Once upon a time, I used to be quite a girly girl. Not in the sense of wearing make-up every day, but definitely in that I’d rather be indoors reading a book than out playing sport or hiking or anything of the sort. I’m the kind of girl who actually quite likes wearing high-heels (stilettos are so pretty!) and really enjoys looking elegant. I’m never more in my element than when I have an excuse to put on a beautiful ball-gown and dance the night away. One of my friends once commented, after just such a night, that I never needed to find a man because clearly all I needed to leave me positively glowing was a beautiful dress and a perfect night.

When I moved to Joburg and started working, the world opened many more opportunities to look like a grown-up, which I relished. The idea that it might be all pants suits and high heels was soon shattered, however, as I started heading out into the field which, in my particular case, meant spending Fridays and Saturdays on dusty sports-fields helping to make large-scale inter-school, multi-code events happen. So I settled into a relatively happy pattern of jeans and golf-shirts on the weekends and pretty work-clothes during the week (when I wasn’t too exhausted).

Somewhere between then and now, I was bitten by a strange bug. It relates not only to what I wear for work. As a lead trainer running intensive courses for such complicated groups as 18-21 year old volunteers and school teachers, I learnt the power of dressing right for the training setting. These days I wear slacks or smart skirts, collared shirts and make-up to school. It’s the best way to make very sure that these kids (all of whom are from fairly well-off families) take me seriously. And it seems to be working.

Outside of work, however, the exploring bug has bitten. And for the first time in my life, I know exactly what equipment and clothing I need and it all seems strangely natural. I imagine the ability to be ‘outdoorsy’ was probably awakened when I started visiting one of my favourite game-parks in the whole world, Lapalala Wilderness in Limpopo. The visits were entirely work-related – the idea was to design training to be carried out in the park – but they also involved everything from sleeping under the stars around a wood-fire – by which I mean literally in sleeping bags on mattresses on the ground with nothing between you and the sky – to sunset game drives. The Game drives were particularly amazing. The park is a private reserve which, although they were moving towards it, did not at the time have big 5 or many large predators, meaning that the population of young animals was healthy and huge. Our drives in one particular season included sightings of baby antelope of all sizes (kudu, springbuck, etc.), baby giraffe, a white rhino calf and the delightful sight of a family of warthogs running across the dust road with their tails in the air like flagpoles.

The was probably the first time I’d spent significant amounts of time in the wilderness as an adult and was a particularly special time not just because of the place but also because the people involved were amazing and I could see such potential for the programme. It was also the first time I found myself buying outdoorsy clothes, much to the amusement of my housemate at the time.

Now, several years later, I find myself in a country that is made of hills and mountains spending most weekends wandering around exploring. So far I haven’t done any actual hiking but I am walking far more than usual and I can feel my ankles taking strain. Also, I am starting to quite like the idea of walking up a mountain “to see what I could see”, even if I am far from wanting to go on any really difficult hikes or a walk of more than half-a-day. So today, bank card finally functional, I went off to some of the outdoor shops to find a pair of boots.

In the first shop I walked into, I got distracted by a daypack that I think I will go back and buy. When I saw the price (as happens at all of these stores) I got a bit of a fright and went away to see what the other place cost and think about it a little. As it turned out, the other place was wholly unhelpful and in fact didn’t even seem to notice that I’d walked into the shop. Normally I prefer this approach from sales staff but I don’t know very much about hiking boots, so the North Face sales assistant’s help was welcome. After some testing and trying on and figuring out what size my feet are in Korean sizes (which means millimeters, it turns out), I found a pair of red, made in Korea, ankle-height boots. They’re pretty and comfortable and, according to the sales guy, exactly the right size to remain comfortable even when I’m walking for ages and ages.

For those in the know who may want details, they’re North Face boots (made in Korea) and made of Goretex, which apparently means that they’ll be water-resistant and let the air circulate. I was more concerned that they’d be comfortable and provide the ankle support I need but I’m going to complain about the rest. Right now, my pretty shoes are sitting in a box  next to me looking pristine and new and just waiting for the first dusty road or muddy hill to make them real shoes. And all the stories that go with that. Me and my red boots have many stories to tell. I look forward them all.