Mes Chaussures de Marche sont Mortes!

Oh my melancholy companions! We have seen much together. In many ways my adventures have been yours, for you were with me always. Without complaint you carried your share of the load and walked with me every step. The riverbeds and jungles of Thailand bothered you not. The ancient, muddy pathways and bitter cold of Athos you swept over without fuss. The rakish Rocky Mountains and the mighty Himalayas you trod with confidence. In cities we were masters together also. The towering jungles of New York, the sprawling urban London, the sun-drenched streets of Sydney all passed beneath you. You have left footprints in the earth, and in my memory they will never fade.

Yes, it is true, my boots have died. I love them like a part of my body. (cue mournful music)

My poor old boots! I am of half a mind to take you with me to the Camino and leave you there, perched in some high place to forever watch the comings and goings over the track you never got to walk with me.

Of course, this leaves me just over a month to break in my new pair - the solidly built Italian Scarpa boot.

There they are, the old and the new. To my new companions, may our adventures together be as long and as varied as your predecessor's. You have much to live up to, but I have great confidence in you.