The Quest for Happy Feet

When I agreed to go on a 3-week walk­ing tour in France this fall, I assumed my beloved Lowa boots would join me on that jour­ney. We’ve been together for many miles over the past 15 years…

But all it took was one long walk on wood­land trails and paved roads to reveal that these aging boots would be prob­lem­atic on the Chemin du Puy.

For one thing there’s not enough cush­ion­ing for rocky trails or paved roads. For another, they are too heavy for a jour­ney where every ounce counts dearly…

And so the quest for boots began — a quest that took weeks and many shop­ping trips (or online trans­ac­tions) to accom­plish.

Finding the Right Boots Isn’t Easy

Luck­ily, I’m in an all-women’s Face­book group with other pil­grims — past, present and future. Besides shar­ing travel plans, we talk about what to pack or what to wear.

We share can­did ques­tions and per­sonal obser­va­tions about the gear that will work best for trekking the Camino. We dis­cuss every­thing, from sports bras to footwear, hik­ing socks, fold­able trekking poles, packs, etc.

Every­one agrees: the sin­gle most impor­tant deci­sion is what to wear on your feet.

We debate what’s the best footwear strat­egy: sturdy ver­sus light­weight hik­ing boots; hik­ing shoes ver­sus trail run­ning shoes; sneak­ers ver­sus hik­ing san­dals. For those not fac­ing moun­tain cross­ings, the con­sen­sus is: don’t bother car­ry­ing your heavy hik­ing boots. If you’ll spend all your time hik­ing on paved roads, boots are overkill.

And of course, we all agree that what’s best for your feet depends on many things: your age, weight, fit­ness; the size, shape and con­di­tions of your feet (such as high arches, flat feet or vul­ner­a­bil­i­ties like plan­tar fasci­tis, bunions, arthri­tis, injuries, etc.). Some peo­ple pre­fer lots of cush­ion­ing, oth­ers want to feel the road.

Given those phys­i­cal char­ac­ter­is­tics you then have to fac­tor in your expec­ta­tions of the ter­rain, the dis­tance to hike each day, changes in ele­va­tion, and the degree of tech­ni­cal chal­lenge.  We learn from Face­book posts what to expect about spe­cific con­di­tions in France or Spain, for the locales or trails where we’ll be trekking.

For these rea­sons we care a lot about details, like how many ounces each shoe or boot weighs — things that aren’t always easy to dis­cover from the man­u­fac­tur­ers’ breezy sales pitches… For those of us who will walk 100–500 miles to train before­hand, we also worry about dura­bil­ity. Will our boots be worn out before we get on the plane? Once I’ve found the right boots, should I buy a sec­ond pair to bring to Europe to replace the worn-out train­ing pair?

These are not ques­tions for fash­ion­istas…

It Takes Many Trials

To my sur­prise it’s not uncom­mon for future pil­grims to try a dozen pairs of boots and shoes before set­tling on the ones that work best for them. Some have posted pho­tos on Face­book show­ing 4–5 boxes of shoes and boots they’ve ordered to try out.

Despite the dili­gent shop­ping and pre-Camino tri­als, some Cami­gas report back that they’ve given away their boots by the end of the first week. They will hike the rest of the Way in sneak­ers or san­dals, to avoid the pain of ill-fit­ting boots.

I found this obses­sive try-buy behav­ior hard to believe, until I began my own quest to find light, com­fort­able hik­ing boots. Firstly, there’s lit­tle rela­tion­ship between the size of your street shoes ver­sus the siz­ing used for boots or trail run­ners. This means that online shop­pers have to antic­i­pate lots of exchanges…

I’ve lost count exactly, but it’s taken me at least 6 tries (includ­ing 3 trips to REI plus a local shoe store) before set­tling on Hoka One One Tor Sum­mit Mid WP boots. Luck­ily, they were on sale at REI when I noticed how many Cami­gas were writ­ing good things about Hoka boots… Time will tell if this was the right choice.

