I have to admit it: I really wouldn’t mind if I didn’t see any more mud for a while. And just in case the weather gods are tuning in and would like to know, ‘How long is a while?’ let’s say, not this side of next autumn.
We’ve been ploughing through the mire, or picking out pathways around it, week after week, since around September. Every time I go for a hike I come home covered in the stuff. Then, as I take off my boots, I find I’m wrestling with my conscience all over again.
These hanwag boots cost me £220 (or roughly $300), and I’ve been really pleased with them. They’ve served me well over the past three or four years. They’ve climbed mountains, yomped across moorland, navigated shallow rivers, and are on familiar terms with all kinds of mud. But look at them: don’t they strike you as just a little weary? I know I am.
Every time we get back from a hike I tell myself I should scrub them clean, gouge the slime away from the soles, wash the uppers with water, and apply a fresh layer of protection. (Nikwax is the product of choice here in the UK) On the other hand… what is the point? Tomorrow I’ll be out again and they’ll be lathered in the stuff – and if we’re up in the hill country I dare say there will be a liberal dose of sheep shit mixed in with it.
We did have a few days’ respite recently, in the form of a good hard frost. I was, briefly, grateful. I celebrated by treating my crampons to a rare outing. I bought them in Taos, New Mexico, in February 2015. The best $45 I had spent in a long time. But then, Taos in the winter is a far cry from Durham. It looks a little like this
Or this…
And we did, last winter, have a taste of similar conditions alongside Loch Shiel.
Of course, the picture doesn’t tell the full story. Do they ever? What it shows is the one authentically wintry day of the 28 we spent there. The other 27? Rainy, every one of them. And muddy.
Well, there will be better days. And the ground will dry up. I’ve lived long enough to know that. It’s just that, right now, it’s hard to imagine.
