Why I Took a Chance on Chacos
By: J.J. Starr
Tags: Travel, Gear Review, Gear, Hiking, Outdoors

Seven years ago I was faced with what to me seemed like a BIG buying decision: do I spend over $100 on a pair of sandals? I wouldn’t exactly call myself a “cheap” person, but I don’t like wasting money on something that doesn’t deliver. If I can find a hack and do it myself, even better. If I can’t hack it, I only shell out for name brand if that brand is offering me something I can’t find somewhere else cheaper.

(wait…am I cheap?)

Sandals, something I pick up once a year or every other year, were purchased at a shoe store that had the word “warehouse” in the title or at the same place I bought groceries and lotion. At least until I moved west and saw these sandals that had the same soles as my beloved Merrell hiking boots. They were kinda funny looking, but I also kinda loved their simple design. When I asked the girl wearing them what they were, she told me “Chacos.” I’m pretty sure I had to ask her how to spell it because this was news to me.

Someone’s ready to take in the world, by Andrew Neel on Unsplash

When I got home, I looked them up and immediately deflated. Why are these so expensive! I lamented out loud to my dog, who really didn’t care. For two years, I would dream about the purchase, but my mind was only focused on how their purchase price was “too extravagant.” Meanwhile, I kept spotting them on people, sometimes in the backwoods where I thought only boots would do. No, the wearer would reassure me when I’d inquire about whether the sandals could take such heavy use, they’re great.

By spring 2012, I had had enough pining. I wanted a pair for myself. I waffled back and forth between the classics: Z/1 and Z/2. They’re heavy duty sandals with a thick Vibram sole, and the main difference between them is that the 2 has a toe strap. In the midst of analysis paralysis, I got a text from a friend of mine who had spotted them ON SALE in the Gallatin Valley Mall.

For me, that was the sign to buy. I grabbed my keys and my dog — he loved car rides to town plus we could test them out on the way home — and bounded out the door for town.

An hour later I had two different pairs on my feet and was walking around the store, still waffling between toe strap/no toe strap. The toe strap felt supportive, but I have these small feet with fat toes and I was worried it wouldn’t be comfortable. I looked at them for about twenty minutes, which is when I noticed the clerk eyeing me. I smiled back awkwardly and realized it was time. I went with the toe strap.

On the way home, I took them for a four-mile hike up and down a ridge peak called Storm Castle— it’s on the Gallatin river and it’s really pretty. If you’re making travel plans for Bozeman, MT (you should, btw), it’s the perfect afternoon excursion. And it was the perfect test: semi-rocky with no scree, 1,850 ft elevation gain meaning some steep parts, and it offers such pretty views at the top.

I’ll admit: I was still skeptical. I was skeptical all the way to the top of the hike. Of course, my dog continued to not care because he had his own business to attend to. I was concerned about their support because they don’t offer much insurance for your ankles. I was also concerned about hurting my feet because they were exposed.

But my anxiety turned out to be completely unnecessary. The Chacos were great, and despite appearing to be “just a nice sandal” they provided the best arch support I have ever found in a shoe (I have those high arches that ache without support). I happily discovered that between the sole design, which cradles your heel, and the strap design, my ankles felt great. And I never once felt like they were shifting under my feet or about to fall off.

It was love at first hike. Soon we were going steady all summer. I summited mountains in them, took them boating, walked my dog around town. I got a Chaco tan that I was proud of, happily comparing it to the tan on other Chaco-lovers' feet. I bought a Chaco collar for my dog.

My feet and the late Jack Porkland’s paws

Now I was the person occasionally asked if my shoes were ‘safe enough’ or ‘supportive enough’ for the trails I was on, and I was effusive, enthusiastically saying “Yes, they’re great” while rolling my eyes as soon as I turned away.

After the first year, I decided to cut the toe strap off. They work for some people, in fact, my friend Sherri swears by them, but for me and my fatty toes, it wasn’t always comfortable. To my surprise, this did not compromise the shoe and I hiked in them from then on to this day, summiting mountains, fording streams, and walking my dog.

My feet in California, 4 years into #ChacoLiving

Of course, my hiking hours dwindled once I moved to New York City to pursue my MFA in poetry at New York University. But I still wore them to walk my dog around one of many amazing city parks, and there was nothing like slipping on my Chacos after a long day in heels. Now that I’m out of the city, I’m ready to take them out on the real trails again this spring, but:

Yeah, the soles are super worn down. Something I didn’t care about for urban hiking, but something quite necessary for hiking hiking. So, I’m getting them again! And while Chaco does offer repair for their sandals — in fact, these are designed to be repaired — I want to change my strap color as well, so I’m getting a fresh, new pair.

I’m not entirely sure what to do with the old ones, though. Maybe a nice shadow box? Place them in an altar? Let me know if you have a suggestion, and I’ll keep you updated. And don’t forget to clap this article if you enjoyed it!

P.S. I am not affiliated with Chaco except that I love them forever, and now our souls are tied.