The Brothers and the Valley of Silent Men

My final hike in Washington is a good story, and the pictures were more easily sorted through than other legs of the journey, so I am going to write about it.  I apologize that photos posted in a jumble and I am not fixig them any further.  If its trees, its the Valley of Silent Men returning from the Brothers.  Not trees are on the Brothers.  Now, after a 2.5 day, 2 night big loop through Sol Duc and some high trails, I drove the long and ghastly way (construction zones, bleak towns, tedious weaving roads, tourist trap mainstreets) to Hamma Hamma Road, it of the cute name, skipping other sections of the park with desirable mountains due to roads being washed away, or access roads being twisty, sketchy, and dirt or gravel.  I'm trying not to abuse my car as I used to, since my car is now almost not a "teenager" anymore, and once a month, won't start without some Jedi tricks.  I have had this checked out and all I can get any mechanic to tell me is that my car is fine and not only fine, but a marvel, and the envy of new car owners who have more problems than me.  A fun story I may not have mentioned from Glacier: a fellow had to have his hopped-up pimped-out $35,000 country boy truck towed for $400 on a flatbed, then found out the reason it would not start was that his vibrator/heated seat was shorting out the circuit the starter was on, and as soon as he moved the seat back, the circuit reset and his truck was fine.  Yeah, I like a car that I drive, not that drives me.  I don't want any special robot nano-satellite linked artificial intelligence add ins, I just want to get from A to B.  And actually I am happier the less driving I do.  But road trips require it and I've climbed and hiked every decent peak within 50 miles of where I live.

Another aside: while in Olympic National Park, which is not it turns out, the whole peninsula as I thought, there were signs everywhere telling me to vote against national park expansion and to vote for working families.  Blah blah blah, apparently, so far as I could make out: the government wants to forcibly buy more land from people currently living in areas sort of inside the park.  These homes were there first.  Now, I found it odd passing through neighborhoods in a rainforest, but Olympic National Park is already pretty big.  Many of the mountain trails require 25 mile approaches.  That is not ideal because the legs are burned up by the time you start going up.  And few people do it.  Mostly, I only saw people within 1 mile of trailheads.  So why exactly does the park need to be bigger?  This is one park I say is plenty large enough, especially if 5 years after a flood, I still can't get to the Doswallips peaks because the road has not been repaired.  Washington seems to do a pretty good job running their forests, and every forest I saw looked danged healthy, though there are some ugly clear cut spots on the hills.  These are rotated, and my jokes and grievances with the logging trucks aside (I forgot to mention about Mt St Helens that while permits to climb the peak are strictly enforced and limited that 2 of every 3 vehicles I saw was a truck loaded with timber; and my bootprints are going to destroy the area?!  Also the ranger I mentioned giving a talk said that elk hoof prints churn the soil and promote regrowth and they are hoping more elk move in.  Yet there are signs all over to not stray from trails.  Again...how are my boot prints doing so much harm?  Wouldn't they churn the soil and promote regrowth too?  To a point?  As long as a million people don't visit per year, which they do not.)

Well, so Hamma Hamma.  Got there on a Tuesday night, a good time to arrive as Lena Lake TH parking is supposed to get fierce and competitive and the area sees lots of campers.  On-line info I had, which was scant as I don't research much, said I would walk a pretty much flat trail 3 miles with a bunch of obnoxious fatso families carrying coolers full of beer, then camp at a lake teeming with idiots who draw bears in with their improper food storing knowledge and that I would be unhappy, but hey, its better than carrying a heavy pack 7 miles to the foot of The Brothers.  So I packed my huge blue rig, the bag that weighs 5 lb empty due to steel rods in it, the kind everyone carries which I've abandoned because it blows out knees and burns up legs and lungs, all so I could carry my tent.  After all, it was only 3 miles.  Then I hit the TH, gorging on fattening soups and peanut butter of course, and read the description and look at the route map and see a whole lot of switchbacks.  Well, that trail is disgusting, heinous, and long and hard and hot.  You go up 1900 feet, its all switchbacks, with no views, and then you actually descend to the lake, so you probably go up 2100 feet.  Its not fun with a heavy pack.  I sweat through my clothes and was pushing dusk.  The lake is ugly so far as lakes go, or at least, was unimpressive. Camping was good, with toilet facilities, toilet paper (a first in Washington!  Hurrah!), nice sites, grills and fire pits provided.  I could not take the storing of food all that seriously when grills were provided though.  Really?  I should worry about bears?  When grills, which absorb flesh over every barbecue for years and are never cleaned and send out very strong odors are right here.  Please.  If bears were frequent to the area, there would not be grills.  But marmots were sneaking about my tent, so I was glad my food was creatively hidden under a log with moss thrown over it 50 feet away.

