Limmer Boots

My mother once said if you can count your true friends on one hand you live a very fortunate life. On about finger number two of my second hand I count my Limmer boots (the previous six spots are occupied by people) and so, I am indeed blessed. Over a span of twenty six years they have served me through thick and thin on hiking adventures in all conditions in every mountain range of the continental United States. Every time I slip my feet into them and lace them up they feel just right, snug and good. It’s a funny thing to consider inanimate objects as friends, but in this case it’s as close a description as any of my feeling toward these boots.

Yesterday R and I went on a short hike in the Sangre de Cristo Mountains to enjoy the brief and intense display of fall foliage. Entire slopes of the mountains forested in aspen are ablaze in yellow. Every hike with R is special; like me she loves to be in the mountains and comes into a natural peacefulness and stride on the trail. This hike was particularly special in that it was the first wearing her new Limmers. R has never before had a pair of boots like these.

She literally sprinted up the steep slope into the aspens. Gone was the fatigue from boots with thin soles transferring uneven surfaces into the feet. Saved was the energy spent anticipating twists and slips coming down hill in boots with little support and grip.

Taking a moment now to think of other objects as friends, there are only a couple which come to mind – a Sabatier kitchen knife, a Starrett carpenter’s square, each have been with me for the better part of thirty years – and like the Limmers their value lies in the commitment to craft made by their makers. This is immediately apparent handling these objects, and they are as much a pleasure in use today as when new… perhaps even more so.

It was a treat to watch R yesterday as she experienced the dimension a fine pair of boots adds to hiking. It appears she and her Limmers are going to be friends, for many years I hope.

Gordon Bunker