Who Those Feet?

Cherish (I'll refrain from referring to her by an appellation I prefer) has asked in a comment to the last post about those janky feet, so I figure the explanation deserves a post of its own.

These feet belong to a woman affectionately called "Hobbit" who was one of us four who walked Wainwright's Coast to Coast in England together. This photo was taken at the end of our penultimate hiking day, a day whose path goes along an old mineral railway for miles; the black minerals make you filthy, and Hobbit's feet show that well. (The photo here shows another view of the path; what you can't see here is the back of my legs getting a horrible sunburn that same day.)

Because her boots blistered her feet horribly, Hobbit had abandoned them well before the ghost of that railway dirtied us. As I recall, she ended up walking almost the last 50 miles in those flip flops.

But no matter how proper your boots, the minerals crept between all your toes. Just before entering the idyllic Grosmont where we planned to eat dinner, we crossed a creek, pulled out our sandals, and washed our feet in the running stream. Good thing we did, because the pub turned out rather fancy; we were nevertheless grateful that they let us eat outside, something many places did not allow.

So, I'm proud of those janky feet, Cherish! Might have been even prouder if they were my own. . . .