I was beat but got up dutifully early next morning, expecting a grueling time of it.  I had 3 miles of the Valley of Silent Men between me and the start of the (allegedly) 1.5 miles and 3500 feet of The Brothers.  The Brothers stand 6800 feet above sea level and the trail up to Lena Lake starts at 100 feet.  So there is almost as much up as one has to up at the Grand Teton.  Morning in the Valley of Silent Men was creepy, with no sound at all and little light.  It was ugly too, which disappointed.  I made rapid work of it, stopping for plenty of water as I did not know when my last water for the day would come.  Passed a couple of heavy sleepers who did not stir when I was 2 feet from their tent, laughing at their hanging of food from a tree: 5 feet off the ground on a branch a marmot could easily climb.  So they make their food conspicuous to a bear and accessible to a marmot.  Bury it under a rock and you'd be better off. The family next to me at Lena Lake had been doing the same thing, but I sufficiently stared at them with awe that they knew something in their technique must be wrong and moved to where I could not judge them.  I watched many people hang food in Washington and have watched it in Idaho too, and I never cease to wonder: why?  Buy a bear canister.  It hurts to pay for it the one time, but it adds little extra weight to your pack.  Lord knows most of these people are already carrying 50-80 pounds, so 3 lbs matters?  It keeps your food dry, organized, not smushed, provides a seat in camp, is waterproof, and saves you the 15-30 minutes of daily work every time you set up camp for the rest of your life.  And bears can't get your food, nor marmots, nor rats, not bunnies, nor leprechauns.  I resisted the bear can, but now I take it even when not in bear country.  It makes packing and unpacking way easier.  Enough said.

