Walasi-Yi
Georgia
July 2015
In my time, I have heard wonderful stories, useful gimmicks, legends and lies while on the trail. Told a few myself. I learned that butter will keep for days without refrigeration. I learned that some baby girls are born with three nipples. I learned that one of the best tasting foods in the world is fish that was pulled out of the water no more than twenty minutes ago. I learned that, if you must, you can drink your own pee, sort of.
Please go to Can You Drink Your Own Pee? I at https://www.asiwentwalking.com/2024/04/02/can-you-drink-your-own-pee-i/
Also go to Can You Drink Your Own Pee? II at https://www.asiwentwalking.com/2024/04/02/can-you-drink-your-own-pee-ii/
I learned that there is a boot museum. Seems that if you have logged half a thousand miles or more on the Appalachian Trail, the museum will accept your boots as one of their artifacts. Well, two of their artifacts. Boots come in pairs.
In the spring of 2006, I wrote a letter to the alleged boot museum. “Is this thing real?” I asked. “Yep it’s real.”
I explained that I didn’t actually have a pair of boots that met the requirement, but I did have three pairs that have thousands of miles on them on many trails, and if you add it up, they also have easily carried me 500 miles on that particular fabled footpath, the Appalachian Trail. “Will you accept these boots in your museum?”
I received a return letter from Winton Porter, the owner of Mountain Crossings, a store on the Appalachian Trail, first confirming that indeed, Mountain Crossings did have a boot museum. And second, to my query, he replied, “Absolutely. Send them in. They will be displayed proudly for many, many years.” Then he signed his note, “Create a great day.”
Well, Winton, you just created a great day for me.
As instructed, I scribbled my autograph on my boots — Sole Philosopher — and shipped them off to the store in Georgia with a note telling him that I would stop in someday to visit them.
Eight years later, Lisa says to me, “You have a Pennsylvania Department of Natural Resources trail sign in your backyard. You have 2×6 blazes nailed to the wall that lead up the stairs to your office on the third floor. You keep a log of the miles you’ve hiked every day. You even have boots in a museum! Isn’t it time we visited the Mountain Crossings Hall of Fame?”
Why yes, it is. Let’s go visit my old friends, my boots.
But first, before we go, another telephone call, just to make sure…
“Mountain Crossings. This is Ryan.”
“Hi Ryan. I’ve got a question for you and either I’m going to nail it or you’re gonna think I’m a total wacko. Do you have a boot museum?”
“Yup. We sure do.”
“I sent you my boots eight years ago. Do you think they could still be there?”
“They sure could be.”
Now ain’t that a breath of fresh air!
Random conversation…
“What did you do on your vacation?”
“I went to a museum to visit my boots.”
“What?”
When you think about it, of all the places one could vacation, doesn’t visiting your boots sound… dumb? I mean, really dumb?
Other people have said that I am smart. I never said that.
Ironically, when we summited Georgia by climbing Brasstown Bald three years ago, we didn’t realize we were only a dozen miles from my boots as the crow flies, or 15.8 miles as the crow drives. No word on how far if the crow hikes.
Lisa and I make this second trip to the excellent mountains of north Georgia, to see my boots. We first stop in Atlanta to visit my brother.
Many years ago, he and I backpacked the Cohutta Wilderness, not far from Mountain Crossings. I remember two things from that outing.
https://www.asiwentwalking.com/2024/03/09/brother-time/
You’ve met my boots in the photo where they are lined up, as if posing for the prom. Behold the Boot Museum.
