have to offer to take him on this hike, helping him get background material for his novel.
"All right, getting back to your clothes," Doug continued. "Let's take a look at your boots." He knelt in front of Bob. "Did you know that every mile you walk, each foot hits the ground almost two thousand times?"
"No. Jesus." Bob was impressed.
"And each foot has twenty-six functional bones," Doug continued.
"No kidding," Bob said. "How do you know all this stuff?"
"I can read too," Doug said.
What the hell does that mean? Bob wondered.
"All right, they're leather, that's good. You never buy plastic."
Plastic? Bob reacted. Who in the hell would buy plastic shoes for hiking?
Doug was running his hands over Bob's boots. "Light-weight, that's good," he said. "You won't need heavyweight boots for a hike this short. Ankle-high, good. Padded ankle collar." He grimaced a little. "Well . . . nylon uppers don't need any break-in, but—"
"What?" Bob asked.
"I prefer leather uppers, they last longer, have more resistance." He stood up, grunting. "No matter. Yours'll be fine. You told the salesman to give you an extra half inch of toe room, didn't you?"
"No." Bob frowned. "You never told me that."
"I must have forgotten," Doug said. "It's nothing fatal. Although it does help to have that extra half inch when you're doing steep downhill hiking. You did wear a pair of thick socks when you were trying them on, didn't you?"
"Yep." Bob nodded, trying not to sound bored, which he was getting.
"Water seal the boots?" Doug asked.
"Yes."
"Cut your toenails?"
"What?" Bob laughed at the question.
"Not a joke," Doug said. "You're going to be doing a lot of walking. Overlong toenails can cause problems."
"Oh, Jesus." Bob made a face. "Well, I don't think they're too long."
"We'll check 'em later," Doug said. "I have a clipper in case you need it."
Bob repressed a sigh but not enough. Doug looked at him with mild accusation. "Bob," he said, "I'm not talking just to hear the sound of my voice. I've been backpacking for years. Everything I'm telling you is pertinent."
"All right, all right, I'm sorry again, I apologize. I realize you're just trying to help me."
"Good." Doug patted him on the shoulder. "Just a few more things and we'll be on our way."
"Shoot," Bob said. "Not with your bow, of course."
Doug gave him a token chuckle, then went on. "Got gaiters?" he asked.
"What?"
"Gaiters. Like leggings. Helps keep your lower pants dry, safe from thorns. Keeps sand and dirt out of your shoes. Rain."
"Rain again," Bob said. "You know something I don't?"
"No, no," Doug answered. "Just a precaution. I did mention gaiters, though."
Bob nodded. No, you didn't, he remembered.
"You have polyprop long johns?" Doug asked.
"Uh-huh." Bob nodded. Let's get on our way then, he thought.
His mind blanked out a little as Doug ran through what seemed to be a lecture about using the "layering" system to dress; each item of clothing working in combination with the others to deal with any change in the weather, hot or cold.
Lower layer, the long johns, socks; middle layer, shirt or vest, pile pants; outer layer, windbreaker, jacket, boots. Bob's jacket was quilted, not down; that was good. If down got wet, it took forever to dry. Was Bob's jacket seam-sealed? Bob didn't know; he did not attempt to repress a sigh. Doug went on as though he didn't notice. No snaps on Bob's poncho, not good. In a wind, it would blow out like a boat sail. Snaps would prevent that. What kind of weather we planning on? Bob asked. Never know, was all Doug answered.
"Are we ready to go now?" Bob asked.
"No, no, no, no," Doug said scoldingly. "There are several more important things."
"Jesus, Doug. Are we going to have any time to walk before dark?"
Doug looked at him in silence.
"I know. I know," Bob said apologetically. "Important things."
"You doubt it?" Doug said irritably.
"No," Bob sighed. "I'm just . . . anxious to get going, that's all."
"So am I, Bobby, be
"All right, getting back to your clothes," Doug continued. "Let's take a look at your boots." He knelt in front of Bob. "Did you know that every mile you walk, each foot hits the ground almost two thousand times?"
"No. Jesus." Bob was impressed.
"And each foot has twenty-six functional bones," Doug continued.
"No kidding," Bob said. "How do you know all this stuff?"
"I can read too," Doug said.
What the hell does that mean? Bob wondered.
"All right, they're leather, that's good. You never buy plastic."
Plastic? Bob reacted. Who in the hell would buy plastic shoes for hiking?
Doug was running his hands over Bob's boots. "Light-weight, that's good," he said. "You won't need heavyweight boots for a hike this short. Ankle-high, good. Padded ankle collar." He grimaced a little. "Well . . . nylon uppers don't need any break-in, but—"
"What?" Bob asked.
"I prefer leather uppers, they last longer, have more resistance." He stood up, grunting. "No matter. Yours'll be fine. You told the salesman to give you an extra half inch of toe room, didn't you?"
"No." Bob frowned. "You never told me that."
"I must have forgotten," Doug said. "It's nothing fatal. Although it does help to have that extra half inch when you're doing steep downhill hiking. You did wear a pair of thick socks when you were trying them on, didn't you?"
"Yep." Bob nodded, trying not to sound bored, which he was getting.
"Water seal the boots?" Doug asked.
"Yes."
"Cut your toenails?"
"What?" Bob laughed at the question.
"Not a joke," Doug said. "You're going to be doing a lot of walking. Overlong toenails can cause problems."
"Oh, Jesus." Bob made a face. "Well, I don't think they're too long."
"We'll check 'em later," Doug said. "I have a clipper in case you need it."
Bob repressed a sigh but not enough. Doug looked at him with mild accusation. "Bob," he said, "I'm not talking just to hear the sound of my voice. I've been backpacking for years. Everything I'm telling you is pertinent."
"All right, all right, I'm sorry again, I apologize. I realize you're just trying to help me."
"Good." Doug patted him on the shoulder. "Just a few more things and we'll be on our way."
"Shoot," Bob said. "Not with your bow, of course."
Doug gave him a token chuckle, then went on. "Got gaiters?" he asked.
"What?"
"Gaiters. Like leggings. Helps keep your lower pants dry, safe from thorns. Keeps sand and dirt out of your shoes. Rain."
"Rain again," Bob said. "You know something I don't?"
"No, no," Doug answered. "Just a precaution. I did mention gaiters, though."
Bob nodded. No, you didn't, he remembered.
"You have polyprop long johns?" Doug asked.
"Uh-huh." Bob nodded. Let's get on our way then, he thought.
His mind blanked out a little as Doug ran through what seemed to be a lecture about using the "layering" system to dress; each item of clothing working in combination with the others to deal with any change in the weather, hot or cold.
Lower layer, the long johns, socks; middle layer, shirt or vest, pile pants; outer layer, windbreaker, jacket, boots. Bob's jacket was quilted, not down; that was good. If down got wet, it took forever to dry. Was Bob's jacket seam-sealed? Bob didn't know; he did not attempt to repress a sigh. Doug went on as though he didn't notice. No snaps on Bob's poncho, not good. In a wind, it would blow out like a boat sail. Snaps would prevent that. What kind of weather we planning on? Bob asked. Never know, was all Doug answered.
"Are we ready to go now?" Bob asked.
"No, no, no, no," Doug said scoldingly. "There are several more important things."
"Jesus, Doug. Are we going to have any time to walk before dark?"
Doug looked at him in silence.
"I know. I know," Bob said apologetically. "Important things."
"You doubt it?" Doug said irritably.
"No," Bob sighed. "I'm just . . . anxious to get going, that's all."
"So am I, Bobby, be
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