#Trek-Iceland*: my Ultimate gear Guide

The Crow GTX isn’t a light summer jogger, it’s a full-on alpine boot engineered in the Dolomites, where the mountains are sharp, the weather can be temperamental, and apparently pasta is part of the training plan. You can feel that heritage: rigid as a railroad tie, crampon compatible, and about as forgiving as a Catholic nun with a stopwatch. 

That rigidity though, is a blessing and a curse. On rocks, slippery slopes and steep terrain, your foot feels locked in, every step planted with authority. Strap on a pro crampon and it’s like the boot was born for it. But on long summer hikes? That lack of flex translates into fatigue. Every step is a stomp, and after a few hours, you’ll know it. 

Where they shine, Iceland before and after summer. When the soil has started to soak up the first season’s moisture and can turn into soggy red blóðleir (blood clay), these boots come alive. The full rubber wrap and the cut of the upper mean gravel, sludge, snow and muck stay out. Worst case, you’ll end up with just the top of your sock wet. Remember, this is why wool.

Build quality? Bombproof.

These boots feel like they were designed by pros for pros… and for people like me, who just keep showing up in bad weather. They’ll probably outlast me. If a nuke goes off, I’m convinced they’ll find the boot and foot perfectly intact, the rest of me? Poof, gone...

They’re warm, solid, waterproof just fine and the quality is off the charts. Even the laces (a ridiculous 220cm of them) haven’t once betrayed me. Easy enough to tie with gloves on, never once coming loose mid-hike, even when I’m bundled up like the Michelin Man in full winter kit. 

That’s a big deal, because not too long ago, before the Universe sent me Salewa, I was fumbling around with another “consumer” brand. Same conditions: layered up, winter gear, fingers clumsy in gloves and those laces would not stay tied. I’d stop, tie them. Hike, stop, tie again. At one point I just lost it, snarled them down in anger, tied a knot like I was anchoring a boat, and swore. After the hike, I was so furious I drove four hours down the east coast to Vík and bought a pair of Salewas on the spot.

The old boots? Back at camp I had to cut them open just to get them off and tossed them, almost in a fit, straight into the trash. Never looked back.

Salewa as a brand? I trust them. Their customer service is actually human, quick with advice and solutions, and everything I’ve owned,  from mitts to pants (and even Ghislaine’s gear) has held up. So good, in fact, I’ve developed the bad habit of buying two of everything I like. The Crow GTX is no exception. Bought one pair, went back for another. Ghislaine had to physically stop me from hoarding a second Salewa backpack. I snuck it in the house, she sent it back while I was in Switzerland. Fair.

Verdict:

The Salewa Crow GTX is heavy for summer, perfect for winter’s approach, and built to outlive your knees. They’re not for everyone, but if you’re heading into terrain where slipping isn’t an option, these boots will keep you upright, grumbling, and grateful.

The MTN Trainer Mid GTX is the Crow’s younger brother, not the runt of the litter, but the one who figured out how to loosen his belt without losing his edge. Same Salewa DNA: suede and fabric, Gore-Tex, Vibram sole, and those trademark laces long enough to lasso livestock. But where the Crow is rigid as a railroad tie, this one’s got just enough flex to let you hike without feeling like you’re marching in ski boots.

And thats what its about. On the trail, that little bit of forgiveness goes a long way. I dragged mine around the Aletsch Glacier in Switserland on a five-day hiking trip, six hours every single day of jagged rock, slushy snow, and one cliffside I’d prefer not to repeat. The Crows would have kept me locked in like a vise, but the Trainers gave me something I didn’t expect: comfort. Not pillow-soft, mall-walker comfort, but the kind that keeps your feet from staging a mutiny after hour five.

“Merrells? Great little workhorses. Light as air, priced so you don’t cry when they die, and half the special forces community swears by them. But on sharp volcanic rock or snowpack, they stay wet longer than you want, and you start wishing for the extra backbone the Salewas give you. They’re flip-flops you can run a marathon in, just not the shoes I trust when the mountain’s trying to shake me off its back.”

Don’t mistake “flexible” for “soft.” These still bite into gravel, slush, and snow like they mean it. Strap on crampons and they’ll hold their own, though they’re not quite the samurai-sword platform the Crow is. Think of it this way: the Crow is a hulking F-35, all stealth and brute power, built for war. The MTN Trainer Mid? It’s the F-18. Nimble, reliable, and still very capable of ruining your day if you’re on the wrong side of it.

Where it shines is summer into shoulder season, when trails are half-mud, half-ice, and entirely unpredictable. They’re light enough not to punish you on long hauls, but still protective enough to make you trust your footing on sharp rock or sketchy snowpack.

Verdict: The Crow is the boot I reach for when Iceland wants to throw me into the meat grinder. The MTN Trainer Mid GTX is the one I lace up when I don’t know what kind of day I’m walking into. If the Crow is a tank, this one’s a rally car. Both have their place.

And since nobody ever talks about it: yes, your boots will eventually smell like used kitty litter if you treat them wrong. Here’s the fix. First, air them out without the insole. If they’re soaked, dry them near a hotel heater, always to the side, never sole-down on the radiator unless you want the glue peeling off like old wallpaper. A couple sheets of newspaper underneath works too. For the swampiest cases, toss in those moisture bags meant for car dashboards. They’ll suck out the worst of it in a few hours. Pair that with balled-up newspaper, and the stink never sets in.

Final step? Once the shoe’s clean and dry, hit the inside with an anti-sweat deodorant, the heavy-duty 48-hour aluminum stuff you shouldn’t put on your body. 

Do that every so often and your boots will outlast the rest of your kit, even when they’re cosmetically trashed.