My attempt at The Brothers was an old-school one.  I had a puny and insufficient map which told me little other than at the end of a 6 mile trail to the Northwestish were 2 large mountains named "The Brothers."  I did not pull it out all day.  I had read enough and viewed a few pics to have the following advice in mind: "when in doubt, go right", and "your options are steep snow, or steep rock, just grab a gully and go".  My impression was this would be a climb at some point, you know, like up cliffs, and slabs, and so I wore my approach shoes, a low cut hiking shoe with sticky soles, ideal for leaping, springing, jogging, well really any move, but not for carrying a heavy pack 3 miles to a lake, and not for sinking into mud or scree.  These were the wrong shoes.  I will not go into a complete detailed description because less than 500 people per year make an effort at The Brothers, I expect, but I will provide generalities.  There is a trail all the way to the summit (s), and to a saddle I wound up on.  These various faint trails are not maintained, but neither really is the trail through the Valley of Silent Men, despite what the park claims.  There are ribbons blazing the way through the valley, and you will need to climb over some large fallen trees, do some route finding, cross a creek probably once without a bridge, and go around some washed out sections of cliffy trail.  Its easy to follow, if you follow faint trails for a living, like me, but if you are an occasional hiker, take your time and look for ribbons and cairns.  There are ribbons blazing the trail all the way up The Brothers too.  Some are orange, some silver, some pink, most red.  They stand out if you know to keep looking for them, but there is room to get lost or stray between them.  There are cairns where ribbons cannot be hung.  Some tape has been put down where ribbons could not be hung; strips of red or orange as Xs on rocks.  These will get moved about.  The route is intuitive once you have done it, not before.  Do not listen to anyone who says the route is intuitive the first time.  I've climbed/hiked near 100 mountains and have never been so lost as on The Brothers, and if you heard about my experiences last year with a couple of 18 hour days and 4 mile creek bushwhacks, then you know that is saying something.  There is no climbing involved, unless you are playing, or lost.  There is scrambling, and steep hiking.  You cannot pick out the summit(s) of The Brothers.  There are a ton of jagged peaks and spires which from various angles look like the high point.  Don't bother unless you know which one is really the true high point (again, that means prior experience in the area).  In spring or early summer, you would follow ice channels and snow up for a long steep way in cleats with an axe.  In August, its a gully run.  You follow gullies up the whole way for quickish climbing and will have to leave them now and again to avoid melting and dangerous snow.  Do not bring climbing shoes, or wear anything other than ankle-supporting clunky boots.  Not doulbe plastic, but solid hiking boots.  Something you don't mind getting dirty or scratched up.  Also, wear pants.  There are thorns, fire ants, hornets and that ilk, thick brush, fallen trees, avalanche zones, fire zones, jagged rocks, and more.  Long sleeves are good too.  Water is available the whole way, every 1/2 mile or so at least and almost up to the summit(s).  A straw filter is ideal as a backup as some pools are too small to filter from, but if you have a straw type, as pictured below, you can slurp up a sip anytime you need to, in under a minute.  In late summer there are some ice caves to cool off in.  Use them.  They are cool.  And at the first one, you need to go left, through the burn zone.  Do not try the mossy slabs and cliffs, and the trail traverses through the worst of the fire zone.  The route is actually two gullies.  Leave the first and connect to the second to the west.  About 1/8 between, I think.  This was where I got most lost and did the most wrong things trying to find a route, since I did not know there was A route, marked the whole way, and the only real plausible single way up, give or take some straying.

Go to frontier-filter.com for the straw filter I describe and show, or find an Emergency Essentials store or type of store near you.  I paid $6 for mine at one of Utah's many disaster preparedness stores.  This model filters up to 6 gallons of water, and is ideal as a backup (1 oz!), or as a cartridge saver, which I am now using it as more and more.  Basically, using any product ruins it, but with a water filter especially, the dirtier the water, the faster you need a new cartridge.  So when I'm looking down at a mud hole now, I use the straw even if I could fit the filter in and pull out a liter.  A new cartridge is more than a new straw Frontier Filter.  This will stop working when shot, by jamming.  So if you suck and nothing comes out, throw it away and buy a new one.  Or replace it every 6 months of hiking or so rather than trying to keep track of how many swallows of water you've taken and how many gallons that adds up to.

You can camp on The Brothers.  There are campsites at the end of the official trail which are nice and near water, but I also found camp signs very near the summit.  Again, there is water the whole way, so this can be done.  Do not carry a heavy pack, or even a tent.  Unless you are going for a week.  Near the summit(s) there are many walls, spires, and towers which would make good day climbs and short adventures for a few hours.  Frankly, for all the misery of going up there, you ought to savor it and make it worth the stress on the knees.  And at one point, I just said "screw this, water knows how to get down, so I'm going to follow these waterfalls", and I did, going up steep wet rocks, which was a real change from going up steep dry rocks and dry gravel for the last several hours.

