In Defense of the Mommy Hiking Sandals

As many of you may be aware, I recently went on a hike that left me . . . Wanting. Wanting better hiking shoes, a less dusty trail, more shade, less weight on my feet, and fewer years under my belt. And definitely fewer bees and Bionic Blind Women. (See "Today I Became An Old Woman" if you are either confused or intrigued. Or both.) It could have been very easy to blame the whole situation on my footwear, but the truth of the matter is that I could have been wearing custom-made trekkers from Ecco and it wouldn't have made a lick of difference. That trail kicked my trash.

Yet, I still feel I owe it to my awesome and super comfortable hiking sandals (yes, HIKING, even though they do have a teensy-weensy bit of heel to them) to demonstrate how adequate they are for the casual hike (a REAL casual hike, not the trail of torture the last hike proved to be). And so I proudly donned them as we set out to hike up Diamond Head.

For those of you unfamiliar with this hike, here are the spec's: it is a 1.6 mile loop, with a 560 foot elevation gain. In real words, this hike goes straight up hill for almost a mile then straight back down, via switchbacks ala Lombard Street. So it's short, but it's kind of a killer. There are about 374 steps to climb over two stretches. I am not making that up. (But I am using creative liberty.) And it's Hawaii, with no shade, but a decent breeze. So, hot and muggy, but some decent air movement.

Here's how it went down. I. Did. Not. Quit. Ta-Da!! Did my son and his friends stop a couple times to make sure I hadn't fallen off the hillside? Sure. Was I sweating like I'd sprung a leak through every square inch of my skin? You betcha. Did more than one (read: FOUR) hiker in a row look at me with concern and assure me I was "almost there!"? Indeed they did. But I made it! And guess what? So did my sandals. Thus I repeat, TA-DA!!

They did a great job. Portions of this hike are, in fact, paved. But most of it is not. Most of it is the rock hillside, carved or blasted or simply worn down, formed into a trail of sorts. It is anything but level and there are loose rocks everywhere. And my sandals handled all of it. Even the wretched staircases that went on forever. I mean really, how hard would it have been to add a couple "viewing platforms," even without any actual view to, um, view? It's not like I'm asking for an elevator, sheesh.

Yep, totally happy with my Mommy Hiking Sandals. And we have no need to mention the dozens of tiny little Japanese women who also hiked it successfully in every sort of non-hiking footwear including zipper-back gladiator sandals, strappy kitten heels, fur-lined bedroom slippers, or 3" bedazzled wedges while wearing a georgette dress and carrying a parasol. (You think I'm kidding. I have pictures.) Me and my sandals made it and that's all that matters.

(But seriously, I'd be willing to be you could get to the top of Mount Friggin' Everest and be all ready to pat yourself on the back for accomplishing one of the most challenging efforts humankind can make and there would be a pack of little Japanese women up at the top, in their kitten heels and sparkly flip flops, smiling and waving and wondering what all the fuss was about. Those women can do anything. And accessorize at the same time. Bring a brownie, dang it.)