We’ll be walk­ing the Célé Vari­ant of the Chemin du Puy (GR 65 and GR 651). Pil­grims tell us to expect stren­u­ous con­di­tions when hik­ing up and down the Célé Valley’s lime­stone cliffs or uneven, rocky trails.

Here in the Pacific North­west, in early spring, it’s hard to find train­ing con­di­tions like the dry, stony hills and crum­bling lime­stone cliffs we’ll face in France. Right now I’m focused on build­ing up endurance and over­all con­di­tion­ing, rather than repli­cat­ing the ter­rain.

I’ll need some train­ing on loose scree and rocky hill­climbs before we fly to Paris, but for­tu­nately, there’s all sum­mer to get ready.

For now, early prac­tice hikes sug­gest these boots will be quite com­fort­able, with some caveats…

Good Enough, but Not Perfect

After 25 miles in them so far, it’s clear that my new boots aren’t per­fect for the trek in France. Their water­proof­ing makes them less breath­able than what I’d hoped for, so my feet get hot by mile 5 —  and we’ll be hik­ing at least twice that mileage each day. I’ll also be hik­ing in much warmer weather.

Mes­sage to self: Learn how to man­age heat dis­si­pa­tion and avoid blis­ters. Step one: buy Glide. Check.

Even with thick hik­ing socks from Darn Tough, these boots are a bit too big, so my feet slip for­ward on steep descents but not enough to jam the toes. I haven’t yet tried the liner-plus-sock com­bi­na­tion as a way of avoid­ing blis­ters from an overly roomy boot, but it’s on the list of things to try. I did try this model in half size smaller, and liked the over­all foot com­fort, but found that the top of the boots cinched my ankles too tightly. Except for the ankle issue they’d be good boots to wear with thin­ner, lighter socks.

By the time I leave for France, I’ll have fig­ured out how to make my boots as com­fort­able as pos­si­ble, via:

• The right lac­ing tech­niques to min­i­mize slip­page and max­i­mize com­fort;
• The opti­mal com­bi­na­tion of socks and lin­ers;
• How and where to apply Glide before putting on my socks.

My feet will swell after hik­ing all day, for 21 days in a row, so the fact that these boots are now 1/4 to 1/2 size too large will be most likely be a bless­ing on “les voies jacquaires” in France (camino hik­ing trails.)

For now I remind myself that this is a jour­ney of many lessons and dis­cov­er­ies — with many expe­ri­ences yet to unfold before we leave for France. Find­ing the right boots is an impor­tant mile­stone on the jour­ney.

Update

90 days later…

It’s mid-July and my love affair with Hoka boots con­tin­ues, now that I’ve found the opti­mal lac­ing and sock com­bos through trial-and-error.

I’m grate­ful for the way they pro­tect my toes and ankles from unex­pected encoun­ters with roots or rocks on uneven trails, the way they keep my feet dry in tor­ren­tial down­pours or unavoid­able pud­dles.

Unlike tra­di­tional hik­ing boots, these are so light­weight, lux­u­ri­ously cush­ioned and flex­i­ble under foot. My enthu­si­asm about these boots has inspired my friends too. Now almost half a dozen of us are hik­ing reg­u­larly with Hoka boots or trail run­ners…

Trail runners: happy compromise

That being said, as much as I love my Hoka boots, on hot days they become a bit too warm after ≥ 3 hours of hik­ing. If my feet get too hot and the socks get damp, there’s a risk of blis­ter­ing. This has spurred me to find alter­na­tive footwear for hot days or less rugged ter­rain.

For­tu­nately, I’ve found the right trail run­ners to alter­nate with the boots: some Altra Olym­pus shoes with a wide toe box. This model is well cush­ioned, pro­tects toes from encoun­ters with roots or rocks, and breathes well. The wide toe box offers lots of breath­ing room so toes can flex or splay out — and it avoids the risk of blis­ters that can crop up when my bunion gets too cramped.

So I’m now a happy camper, well equipped for almost any­thing the French trails are likely to present.