Skywalker--Highs and Lows on the Pacific Crest Trail by Bill Walker

weight from one leg to another.
    “Well,” she asked sheepishly, “what does everybody want me to do—look at his feet?” Ron, Dana, and Bettina nodded gravely. When I started taking off my shoes the waiter saw what was going on and rushed up.
    “Sir, could you please do this away from all our other guests?” he asked. Renee and I dutifully went to an empty table where I put my feet up on the table cloth. But that had the waiter rushing over again pleading, “Please, please, keep your feet off the table.”
    “They look a little better,” Renee said quietly. “Keep soaking them and airing them out.” She again sounded defensive. It was pretty clear there were two people in Idyllwild that were very worried about my feet. But for very different reasons.
    We walked back to the table, where I sat down and Renee remained standing. But Bettina, who was not feeling the least bit of pain by this point, wasn’t going to let Renee’s long day end.
    “You don’t belong in Idyllwild,” she loudly said to Renee. Renee froze, which allowed Bettina to sucker-punch her some more.
    “You’ve been fired,” Bettina continued, “from at least two health clinics I know in Long Beach and Santa Barbara.” Ron and Dana were listening to this in disbelief. We all wanted to crawl under the table. Finally, Renee struck back.
    “I haven’t got to take this,” she fired at the whole table.
    She turned to me, “You’re going around telling all the hikers I screwed your feet up.” I didn’t offer any protest because her charge was true. I had been.
    “People on the Appalachian Trail start off hiking nine miles a day and work themselves in. But here everybody starts trying to do twenty miles a day from the beginning. Then they all get to Idyllwild and come to my office wondering why their feet are all screwed up.”
    She continued, “I don’t care what you tell the hikers. But I don’t want some drunk lady spreading lies here in Idyllwild that hurt my reputation.” She then turned to reprimand her friends Ron and Dana. “Please don’t be giving out my phone number to any more drunks.” More silence from our table.
    “I’ve gotta’ work tomorrow,” she said to herself, as much as any of us. With that she turned and off she went. The entire restaurant had gone silent over the whole drama.
    The whole thing reminded me a little bit of Captain Queeg in The Caine Mutiny. He had started off looking like a nutty character in charge of the ship. But as the extent of his challenges became more clear, he began to look a little more sympathetic (In fact, a few months after I was in Idyllwild, Renee was fired. That same week her daughter hung herself from a tree outside town).

     
    I became desperate to get out of Idyllwild. My feet were slowly getting better. But it would have been suicidal to go out in the desert and try hiking on them just yet. I started hitchhiking into town every morning. There I would hang out on a shaded bench in front of the post office and let my feet air out.
    Meanwhile, I had new pairs of shoes coming in from all over the country. I would pick up a pair practically every morning at the post office. But none of them seemed suitable for desert hiking, and I sent them all back. Repeatedly, I checked the REI website to see if Vasque had any size 15’s. Forget it. What in the world am I going to do?
    Several people had counseled me to just take my Vasque 14’s and cut the front out of them to allow my feet some breathing room. Many hikers performed such surgery on their shoes, and I was tentatively planning to do it myself. Then, I idly typed in Vasque Size 15 into the Google search box. I couldn’t believe my eyes. Right there a list of Vasque Size 15’s came up, including the exact brand I wanted, from Dick’s Sporting Goods. I had them over-nighted to Idyllwild and my shoe problems for the next 2,500 miles were now solved. But what an excruciating price I had paid for my lack of due diligence.
    The