If you're beginning to feel your hips or knees in different ways, or if you wish your balance was a little better, be sure to read this post. It's all about the many reasons a walking cane is completely UNcool (not to mention more damaging than helpful).
Here's an alternative - and one I can embrace with gusto. What could be more appropriate for an Omnicrone, after all?
In 1981 it was just a stick on the ground. On that New Year's Day, I decided to climb a mountain. I was down in the valley then, at Glencoe, where I was apprenticed to a sculptor and lived above his studio. The 'mountain' across the road is scarcely more than a molehill but to me, the newly imported flat-lander from West Texas, it would qualify as Mountain. And it seemed an appropriate way to mark the new year.
As I neared the top the way became steeper and the rocks looser and I began to look for a stick that could make it all easier to navigate. Low & behold, there was my new quarterstaff just lying on the ground waiting for me. And it seemed like a good idea to keep it.
Over the next weeks I stripped the bark off the top portion and used my pocket knife to make it smooth (without removing character). And I glued a small crystal into the tip.
The rest of my quarterstaff is still as it was; bark in tact and a nice little fork in the bottom. I had visions of maybe holding down a snake or other pesky something with that part, but there has never been the least inclination to do so. The only snakes I have ever seen here tend to be of the garden variety, and never threatening.
As evidence, here's the only one I've captured on film:
I don't know how long he was, since he didn't stretch out for me, but he was only about as big around as my pinky finger: a hiking pal, not a theat.
So my quarterstaff has been with me on every single hike I've taken in these mountains. Now that I know how tricky the traditional cane can be, I'll be using the staff if I ever need something for normal day-to-day maneuvering.
Thanks, Ronni and Dr. Bill.