I spent 14 hours round trip leaving from Lena Lake and returning there, with about 800 calories of food and drinking about 1/2 gallon of filtered water, which was not enough.  The trail is hot, exposed, tedious, and torturous and it sucks until the very end.  Again, if you are climbing, it should be for play.  It won't get you anywhere near the top.  I had to backtrack almost every cliff I did and some of those were hard.  The rocks are often slippery, and when not, are crumbly.  The character of every gully is different.  The main gully is the one to follow, as it leads all the way.  Stay close even when you have to get around the snow.  As for when in doubt, go right: I'd provide this rule: When in doubt, go right, then try left, and then check the middle.  Probably they are all bad options.  If you are stupid, stubborn, or can't bear the thought of returning to your life as a mild-mannered, average-looking middle-class nobody, then keep forcing your way up, if not, turn back like most climbers do, and lie.  Say you were on top but your camera jammed, or lie that you ever tried to do The Brothers.  Also I would add that no one should try to solo The Brothers unless 2 or more of the following apply: 1) you are a psychopath, 2) you already drove all the way to the trailhead to meet a friend and your friend never showed, then you got a text saying your friend died and to honor your friend's spirit, you proceed alone no matter the risks, 3) you want to die, 4) you have a lingering grudge against your knees because your knees stole your best friend's girl and then broke her heart after impregnating her and refusing to pay the abortion so you want to destroy their cartilage as fast as possible so they can't ruin the lives of anymore sweet young maidens, 5) you are one of the greatest mountain climbers alive and want a challenge, 6) the thought of returning home after being wild and free for 16 days is repugnant because you like being dirty and are at home a mild-mannered, average-looking middle-class nobody who was supposed to be a big deal according to standardized tests and the opinions of every grade school teacher you ever have but enjoying life and climbing mountains and writing poems you don't let anyone see because "Van Gogh never sold a painting" sounds like failure to these people, whom you mostly avoid anyway, and didn't ever like much even, but still! 

I will let you decide which of them applies to me.  Did I make it to the top?  Well I did, but my camera jammed...nah just kidding.  Its shockingly worth it for these views and for having clouds brush and waft slowly through your outstretched fingertips:

Film does not do them justice.  I did not think anything could redeem that slog.  I went up moss-covered cliffs, hacked with an axe through a burn zone of dead and falling trees, tripped and fell more than I ever have on any trail (other than The Secret Garden Trail at Sol Duc two days before), got bit by several kinds of things, lost a half dozen times, even on the way down, almost fell off a couple of cliffs (more so than usual), got cliffed-out multiple times which is the worst, had to invent several moves to make it back down some of these danged gullies and cliffs, and hated every minute.  I kept thinking of a Michael Jordan interview where he said the first championship was not the hardest though it took him 7 years and everyone said the whole time he was over-rated and would never get one, and couldn't do it, the last was the hardest b because he already had 5 and it was easier to rest on his laurels, and he had to fight with himself to find the hunger and not be tired.  I felt like that.  I had every reason to turn back and give up.  I meant to a dozen times, but then I started to smell the peak, and it didn't matter that I had done 12 mountains and 150 miles even without these summits, I just started yelling at the mountain:  I will not give up.  You will lose.  I don't care if I die.  You'll have to kill me.  If it takes me till sundown, then I will camp up here and dance all night to keep warm like John Muir used to, when he had no sleeping bag and it started snowing and his friend got frostbite and lost a foot.  Nothing will stop me.  Tell me I'm the best you've seen.  Tell me I'm the clumsiest but I try hard.  Tell me I'm the dumbest.  Tell me I'm something!  (Clearly, I was either overheated or I have emotional problems, but then we all knew this since I solo climb mountains most professional climbers do in teams with safety gear and rappel down)

But it was all worth it on top.  Again, did not think that possible.  I wish I had had more time up there.  The descent went much much faster and was not so bad.  I divided the whole way into little segments, which is the way to cope with bad situations.  My friend, the last time I went out with someone, was very impressed.  He was thinking: its getting dark and we have 8 miles to go, we're lost, the conditions are bad, there is no water on route, and we're both worn down and we will never make it.  And I would say, well its not even a quarter mile to the end of this snowfield.  And we made it, eventually, at midnight, after 18 hours.  And we still talk.  Sort of.  So I divided the long painful slog into sections.  Get to the bottom of these cliffs and then things aren't so bad.  1/4 of steep sliding scree to that second ice cave, then 1/2 mile to the first one.  Cool off and get some water at those.  Then back to the fire zone...and so on.  I knew the way now.  The only real adventure was a goat stalked me.  This lady goat watched me starting slides with each step down the scree, and I thought she was thinking: "what a clutz!  How much noise!  I always get the worst neighbors!"  Then in the ice cave, the whole world began to shake and I froze and thought: avalanche!  Do I stay in here?  Will it hold?  And what do I see?  That goat leaping out of the way after triggering it.  So maybe she was thinking the whole time that I moved good for a three legged goat (I had my alpine axe and was stopping all my falls with it).  Then she came to the mouth of the cave and stared at me, so I moved, she stepped in to cool off and get some shade, then followed me.  This went on for a half hour and 1/4 mile of the gully.  She got very close several times and even passed me once and all the while blinking at me, with flies taking her apart.  I finally made some quick climbing moves that spooked her to go away, or convinced her I was not just a shy three-legged potential mate but a man-cub, or some other goat boogy beast.  But it creeped me out.  Okay, you're lonely, I get that, your biological clock is ticking, but come on.  I had to keep close eye on her horns incase she went crazy and charged me, and I was glad once again to have that alpine axe there.  A fine weapon when needed.

