A MILE IN HIS SHOES BORON MAN A WALKING ENIGMA BORON MAN TALKS IT AS HE WALKS IT.

Byline: Angela M. Lemire Staff Writer

BORON - There's no mistaking the footprints left behind by ``Walking George.''

For nearly a half-century, size 14EEE hiking boots have carried 80- year-old George W. Swain - Boron's most famous homeless man - over thousands of miles of dusty High Desert trails, on jet-setting excursions to European opera houses, hikes among Peru's ancient Mayan ruins and railway trips throughout North America.

But he has always returned to sleepy Boron, where he moved in April 1944 to work as a chemist for Borax.

Boron's 2,000 residents know George best for his daily walks to the town's one-room storefront library and his ritualistic recycling of litter from ghostly streets and abandoned lots.

Children have dubbed him ``Walking George,'' while adults whose ears he has bent with topics from nature conservation to atheism and classical music have spun off the nickname ``Talking George.''

``Why drive when you can leave the driving to us?'' he said, the Greyhound bus slogan pretty much summing up George's life.

George paused only briefly to let a smile ripple to the outer edges of his cheeks, now sunken and covered with sunspots.

Hunching his lanky, 5-foot-10 frame forward onto his elbow and lowering his voice, he jabbed his forefinger into the air and added, ``I am not only terribly concerned about the horrible intrusion and impact that modern vehicles are causing everywhere - and I mean everywhere - I have never wanted to be at the mercy of an unscrupulous auto mechanic.''

He leaned back, satisfied.

He would later explain that simply having the same post office box - No. 531 - and address for 55 years was good reason enough to stay put in Boron - despite his wanderlust, his near-weekly jaunts down to Los Angeles for fine dining and the Philharmonic, and his family in San Jose, where he grew up.

Boron - home to Borax for the last century - enables him to engage in his favorite activity, hiking. And by hopping a bus to major transportation hubs such as Los Angeles or Bakersfield, he can travel anywhere in the world.

``I have a certain kind of freedom here that's part of my balanced diet. The other balance of my diet is the city.''

George has managed to stay in the desert without buying or renting a home since 1944. It was easy until 1961, because Borax provided workers free cabins near desert mines that yielded boron, a mineral that is crucial to plastics production.

George didn't leave the Borax cabins until 1993, though he had retired seven years earlier.

Between getaways, he continued working for Borax and quietly stayed in the company's abandoned cabins or, in colder weather, at the Boron Motel. Since 1993, he has either stayed at the motel or filled in as a house-sitter for friends.

But a sit-down conversation with George reveals other dichotomies and a no-bones-about-it frankness that, ironically, makes him more mysterious with every new revelation.

For one thing, he calls himself a ``church-going atheist.''

George does not believe in a single creator, but attends Bible classes at the local Baptist church every Sunday. He also plays piano and sings bass in the choir at St. Joseph's Catholic Church.

``George is very unique, very interesting,'' said Boron First Baptist Church Pastor Richard Seymour, who happened by in his car one recent afternoon and pulled over to greet George.

The pastor's eyebrows arched as he smiled and added, ``He's the original argument that you can't judge a book by its cover.''

Another apparent contradiction that George explains away with practical, sound reasoning is his relationship with women.

An only child and self-described loner, more so throughout his first 30 years of life, George never settled down. He has opted for ``paid professional'' female companionship.

Yes, George freely shares that, in his shy, younger years, he frequented prostitutes.

He had sex with some.

Others he took on desert hikes.

George never wanted the emotional and financial ties of romantic relationships, nor did he ever want to bring a child into an already overpopulated world that was rapidly depleting its natural resources and destroying other species, he said.

In the 1970s, he discovered legal ``dime-a-dance'' dance halls in Los Angeles, where men paid to dance with women (under strict supervision). Since then, the dance halls have consumed his social life and he continues to date women he has met there.

Few people in town would argue that George gives folks plenty to think about.

``People here adore him,'' said Lee Williams, Boron's town librarian. ``He's sort of our resident reader. He's here every day. He's knowledgeable about a whole lot of stuff. He'll tell you about anything.''

Wendell Lesher, a former military radar operator who has lived in Boron since 1963, knows George from the local Veterans of Foreign Wars post.

``He used to teach piano to all the kids in Boron. You can still see him play down at the church,'' Lesher said. ``And not many people get their boots in the town museum.''

Indeed, George has earned a place in Boron's cottage-size museum, where his scuffed-up pair of bowed, clownlike hiking boots is preserved alongside aerospace memorabilia from neighboring Edwards Air Force Base.

During a recent tour of his stomping ground, George rifled through P.O. Box 531, reveling in correspondence from the Sierra Club. ``I enjoy the publicity,'' he says.

From a person who has chased solitude a good part of his life, the remark comes as surprise.

But this is Walking/Talking George. And his actions, thoughts and attitudes eventually seem to mesh with his most basic philosophy of life.

``There's no beginning and no end. There's minus infinity and plus infinity,'' George said. ``There's some things you can understand and some things you can't. Science will continue to unveil secrets and, for every one of those questions answered, people will pose more questions.''

CAPTION(S):

7 photos

Photo:

(1 -- 2 -- color) George Swain, known around Boron as ``Walking George,'' lives up to his nickname as he heads into the desert. At top, the 80-year-old George puts some thought into recalling one of the many stories of his adventures in the desert.

David R. Crane/Staff Photographer

(3 -- color) George Swain, known to many as ``Walking George,'' takes a break from his travels atop one of the bluffs near the Borax plant where he worked for much of his life.

(4 -- color) ``Walking George'' heads back to Boron after a desert hike. The former chemist now spends his days hiking, collecting recyclables and sharing his insights with anyone who is interested

(5 --color) George jokes around with a member of the congregation after the service at St. Joseph's Catholic Church. He calls himself a ``church- going atheist.''

(6 -- color) The intrepid George is on familiar turf as he embarks on yet another of his frequent sojourns into desert country.

(7 -- color) With his bag of of recyclables in hand, George stops to greet a canine pal along his hiking route.

Photos by David R. Crane/Staff Photographer