The most important piece of gear you will ever need while hiking the outdoors belongs on your feet. Depending on the load you are planning to carry and the terrain and the weather, your footwear determines if your trip will be satisfying and enjoyable or just miles of torture and agony. It all goes back to common sense. If you're planning a 20 to 50 mile trip which includes clambering up the sides of rocky mountains with a 50 to 60 lb. pack strapped to your back in the middle of December, you'll probably need some all-leather, solid backpacking boots (Gore-Tex optional).

Likewise, any long trip with difficult terrain in any season is going to require some sturdy boots. If you are planning a shorter trip with a lighter load, any type of ankle-supporting boot will probably suit you fine. When you are trying to go light and fast, any number of all-terrain running/hiking shoes that have come out in the past few years would be a good choice. Make sure you try for some shoes with a least little ankle support as most trails are going to be rocky and rooty. Now that the footwear issue is marginally settled, how about socks?

Again, you're going to need to balance load/terrain with season. A good general rule to avoiding painful feet and huge blisters is to use a synthetic liner sock (i.e., Thermatex, Poly-pro or Cool-Max) with an outer wool or wool/synthetic sock. Sock selection alone won't guarantee a blister-free, blissful trip. The boots (especially if they are new, heavy-duty boots), need to be broken in. You can do that by working them with your hands for about an hour a day or you can wear them around town for a couple of weeks.

This should make 'em soft and supple and ready to go. Another important tip to remember is to carry along a pair of sneakers, sandals or moccasins to put on after your hike. Taking off your smelly, wet socks and confining boots after a long hike will go along way toward your comfort around the campsite. It also helps to stave off any discomfort caused by fungal infections. The drier your feet, the better.

Speaking of fungus, about two years ago I was hiking with my pal Yo in the Great Smoky Mountains in western North Carolina and a peculiar incident involving mushrooms happened. We had just been liberated from the weight and enslavement of alcohol and chosen the higher path to outdoor consciousness a few months before. With this new philosophy in mind we started our hike deep under a green canopy of Smoky Mountain pines where a wide stream flashed and spurted over and around ancient, smooth stones.

The first day of hiking was uneventful. We took the trailhead to a gravel service road and eventually broke off that to head up a skinny, dark, primitive trail towards higher elevations and beautiful vistas. After camping near a small feeder stream, we hit the trail the next day and reached the summit of a bald around 3 p.m. We slung our sweaty packs down and flopped our sweaty selves down and ate a little lunch. After bullshitting and relaxing for about 20 minutes, Yo noticed a small shanty almost swallowed up by fingers of tree branches bordering the meadow.

The shaky shack wasn't too out of place because the Smokies are littered with ruins and other signs of previous human inhabitants. Nevertheless, we were near the border of the park and hill people have been known to deposit secret stills in the depths of the federally protected woods. After a few seconds of deliberation we sauntered over for a gander. Yo toed the weathered plank door open with his boot. Our eyes took a few minutes to get adjusted to the sun-filtered gloom of the interior.

"Holy shit!," I exclaimed. The dirt floor, or I assumed it was dirt, was covered in a carpet of mushrooms.

"Do you think those are magic mushrooms?," Yo whispered.

"I don't know," I said. There was evidence of human cultivation and they looked just like the one-page ad shouting "Grow Your Own Psychedelic Mushrooms!" that runs in almost every High Times issue. "They look pretty good," I whispered to Yo.

"They look almost exactly like those 'shrooms in those High Times ads," Yo said, echoing my own thoughts.

We looked at each other, the glint of psychedelic experience shining in our eyes, and scooped up a huge handful. After scooting back to our packs, cramming a few caps and stems into our mouth and securing the rest into our packs, we started hiking again, heads and faces flushed with the blood that hits you after doing something slightly wrong.

We started to banter back and forth the farther away we hiked from the shed, talking about how we might die if the mushrooms were poisonous... but who would cultivate a shack full of poisonous mushrooms?... a backwoods witch, maybe?... but why did they grow them close to the trail?.... Our talk eased us down the rocky path, past gnarled roots and through the thickening valley canopy. As we negotiated a fallen tree, I noticed that I was starting to feel a little happy. My throat started to constrict and a huge smile slowly inched its way across my face.

"Dude, I think the 'shrooms are kicking in," Yo squealed.

Just then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a flash of color whiz by.

"Did you see that?," I exclaimed to Yo.

"Nah, you're just starting to trip... I suggest you go with it," he explained, "We'll probably start to see some nice colors, ya know?"

About this time we reached the bottom of the dark valley which was covered in luxuriant green moss and rotting, slimy logs. A small brook trickled down through the middle of the area and splashed off into the distance. We decided to take a break and let the mushrooms take effect.

"Psst... hey, buddy!,"

"What do you want, Yo?," I said.

"I didn't say anything, dude," Yo said.

"Psssssttt.... You got a light?"

"Where in the hell is that voice coming from," Yo whispered.

"I don't know," I whispered back.

"Over the log, you nitwits!" came the voice again. Yo and I peered over the nearest mossy log and saw what appeared to be a frog and a mouse smoking, or attempting to smoke, an hookah. "What the fuck," Yo exclaimed, "we're in fucking Wonderland!"

"No shit!," I spat.

The frog looked up at us and yelled, "I don't care where you think you are, do you have a light??!!"

Yo grabbed a black Bic out of his pocket and lit it in front of the frog.

The mouse said, "Put it on the bowl, dumbass!" Yo complied and we sat back as the frog took a huge hit off a very small hookah.

"Ahhhhh," he breathed, "Nothing like a hit of sensi after a nice meal of flies and grubs!"

The mouse snickered and said, "My turn! My turn!, give it to me!"

"Alright, alright," the frog said.

Yo and I looked at each other, dumbfounded. We nodded knowingly at each other, the smile back on our lips as we prepared to enjoy the ride as Yo's face started to twist and reform into unexplainable, bizarre formations of liquid skin. His Asian face danced and sang to become a jellyfish? Clouds skirted quickly through branch windows above. The waning dark pall created by the trees shaded the sun and turned sinister, then, at the same time, the shafts of sun, cutting through the clouds and to the forest floor brought flies of light towards my eyes, banishing my black fears. While my mind reveled in revelations and cornered some conflicts, Yo got up and stumbled over to the brook and plunged his head into a small pool.

"There are fucking talking nymphs in there," he sputtered after he yanked his head from the water, "They told me to hook 'em up with some tunes!"

I laughed and turned back towards the frog and mouse. A curl of pot smoke hung heavily in the still valley air. They were gone but I swear I caught a glimpse of the frog tearing down the trail on an old velocipede. He bounced over a root and disappeared.

"Damn," I thought, "I woulda liked a hit off his bong."

Accordingly, we were both lost in our own separate trips for the next 4 hours and talking woodland creatures were the least of our visions. I woke up to early evening with most of my clothes gone except for one sock on one foot and two layers of socks on the other. My hair had twigs and leaves entangled in it and the trail was, miraculously, right under my ass. I heard Yo yelling from up the trail about 100 yards, so I walked sheepishly up to where he was sprawled. His clothes were all on but the entire contents of his pack were neatly piled up on a mossy pad and his skin was covered in cuts and leeches.

"What the fuck happened?," we muttered at the same time. We both burst out laughing, gathered our gear, pried the leeches off Yo and headed back down the trail with a nice campsite waiting for us a few miles farther on.

Proper footwear is essential to making your outdoor experience enjoyable and memorable. Remember to keep your feet dry and don't be afraid of a little fungal infection, you never know what you might see.

Next issue: Saddle Sore.