Above: My goat stalker becomes the prey.  She proves she trusts me by turning her back to me while contemplating the long way down I had to go yet.  The Valley of Silent Men starts heading West (to the right) where the trees meet the creek long past the burn zone at the foot of the facing mountain.  Perhaps she was trying to express with body language: "the way is long, hard, and unpleasant, stay with me, we will go bowling," or some such feminine mystique.  This may have been the Jane Austen of mountain goats for all I know.  The close ups are not zooms.  Animals, eight year old girls, and married 40+ year old women love me!  Everyone else...well my mom says I'm cool.

The campers were gone when I made the river, but the Valley of Silent Men now had late evening light and was gorgeous!  A wholly changed environment, not sinister now, even when the creek went underground and the air became echoingly still.  Most of my pictures did not come out as it was too late.  There is one gorgeous waterfall in the area, and lots of mossy mounds and nursery logs (old trees now sprouting with grasses, moss, flowers, and new trees as they compost), which can be had in other parts of Olympic and Washington and Oregon, but I was really floored with hills of ivy and some of the spots I passed through.  These are the few photos that came out decently.  I was pushing dusk again when I hit Lake Lena and stayed up eating until about 11 pm.  I knew my next day was just hiking out.  I had planned to go 10 more miles round trip to do Mt Lena, which offers the best views of The Brothers and can be approached from the camp I already had, but my knees were done.  I woke up having a dream I was being tortured actually and had to slowly straighten my legs.  Then I rested until noon before packing up and heading down because my knees and feet needed it.  Actually 10 days later I am still moving around like Bruce Wayne in the latest Batman movie, before he, you know, grows new cartilage and becomes Batman again with the cane forgotten, before his back gets broken and an Arab played by a white guy (one of 3,000 in the film) punches his back whole for him so he and his regrown (is that even possible?) cartilage can make the leap of faith and save Gotham on the very last day at the very last hour of 5 months after being saved by Catwoman at the very single instant when she could do so without killing both Bane and the other chick but before she was too late...not that I'm questioning that movie, not at all.

Actually, I'm glad to be limping around.  If I'm not injured, then how hard did I really work?  And was anything I did really worth it?  Funny.  I just read some guy/kid's trip report of solo climbing the Grand Teton, one spot I'm heading next, and saying he thought the idea was insane and he would die, and then after he did it, he thought, well if I did it, it can't have been hard and I shouldn't be proud of it.  That's how I always feel after a climb too.  Maybe everyone feels that way, and its coming down from the adrenaline.  But The Brothers were a great send-off.  I was able to keep pressing because they were last.  I made them the grand finale.  Had I gone there first or in the middle, I'd have quit and saved my legs.  So I am proud of those peaks.  You have no idea what it took to get these pictures...well I guess you do actually.  Missing Mt Lena was not too big a deal.  Some chubby whiny girl had sprained her ankle at the lake and was milking it, sobbing up a storm and making every stranger wait for her.  I refrained from sharing any of my pagan and old-world suck-it-up suffering makes us better philsophies.  I made some friends too.  A co-ed doing surveys for the park and a nice man who kept calling himself fat and wanted company after not reaching the lake before giving up (recent heart attack and his doc said stop when you get chest pains, but get active) until I mentioned I was from Utah and then he said if he didn't manage to lose the weight he wanted to, he could just move back there and look thinner.  So we shared Utah jokes.  And I think I embaressed him a little when I told my co-ed surveyer that I had put in 14 hours screaming and sweating to the top of The Brothers and that I refused to turn back for anything.  But mostly we shared Utah jokes.  Good times.

