In retrospect they probably had plenty of life left in them on my own feet. But last season I picked up a new pair of wading boots, and had recently begun feeling like a selfish bastard for having three pairs in the closet. So I gave this fine fly fishing footwear to a pal of mine who really needed some studded soles.
I would have tossed them on Craigslist at the $0 price, but they bring back old memories so I wanted to keep them in the family. They’ve done at least a dozen trips to the San Juan, more than twice that in Wyoming and Idaho, and literally hundreds of excursions across Colorado and Utah. They spent so much time getting wet, and then laying in riverside sun or near campfire warmth, that the uppers cracked behind the big toe. The thought of bitching at Simms never crossed my mind – these boots have to be a decade old, so I more than got my money’s worth out of them. No, at first I applied duct tape (the universal patch), and finally laid globs of Aqua-Seal across the wounds. No problems since.
They’re moving on to greener pastures, even if the guy who’s feet will be in them needs a little help with his roll cast.
Then again, don’t we all?