THE CARE OF BLISTERED FEET.
Much suffering and discomfort are experienced by the novice on
snowshoe tramps by the want of knowledge as to how to care for and
protect the feet from blistering.
The toes are the parts that suffer most from the friction of the
cross snowshoe strings that are continually see-sawing the front part
of the moccasin, and many, from an erroneous idea of cause and
effect, pile on extra socks, thinking thereby to prevent the
blistering by the thickness of their foot padding.
During my first years in the Hudson Bay service I suffered like any
other new "hitter" of the long trail, but once started on the tramp
there was no giving in. Places being hundreds of miles apart, there
were no houses nor any place to stop and say, "I can go no further."
On a journey of seven, eight or ten days, we took probably one day's
extra provisions, but no more, therefore be the back lame through the
heavy bundle it had to support day after day, or our every toe
blistered to the bone, walk on we must and did. I have often seen the
blood appear on my moccasins, working its way through three or four
pairs of socks and become so dried and caked that before the shoes
could be removed at the night's camp-fire, warm water had to be
poured freely upon the moccasin to release the foot.
The agony at such times was past explaining. It was quite a work to
patch up each separate toe with balsam gum and rag before turning in
for the night, and yet stiff, swollen and sore, these poor feet had
to have the large heavy snowshoes suspended to them next morning and
the weary tramp continued as on the previous day.
Our guides, the Indians, did not suffer, as their feet were hardened
from childhood, and as an Indian never gives advice nor offers to
relieve his companion's load without being asked, we, the unfortunate
greenhorns, were compelled to trudge on in the wake of our pace-maker
as well as we could.
Of course I tried by all manner of changes in footwear to alleviate
the trouble by taking off some thickness of socks and by putting on
extra ones, all to no avail. Trip after trip, and year after year, I
suffered with cut toes and blistered feet. By good fortune, I think
it was my fifth year in the country, I was ordered from St. Lawrence
posts to meet a winter packet party from Hudson's Bay. A certain lake
on the divide was arranged for in the autumn as the meeting place of
the two parties. The packeters from Hudson's Bay were to leave on the
3d of January and had a journey ahead of them of 325 miles. My party,
two Indians and self, left on the 6th of January, having 55 miles
less to travel, or 270 miles. Our day's tramps were so similar in
length that we arrived at the rendezvous within four hours of each
other.
One of the party from the bay was a Scotch half-breed, and from him,
for the first time, I learned the art of caring properly for the
feet. He made me cast aside all my woolen knitted socks, and out of
his abundance he supplied me with smoked fawn-skin socks, ankle high,
made in the fashion of a moccasin, only with no tops or welts of
seams. The top and bottom pieces of leather were herring-boned
together, a slit was made in the top half to insert the foot and this
was put on the bare foot. On top of this two other shoe socks, made
of duffle or blanketing, were placed and the moose skin moccasin over
all, the leather top of which was tied about the naked ankle.
I ventured to opine that I would possibly be cold there, or freeze,
but my new friend told me the object was to keep the feet from over
heating. "And this and the knitted socks is the cause of all your
suffering."
"Now listen to me," he went on; "at every noon day fire, or in fact
any time a lengthened halt is called, sit on the brush before the
fire and take off both moccasins and all your socks, turn them inside
out and beat them on a stick or the brush to take out all the creases
the feet have made. Let them cool wrong side out and while this is
taking place, have your feet also cooling. Let them become thoroughly
cold before replacing your socks and shoes and when doing this put
those that were on the right foot on to the left, and vice versa.
This affords a wonderful relief to the tired feet and you resume the
journey with a rested feeling. At night, after the last pipe is
smoked and you are about turning in to get what sleep you can with no
roof to cover you but the far-off heavens, then turn up your pants to
the knee and jump, bare-footed and bare-legged into the nearby snow
and stand in it until you can bear it no longer, then stand near the
blazing camp-fire and with a coarse towel, or bag, rub the legs and
feet well until the blood is tingling, and the color of your lower
extremities resembles a boiled lobster, and my word for it, you will
rest better, sleep sounder and arise refreshed--what you never
enjoyed before."
Fitted out as I was and following his advice of the snow bath, I made
the return journey with ease and pleasure. I made long tramps for
twenty years following and never again was I troubled by either
blisters or cut feet. Even making short trips about the post hunting,
I never allowed a knitted sock near my feet.