Seriously, last warning: The Brothers is not only not for anybody, but not for most.  The Valley of Silent Men is not named that on maps, but is appropriate, because silent, and frequented only by rugged mountaineers, not men of many words...before the advent of blogging anyway.  To visit the Valley, camp at Lena Lake and spend an afternoon there.  The last mile of trail is the best section. 

The Short and Typical Journey of Wenger Footwear

And ode and a lament in one, for the world's greatest shoe (deceased) 

4 years ago, my feet were about shot.  So too my knees, and my back from time to time.  Some people advised me to buy better shoes, which I tried, but every activity still wore me down.  I came across some Swiss shoes by Wenger, the maker of the original Swiss Army knife, online only, and thought, okay I will give these a shot.  I thought hey, if they are designed and built for the Alps where well-to-do, cultured high-brow Europeans do some of the best hiking and climbing in the world, then they ought to answer for Utah.  I hesitated to buy online, as sizing and fit can be an issue, but with fingers crossed, I ordered anyway.  The shoes were new (their first year), looked great (bright reds, orange with pink, blue, green, different styles and heights, and treads), seemed extremely ambitious, carried a top name and proud logo, and displayed the kind of exuberance that youth brings- in a person or a company.  And which fades over time too often...

Well it all worked out.  I have been wearing my classic oranges for 3+ years now and they still answer for a walk of a mile or less.  I got some blistering the other day power walking 3 miles to start getting into shape for the hard summer I have planned, but they have been complimented, performed in all weathers, can be used for climbing, hiking, jogging, you name it- go great with all outfits, are tough, waterproof, and still, shake off dirt like no shoe I have ever seen.  For 2 full years they would look shot and then with a spritz of water shine like new.  Thank goodness I have another pair fresh in my closet waiting for me the last 2.5 years, because I will need them this summer.  And Wenger does not make any oranges anymore.  The model of shoe, Matterhorn, is also not available at most websites anymore.  I once checked Wenger's home site, which does not specialize in sales, and found that in Europe some bright colors were still available (are they now?  Who knows, even Europeans get boring, because for some reason they copy our fashion, and are even trying to get fat and stupider), although few.  But the specialization and craft is largely out of the company now.  Their second year in business the shoes were leaning towards being grey and black with striping of bright colors, with more traditional cuts and fewer options.  I am not sure how to take that.  At the time I thought, well I guess no one but me wanted shoes that everyone will admire and be jealous of, no one is confident enough to wear the colors of the sunset on their feet.  People are pretty boring.  And maybe some of their over-hyped claims, such as how the Albion was a hiker (I own them, and they are only a "hiker" if you consider walking to work on sidewalks "hiking".  Yes they are a fine walking shoe, made of good material, with gorgeous shape and cut, and in bright red with red laces I get a lot of compliments (quick suggestion here men: women seem to look at a man's feet more than you would think.  I have had about a dozen women of various ages begin conversations with me over my great Wenger vintage shoes.  So stop wearing the ratty old pair with holes and do yourself a favor, dress up, starting from the bottom), but I would never take them on an actual hike.  They are a gorgeous casual shoe for people who want to pretend they are sporty, like how most drivers of S.U.V.s care more about the pop down TV screen than about the extra paneling on the undercarriage to protect them from rocks on gravel roads.  They will do in a pinch if you need to jog to work.  Anyway, it does not matter, they too are discontinued.

