“You’re wearin’ flip flops?” the fellow hiker I had just passed asked incredulously. “I don’t know about that. I got my hiking boots on.” I stopped momentarily to attempt to illustrate the finer points of my footwear of choice, but I’m pretty sure that all she noticed was my feet, dirty, scabbed (one slow-to-heal longboarding injury of which I am very proud), and calloused from an entire summer of exposure. I instead muttered something about durability and support and made my way up the rocky path to the top of Snow King, overlooking Jackson, WY. I often have to remind myself that it isn’t always my job to sell my shoes to strangers.

 Once I had reached the summit of the mountain, — which doesn’t really feel like a mountain because it’s smack dab in the middle of town (”if this were in the east they’d have built houses on top of it long ago,” I thought to myself), and not very tall in comparison to its brethren jutting up everywhere in the landscape – I opted to take the leisurely chairlift ride down. As I boarded the platform and handed the summer liftie my dollar, he looked at my haggard feet and commented, “Flip flops! Ouch!”

“Actually, they’re fine…”

“Ouch! Flip flops! Here’s your chair,” and before I had a chance to explain that my feet were feeling great, thankyouverymuch, I was being whisked down the hill. Which is when I had time to contemplate my future bumpersticker — “If it can’t be done in flip-flops, it’s not worth doing.”

 Anyway, I’m not sure where this rant is going. It’s a roundabout way of praising the Chaco Flip and its superiority. They have been my most indispensable piece of warm-weather gear I own by far. My tireless fleet of Whisperlite stoves comes in second, and the (sadly, no longer in production) Dana Designs Nuk Tuk tent third. I am sold forever on pyramid-shaped tents — get yourself one immediately. I should know, I’ve been spending the summer in Teton Valley minding my post as Gear Girl for a certain outdoor guiding school. I’ve been working a whole heckuva lot and fantasizing daily about the coming ski season, which can pretty much sum up the summer activities of all my peers here as well, judging from most conversations I’ve had recently. I’ve got two weeks left here, after which I’m going to make my way through Colorado, back down to New Mexico, and hop a train bound for Detroit. Then, a few months later, I’ll make that same trip in reverse.

 The rivers ran high in early summer, but once all the snowmelt dispersed, we had quite the dry summer. Lately the sky has been hazy with smoke from surrounding fires. I was willing to forsake water here, though, knowing that New Mexico was getting more than its share of precipitation. Mother Nature seems to have it figured out, after all. Did we ever doubt her?

 Well, that’s enough rambling for one evening, I think. I’m going to get me to bed, I’ve got a big day of ordering gear tomorrow.

 kristy

wild mountain alumnus at large

    Nimrod has arrived on the scene to take the place of our dear lost Elrod. We have wired Nimrod to thwart any abduction attempt by the evil doers. The Santa fe Police continue to investigate clues in the disappearance of Elrod.

    We welcome Jeff Calaski to the staff at Wild Mountain. Jeff brings experience from the outdoor world and is the leading force behind Wild Mountain’s soon to be launched newsletters.

  Click on Bo’s picture and hear Rio’s new video masterpiece.