfortable boot that looks as if it may last me the majority of my twenties. Thats saying a lot, seeing as I plan to beat em up this summer, and then in all those future travels that one does while one is still comparatively young. Still got to break it in, but I have not had any problems yet. Fingers crossed it stays that way.