Year 2's slightly less artisan shoe line of smaller scope (was the passion gone?  Or was the plan to see what sold and stick with only those?) with stiffer bodies that pinched the foot a little, but which still performed (I can jog on bald ice in my winter hiker pair from that year) gave over to Year 3.  An even smaller line.  Grey now the most exciting color.  Brown and tan the norm for the few cuts.  All of them more cheaply made and even the same "models" being downgraded.  (I cannot jog on bald ice in my Year 3 Winter Hikers which are theoretically the same shoe as Year 2, but in different colors, and they can still claim to be weather rated against frostbite to negative 25 Ferenheit, but my feet get cold in them near zero)  Those shoes that were constructed well, such as the Yetti, a fine winter sport hiker, with full ankle support, creative tread well suited to snow, and very sturdy toe box and heel shell molding to give a tighter, truer fit with snoeshoes (they do by the way- no slipping, which means no blisters), came with trash insoles.  The Yetti is still available, by the way, and though I have not tried the second year model, if they are comparable, are well worth the $99 price.  The boots look great, will last well to actual use (take care of them, but only after you beat them up in using them), and are not so insulated as to be unusable in summer, though in hot temperatures, you will get some steamed feet.  Still, they are as waterproof as boots come and true summer hikers in another brand make my feet sweat more, and are not even close to still being waterproof after 2 summers.  They barely remained so for one, which is typical (and yes I know that one needs to treat goretex products with a re-sealer each year, I am not an idiot, thank you).  I recommend the Yetti, though the trash insole will not even work to walk around the house in.

Again, I cut Wenger slack.  Most hikers these days are trained by REI staff members to believe they need a $40 insole and why not, there is more money to be had.  So perhaps Wenger thought, why waste the money putting in a good insole that people will discard before even trying out?  Wenger's Year 1 and 2 shoes had magnificent insoles, by the way.  I am still on the original in my Oranges, though I have had to pad them the past 2 years underneath by cutting old socks and slipping those under the insoles. This costs exactly nothing by the way, and so you will never hear anyone in the business, such as an REI staffer suggest it.  Why be resourceful in a modern capitalist country?  Why take 90 seconds making your shoes better than new for free by cutting up an old sock when you can swipe a credit card?

Ah but now we are in Year 4 and I see what Wenger's plan probably was all along.  Get some name recognition, some devoted followers, insiders who have credibility and tell everyone buy Swiss or go barefoot, and to all the time, be working on creating a product that can be mass-produced in China quickly enough to infiltrate Target.  Yes, you can now buy decent and well-designed tents, backpacks, shoes, and other gear at Target chains with that glorious Wenger red cross, as well as at Ross and TJ Maxx chains.  They are the best thing you can buy- at those stores- and are still a better deal than most products you can buy at R.E.I.  or similar stores, where backpacks cost an astonishing $200!  And may last, but are so pretty that you will feel the need to buy a new one after taking it out once, because for $200, the thing ought to shine and sparkle you know?  But in no way can I now say that I will never buy anything but Wenger again.  They saved my feet, and maybe even my life, (melodrama?), but the product they are putting out now does not pass The Still Wild West 5 second flex test.  I can pick up a shoe and tell you in 5 seconds if it is worth buying.  If it feels like it was made by hand with leather the way my vintage Wengers still do after 2 and 3 years (I kept buying new models; I get teased by the same women who compliment me; "oh you have more shoes than I do.  Every day a new color."), then it is worth almost any price.  Sadly, I don't know of any company that makes such a shoe now.  Salomon only works for narrow feet and I lost some toenails trying them on steep hills in Utah.  Though maybe I could size up.  I just hate looking like another yuppy you know?  Wearing Salomon to me makes a simple statement: look at me, I like to look like I do this all the time!

I haven't liked the few other major brands I have tried either.  Wenger was one brand not building in arch support, which only works if you have, you know, high arches.  Otherwise it causes problems.  So good luck.  If you find the perfect shoe let me know.  I have about 3 years left with my new oranges, and maybe with new insoles, I can make the 2 sets of Matterhorns I have last forever.  If not, who knows.  If only I had had the foresight to buy 3 pairs of Matterhorns, but that seemed too ridiculous.  Who buys shoes more than 2 years in advance really?  And had I known they were good for 3 years each, I'd have said, well, I'm covered until I am 30, and by then, I may be sick of having fun or will have been struck by lightning.  Oh well.