A farewell to Vasque, but not to where they’ve taken me

The reasonings run together as the years barrel on, but at some point during my junior year of high school I managed to talk my folks into getting me a pair of Vasque Sundowner boots.

I didn’t have a place to really take them just yet. There was no big hike, no months-long break-in I was prepping for to make sure they felt just right when I finally put them on the trail.

I wanted them, though, because that’s what the people in the places I wanted to go were wearing. Put on the jersey and become the player, but for outdoor exploration.

I horribly underused them as work boots. I did eventually wear them on a three-day backpacking trip along the Cumberland Trail in eastern Tennessee a few years later, though they ultimately were lost in the ‘move out of the college house’ shuffle my junior year and were sadly never worn again.

The iconic Sundowner boot became the flagship for Vasque, a division of Red Wing Shoes that, sadly, is now merely a former division of Red Wing Shoes. Back in October it was announced that the Vasque brand would ‘sunset’ after three straight years of flat sales, with Gear Junkie noting that ‘consumers have shifted from traditional hiking activities to [a] broader set of casual outdoor activities, which resulted in a different product needs and requirements.’

Beginning back in 1964, Vasque began hawking boots for hiking activities, boots that were rough and rugged and durable – and heavy. The heavy-dutiness of them was a feature, not a bug. This was, after all, still an age of metal exo-frame backpacks carrying cans of beans to far-off campsites, when durability and hardiness ranked miles ahead of weight in importance on the trail.

The nascent ‘hiking industry’ that Vasque helped usher-in just so happened to coincide with The Wilderness Act of 1964, passed by congress and signed into law by President Johnson to establish the National Wilderness Preservation System networking over 800 federally protected areas, lands managed by the Bureau of Land Management, National Park Service, US Fish & Wildlife, and the US Forest Service.

Somewhat ironically, the designation of these lands as ‘wilderness’ actually took them from being unknown to tangible, and the tangibility of them intrigued more and more people to go have a look at what their protected public lands really were. Vasque, and its Sundowners, proliferated in that expansion.

I don’t know the last time I saw an exo-frame backpack on a trail. I don’t know the last time I saw, or even heard of someone packing canned foods on a multi-day backpacking trek. I also don’t know the last time I saw a pair of Sundowners on the trail, as the move towards ultralight gear and footwear seemingly passed Vasque’s flagship boot in the night.

They weren’t quick to adapt to the desires of modern hiking, even though they caught up in a way that appealed to me beyond just nostalgia. Back in 2017 I picked up a pair of their Grand Traverse shoes, a relatively lightweight approach shoe that had a firm sole and rubber toe, something more rugged than a pair of running shoes but significantly less bulky than ‘hiking boots.’ They became my go-to for all trail activities, climbing with me to the top of Huron Peak (14,012 feet), around the Buffalo Peaks Wilderness loop, up to Mystic Island Lake in Holy Cross Wilderness, and for some 37 miles around the Lost Creek Wilderness on an epic 3-day October journey.

When those finally bit the dust, I picked up a pair of their Breeze LT Low shoes in late 2019, and prepped those for a 7-day, 65 mile trek through the Grand Canyon. They were such a perfect fit for my style and on-trail needs that I grabbed a second pair in mid-2022 as the shoes I’d take on a 5-day, 45 mile trek up the Snake River and around Heart Lake in Yellowstone National Park.

I wore Vasque shoes to climb Wetterhorn Peak (14,021 feet) and Mount Sneffels (14,157 feet), and to descend into Coyote Gulch in Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument. It was actually in searching for the right size pair of their Juxt shoes earlier this month that I stumbled across the news that their brand had been discontinued by Red Wing, with only a limited bit of inventory still being dished out through their Irish Setter line until supplies ran out.

I bought a pair. I’d have picked up two pairs, if I could have found two pairs in my size. They’ve been the best combination of durability, mobility, and dependability I have found, and I have trusted their shoes to take me to some of the most far-flung places I’d ever dare to reach – the next being a 7-day, ~52 mile trip eastbound on Grand Canyon National Park’s Tonto Trail in March, entering down the South Bass Trail and exiting up Boucher Canyon.

Perhaps I am just dinosaur enough to have missed the boat passing us both in the dark. I long ago moved away from heavy hiking boots, but never quite made it to wearing the Altras, the Hokas, the Brooks trail runners for longer journeys. Maybe I’ve just stubbed my damn toes too many times to begin to trust something that lightweight. Or, perhaps I’m just too stubborn to give them a proper go, something Vasque may well have been in their design meetings, too – their futile attempts at creating shoes in that genre are no coincidence to their own demise.

You are forced to become forward-thinking if you’re truly going to tackle big backpacking trips. When’s the best time of year, what’s the weather like, what are ideal trail conditions, who can take off work when, who’s going to watch the kids, etc. I have researched enough to have about two-dozen weeklong treks I’d like to conquer, with the reality of the real world meaning it’ll take me a decade, at least, to get to them all. I’d never really sat down and told myself that I’d be wearing Vasque shoes on all those trips, but it was a convenience I assumed I’d always have the chance to make real.

Now, though, it looks like that won’t be a reality. As much as I love their shoes, beating them up for about two years is about all they’ll take. So, at some point in the not-too-distant future, I’m going to have to take a first step on a big trip in a shoe from someone I have not yet learned to trust.

Off into the sunset you go, Vasque. Or, rather, off to see the sun down.