SAN JOSE MERCURY NEWS Peninsula Living Section November 3, 1995 No boots for these hikers By Susan Orenstein Mercury News Staff Writer PAUL LUCAS is out enjoying a hike: chatting with some buddies, gazing at the distant city skyline, feeling the sun on his skin, and, for an extra pleasure, stepping on hot gravel in his bare feet. Lucas' mother, for one, thinks he's a little weird. He himself admits, "We're not entirely sure why some people have this inclination toward wanting to hike this way and other people don't." But Lucas suspects there are many others like him, people who like feeling the pine needles as much as smelling the roses, who feel trapped inside their boots, who are not afraid of a few thorns. For them, Lucas, 27 and a recent arrival to Mountain View, has started one of a handful of barefoot hiking clubs throughout the country for the South Bay. "Why barefoot? It feels nice ... and you never get blisters," says a flier he has tacked up at libraries and stores in Palo Alto and other Peninsula cities. There are plenty of advantages to taking to the woods "unshod," as the barefooter's lingo goes. It's more natural, causes less soil erosion, and, according to Lucas and others, is healthier for the feet. They don't get smelly, for one. Ankle sprains are less likely because the foot is directly on the ground, with less chance to twist. "Contrary to popular opinion, there's nothing unique about human feet to prevent them from walking bare on natural surfaces," says Lucas, who particularly enjoys soft, powdery soil, "so when you step down it puffs up between your toes." (He adds that "various muds are also nice.") Lucas eschews shoes off the trail as well as on, sometimes going weeks at a time without lacing up. His feet, accessorized with a toe ring and several string ankle bracelets, are tanned a comely brown. "Boots," he says, "allow hikers to be clumsy." Low foot esteem I count myself among the clumsy for sure, but decided the only way to report fully on the barefoot hiking phenomenon was to try it myself. Always self-conscious about the appearance of my feet, which resemble narrow boards, I was less worried about splinters than getting laughed at, even scorned. (A doctor once asked if I had trouble balancing.) I wasn't entirely joking when I told friends I would rather go topless than barefoot. When I arrived on a recent Saturday at the entrance to Wunderlich Park in Woodside, Lucas was waiting along with Leo Broukhis, 28, who recently returned from a vacation in Israel that he spent almost entirely barefoot. We were joined by Mike Berrow, who heads up the East Bay barefoot hikers' club, and by Joe, who preferred not to give his last name but who, I noticed enviously, also had well- developed callouses. The rules of the club stipulated that I at least had to start off barefoot, though I could bring shoes if I felt I had to. I have some pride; I left my sneakers in the car. The sun-baked, gravelly parking lot was not an encouraging start, but it was short-lived. I was happy to enter a more shady trail covered in soft dirt, though frequent piles of horse droppings posed an ongoing hazard. "Eventually, over time, you'll be able to look up every now and again," says Lucas, stopping momentarily to pick a thorn out of the bottom of his foot. Berrow adds encouragingly: "Beginners, after 10 or 15 minutes, often stop interpreting sensations as painful, but view them as a massage." I don't know if I would go that far. I was happiest on the plain, soft dirt -- kids' stuff to my companions. "That soft trail is OK, but it's kind of boring," says Berrow, who noted that what he was really looking forward to was when the trails got wet. "This is a very easy trail. This is by no means a workout," adds Lucas, who showed off a bit by running over a sun-scorched stretch of gravel that was hotter than I like my showers. He admitted to a certain elitism. "Because you have thicker and tougher soles, you can do things other people can't," he says. "I can run over gravel without too much difficulty. Not too many people can do that." No. 1: Don't stare The etiquette on a barefoot hike is somewhat like at a nude beach: It's rude to stare. To my surprise, no one snickered about my feet. In fact, I received reassurances that being flat-footed was OK. "If you walk around and it doesn't hurt, don't worry about it," Lucas advises. Of course, as a barefooter, Lucas -- a software engineer in the Valley -- understands self-consciousness. When he was younger, he often thought about venturing out with his toes showing, but was held back. "There's this whole barefoot stigma sort of thing, because people look at you like you're weird or a bum," he says. "There's almost a barefoot closet. Before I came out of that closet, I was deathly afraid of running into people I knew." About a year ago, seeking connection with other barefoot enthusiasts, Lucas started the Dirty Sole Society, whose 85 or so members communicate on the Internet. Subjects on their news group, alt.lifestyle.barefoot, include "Walking on gravel ... on purpose," "Want to see feet? Go to college," "Barefoot in Southern California," and "How long till feet toughen." Lucas wrote a review of the Flintstones movie, whose characters may be the most famous barefooters around. He says the Internet has brought people together who otherwise may never have met, but adds that it can be trying to keep foot fetishists away. Sometimes they confuse his group with alt.sex.fetish.feet. Shortly after starting the Bare [sic] Sole Society, Lucas heard about a book by the founder of a Connecticut barefoot hiking club, Richard Frazine, called The Barefoot Hiker. He decided to take to the trails, though he had never been an avid hiker before. "It never held any interest for me, really, to do it with boots," he says. Now hooked, he shrugs off concerns about glass and thorns by pointing out that the kitchen is more dangerous than a trail, and "no one says wear a cooking glove." In terms of injuries, he notes that "I did break a toe once, but that was in my own apartment. I was running to catch the phone." My own experience was generally positive, though I somehow missed Lucas' offer to turn onto a shorter trail. Consequently, I ended up hiking close to five miles, and by the end, my ankles were sore and I was tired of keeping surveillance over pebbles. In some ways I felt more carefree in shoes, when I could look around at the trees. IF YOU'RE INTERESTED Lucas invites interested barefoot hikers to contact him via http://www.best.com/~pjl/. 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