Flip flops, baby booties, fashion pumps, high-end running shoes, low-end sneakers, work boots, rubber boots, gummy shoes and even a pair of flippers . . . it’s a list to rival the selection of many a shoe store. But this collection of soles won’t be found on a shelf. These shoes are part of a strange collection that’s been causing drivers and hikers in Almaguin to do a double-take for years.
The shoes are all nailed to the trunks of nearly a dozen trees lining Pickerel and Jack Lake Roads.
To some passersby the scene is comical, to others it’s eerie —where have all the shoe owners gone? The trees quickly become a backdrop for family vacation photographs for some visitors. To many, the sight is inspiring — or perhaps contagious is a better word — as they are drawn to shed their shoes and tack them up, adding to the footwear forest phenomenon.
The shoe trees are well known by locals. Say the words ‘shoe tree’ in the area and just about everyone will know exactly what you’re talking about. But no one can seem to pin down how or why this strange sight came to be.
Instead, the shoe trees breathe mystery, speculation, fond memories and romantic rumours into the local lore.
Cathy Still grew up just down the road from the trees and remembers them well. She figures the first pair of shoes was tacked up in the late 60s.
“I don’t know exactly why people put them up there,” she said. “Everybody seemed to just do it.” In fact, Still recalls nailing up a few pairs of her own. “My son’s baby shoes are up there.”
In her younger days, Still recalls backing a half ton truck up to the trees with some friends. They’d stood on the tailgate and attached an old pair of boots.
“Everyone who passes by takes a look. People put up their favorite pair of shoes, special pair of shoes, ‘didn’t want ‘em’ pair of shoes. There’s even a couple of nice pair of dress shoes up there,” laughed Still.
Area resident Bill Adams recalls a friend managed to put a pair of work boots way up high on one of the trees. “He stood up on his six-foot-six buddy’s shoulders and nailed ‘em up.”
Over the years, Adams’ four children have also added their footwear to the mosaic, which his family calls ‘Boot Hill.’ He’s not sure why it started either, though.
“Once it got going, it just kind of continued on.”
Sharron Smith, Still’s sister, suggested the shoe trees were “not so much a local thing.” Summer residents, particularly German tourists, thought that if you left your shoes behind you would likely come back one day, said Smith. It may have been a gesture of affection for the area and its people.
Sandy Zimmerman and her husband own Russ Haven Resort just down the road from the shoe trees. She tells a similar story of how it is often the tourists that nail a pair of shoes up as a tribute to a decent holiday.
“There’s even a pair of old ski boots up there,” said Zimmerman.
At first, people just nailed the shoes to dead trees, she explained. “Back then people were thinking.”
Strangely, these particular shoe trees are far from dead. In fact, the trees appear to be doing remarkably well and remain strong.
A quick web search reveals that shoe trees aren’t only to be found on the back roads of the Almaguin Highlands. “Currently at least 76 such shoe trees (exist) in the United States, and an undetermined number elsewhere,” reads one site. Web speculation points to the “tradition” originating in the 60s and 70s.
Yet the simple act of nailing up a pair of boots to a tree dates back much farther. In the early logging days, a dead man’s work boots were sometimes nailed to a tree, often along with a makeshift cross, in the aftermath of a tragic logging accident.
Some shoe trees have been created by people who simply hang their shoes from the branches of a roadside tree. Perhaps this is the “tree huggers” version, as it does less damage to the tree itself.
Think you want to snag a pair of shoes from the shoe trees as a memento? A traveller’s online log suggests if you do, you’ll be cursed — with what is unknown, maybe athlete’s foot or painful bunions? But it’s thought that the shoes hold the spirit of their previous owners.
Another traveller warns of a more earthly danger. “Watch for hornet’s nests, smelly old shoes attract hornets.”
Check out these trees, but please don’t start any new ones. Most shoe trees die due to the nails weakening their bark. Doesn’t seem a fair tradeoff.
A grove with sole-appeal
These shoes are part of a strange collection that’s been causing drivers and hikers in Almaguin to do a double-take for years.
User Comments
