“My Boots Hit a Bump in the Road” by Jessica Weber

Fall 2024

My boots have always loved the feel of dirt beneath them. I sat down on the edge of the trail on a large and level rock, balancing myself precariously so I could get just the right angle to take a picture of my hiking boots, with my legs stretched out far in front of me, the brilliant turquoise waters and Rocky Mountains behind them.

My boots are tan suede with red laces like the ones Cheryl Strayed wore in Wild, only I had them before they were famous.

Just a few years prior, Tavi and I were married in an afternoon wedding in Elora, Ontario, overlooking waterfalls and cocooned amidst the trees. Opting for a first hike instead of a first dance, we went for a stroll through the woods after the guests departed. These same boots were laced up on my feet under my white wedding dress.

Oh, if boots could talk, they would boast about what they have seen. They climbed their way through the Lares Trek in Peru, summited coastal mountains in British Columbia, and scaled the red rocks of Arizona. 

Yet their biggest challenge came when they were stuck in the closet throughout my cancer treatment. I was diagnosed with a rare and aggressive sinus cancer and was plunged into a world of scans, surgery, chemotherapy and radiation treatments that left me rather broken.

During this time, I kept a list in my journal called Live Life All The Way. It was a collection of things that I would do if I made it to the other side. If, not when, was my mentality at the time. It ranged from simple things like go for long and luxurious brunch, to more ambitious pursuits like hike mountains again. Writing this list gave me something positive to look forward to and hope in all the darkness.

I made it! My boots were now laced up tight, covered in dirt, miles high in the Rocky Mountains. I was through treatment, alive at the top of a mountain, over seven kilometers away from the trailhead with 500 meters of elevation gain. It wasn’t lost on me for a second that six months prior, I could hardly make it up the stairs.

When we got the all-clear to go away, I picked the Canadian Rockies. I had travelled to Banff as a young girl and remembered the awe and amazement that I experienced then. I needed to lace up my boots in these memorable mountains again.

Sitting atop the Highline Trail viewpoint tucked high above Lake Louise, I was pleased we were climbing these steps, on this day, in these mountains. The skies were blue, with clouds occasionally sweeping their way through, providing a break from the intense sun. There was a crispness to the air that only autumn could bring. The weather was perfect for a climb.

As we hiked higher and higher, stopping to take deep breaths because of the altitude, Tavi remarked that it smelled like the pine scented candles we burned throughout the winter, but so much better, crisper.

“It’s not only the pine I smell,” Tavi said.

I looked around. We were surrounded by Mountain Thyme and Juniper Berries - an impressive bouquet.

“I can smell it all,” I said, and that simple fact made me giddy; the giant tumour in my nasal passages had blocked my olfactory senses. But now my nose was clear, and I could smell all the wonderful aromas of the landscape around me.

Near the top, we took a break to fuel ourselves with a protein bar and some water. We had now hiked along the Lake Louise shoreline to the very end of the turquoise waters and up the mountain along the moraine to the Plain of Six Glaciers Tea House.

We could see Lake Louise in the distance and she shone like an emerald gemstone. When the sun caught the yellow leaves of the Aspens dispersed between the lush hues of evergreens, they glowed like nuggets of gold.

Lake Louise shoreline bustled with tourists, all maneuvering to get the best angle for an iconic photograph. Most visitors never venture farther than the paved sidewalk. They miss so much by just seeing the lake from one perspective. How true this is of life.

When we are rushed and busy, and our quest is just to take that famous snapshot, we miss seeing all the other vantage points. We miss the well-earned pride from ascending difficult terrain and then miss being overcome with emotion at the top. We miss the joy in the journey.

Maybe I’d been like that before cancer. Maybe I was too consumed with all the shoulds to make time for the want to’s. I’m not happy I got cancer, but I’m happy with what I can now see because of it.

When I laced up my boots on our wedding day, little did we know that “in sickness and in health” was closer than we could have imagined. But love and partnership and joy were also at hand, and maybe that’s the point. The hills that we climb together, the battles we face, the sorrows we feel, all enable us to appreciate the abundance around us.

My boots have always appreciated the rugged terrain that leads to impeccable views and I thank them for getting me past this bump in the road.

Jessica Weber lives in Kitchener, Ontario with her husband Octavian and Bernedoodle Daisy. She explores the quiet beauty of personal non-fiction, capturing moments of growth, reflection, and the joy of the journey. Jessica can often be found with her hands in the dirt tending to her gardens, taking a stroll down the quiet streets of her neighbourhood, or joining a class to learn something new.

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