Over the course of her hike along the PCT, Cheryl transitions from a rugged, arid desert climate to the lush greenery of the Pacific Northwest. She goes from being someone who once compulsively shot heroin to someone who hankers, at the end of each day, only for a Snapple lemonade. She makes new friends, learns new things, and revolutionizes her life: each day on the PCT is as wild and unpredictable as the one before. The single constant, however, is Cheryl’s misery when it comes to her feet. With each day she hikes, Cheryl accrues blisters, bruises, and scrapes—most of which blossom beneath her heavy hiking boots from REI. Tending to her battered feet becomes a grotesque but necessary part of the journey, and with each day that goes by, Cheryl develops more and more of a love-hate relationship with her boots. Cheryl’s boots hurt and constrain her, but she doesn’t learn until nearly halfway through her hike that there’s another way: that she can call REI and have them send her a new pair of boots, free of charge. Once the new boots arrive, they’re not much better than the old ones—but Cheryl knows she’s got to make do with what she has. Cheryl’s boots are a symbol for the way she’s moved through life so far—and the way life has moved through her. Life has battered Cheryl just as intensely as her boots have, and yet, until setting foot on the PCT, she’s never really considered how to make healthy choices, how to help herself grow, and how to focus on learning, growing, and simply existing on her own. Cheryl’s new boots are like the version of being in the world she discovers while on the PCT. Life is still going to be difficult and painful, even now that Cheryl has decided to take her fate, her health, and her capacity for self-love into her own hands—but there’s nothing to do but keep marching forward, even in the face of more blisters and bruises.
Cheryl’s Boots Quotes in Wild
“You could wish for a horse,” Brent said. “Then you wouldn’t have to worry about your feet.”
I looked at him in the dark. […] “I used to have a horse,” I said, turning my gaze back to the sky. […]
“Well then, you’re lucky.” He said. “Not everyone gets a horse.”
My new boots had only chawed my feet afresh. I was passing through the beautiful territory I’d come to take for granted, my body finally up to the task of hiking the big miles, but because of my foot troubles, I sank into the grimmest despair. […] Perhaps my feet would never be okay.
Cheryl’s Boots Symbol Timeline in Wild
