Schleping To Homer

One day after buying rubber boots for the wet and muddy conditions around here I decided to traipse from my mountain retreat to the bucolic town of Homer-by-the sea. I did not depart like Zarathustra, full of a light he wished to share with the world. Neither did I bound like a dog to whom after five seconds all scents, and sights are new, some say the first cynic was like that. No, instead I walked the way I always do, similar to a tourist surveying a new land while I carry a backpack of my previous places. I see the world with old eyes and the flowers are colored with the remembrance of the thousand flowers I saw before that is how I went down-going..

I went agoing like any other portly, middleaged man, who walks through a foot of mud for ten miles because he enjoys it. Maybe the picture below will you give an idea why.



After walking ten miles in my Neoprene Xtratufs I got onto a asphalted road and I saw this view. Some low lying clouds were around the cliff, the slight breeze was pushing them out to sea. In the distance I could see one of the many glaciers that are around here. Hopefully before winter I will be able to reach out and touch the head of the glacier and examine a crevasse. By the time I took this picture my feet, ankles, and hamstrings were quite sore. I sincerely hope gentle reader you never have to walk fourteen miles in my neoprene boots. Firstly because I am uncomfortable with lending out such intimate apparel as footware, secondly because it is very uncomfortable. Now I wonder why someone does not design Wellingtons with better support, I do not think the fishermen who stand in them for hours find them gentle on the feet either. Anyway I think the experience was worth the pain since I got to write about the pain of walking for miles with rainboots and take a nice picture. In the end Katya had to get me since I walked two miles away from town and my feet hurt too much to walk the five or six miles to her work.