Life in Boots

In order to fully appreciate all that life in rural Alaska has to offer, it is essential to have the proper footwear. Boots, people, are one of the keys to happiness here. Whether it's muck boots, warm winter boots, or wellies, the right pair can make or break an experience. Ice cleats are of the utmost importance for the slickest days.

So, imagine my dismay when all of our snow melted this past week and we returned to mud and puddles everywhere. It was 41 degrees last Friday, and, unfortunately, my Bogs have holes in them. This has meant some wet feet now and then, but I don't mind. In fact, it seems to bother others more than me. We're back to the mid-20s, but still snow is nowhere to be found.

Marshall students, here for a volleyball tournament a few weeks ago, said, "So NATIVE you are!" when they saw that I'd put duck tape over the holes. (Don't judge; one of my favorite coaches instilled in me the importance of duck tape. Or is it duct tape? I never can remember.) My friends encouraged me to get new ones, and I brushed it off, saying that winter was almost here and once it snowed, I wouldn't need muck boots until April!

The sad part is that I was in Anchorage for the majority of the month of November. You'd think I would find the time to go purchase some decent rain or muck boots. Nope!

Oops. Joke's on me! Here we are, December 10th, and here's what I've got in my mud room...

My trusty bogs. They're not as tall as they should be, but they've served
me well. At this point, a friend has volunteered to gorilla glue them for me.
Yes!

My Kamiks, recommended by a student who knows my clumsiness and that
I'm hard on shoes. So warm and comfy. Way too warm for the current weather! 

The ice cleats. No, it's not quite wise to have white cleats up here, but hey,
they're easy to put on and take off, and they've lasted two whole winters!
The $13 were totally worth it. May they last three winters more!

I remember ordering those cleats a couple years ago; the company called to make sure I lived where I did before they sent them because they didn't trust my partially made-up address.

We got to chatting, and he asks, "Hey, I'm sure it's a long shot, but I have a friend named Mary teaching up there somewhere...that's not near you, is it?"

My response? "Actually, yes, it's where I am, and I know Mary, too - she's my roommate!"

The poor guy didn't believe me until I put Mary on the phone. This would be the first of many occurrences proving that Alaska is just one big small town, and a reason I love it here. If you talk to someone long enough, you're almost sure to find a connection.

Coming back from the school the other day, I ran into these two fellows running their toy snow-go's through the puddles. I love how they make their own fun, and it reminded me of the trouble my brothers, neighborhood friends and I often found ourselves in making mud pies and pots and insisting that they be treasured inside the house as well, having 'who can kill the most box elder bugs with his hands' contests, playing in the flooded ditches, playing night games...ah, the memories!

Just over two weeks until Christmas...here's hoping I'm in snow boots by then!

Cheers!