In Loving Memory of “These Boots”
2012 to 2024 RIP My Hiking Boots.
“Strong, durable, and comfortable on any trail,” declared MEC. And for once, the marketing department didn’t lie.
After a 12-year career of loyal service, These Boots took their final step in the cobbled streets of Casco Viejo, Panama City. Succumbing not to time, but to the cruel inevitability of sole separation and suspicious smells.
Their journey was nothing short of heroic.
Purchased by an optimistic 20-something-year-old preparing for her first Trufflepig research trip, These Boots had no idea what lay ahead. They were clean. They were smug. They had never even been south of the equator. But they were about to get broken in — fast.
Their first real mission: Ecuador. From cloud forest hikes thick with mud to volcanic vistas and the Galápagos’ lumpy lava trails, These Boots proved themselves early. Sure, they were never entirely dry, but they were dependable, grippy, and always stylishly caked in mystery dirt.
Ecuador was only the beginning.
Over the years, These Boots roamed further than most passports. They braved the Atacama Desert’s cracked earth and later the frozen breath of Patagonia. In the Peruvian Amazon, they squelched through the jungle, only slightly offended by the humidity. They scaled the lesser-known ruins of Wakrapukara, bravely surviving a high-altitude sleepover.
In Brazil’s Lencois Marahenses they first felt sand in places no boot should. This was merely foreshadowing for the full exfoliation they’d receive years later in Morocco’s Sahara Desert.
They strutted fashionably across Argentina’s Perito Moreno glacier, proudly laced through crampons — the stilettos of the hiking world. Then on to the mountains of El Chaltén, ever the show-off.
These Boots roamed the lush rainforests of Costa Rica, up volcanoes and along vacant beaches, collecting stories in every muddy step.
It was in the highlands of Guatemala that These Boots danced between volcanoes, remote villages and jungle ruins. They camped along Lake Atitlan and pedaled down dusty mountain bike trails without fuss.
In Canada’s Yukon, they carried food, tents, and tired souls across Tombstone Territorial Park. Heavy loads were no match for their reinforced soles and quiet determination.
Horseback riding? Oh yes. These Boots herd cows and ride with cowboys across the plains of Colombia’s Los Llanos region and with gauchos in the pampas of Chile, Argentina, and Uruguay. They may not have been designed for stirrups, but did they complain? Only a little.
But if These Boots had a happy place, it was the backcountry canoe routes of Algonquin Park. There, they trudged faithfully through ankle deep muck, shouldered portage packs with pride, and toasted quietly by the fire each evening.
Their final adventure was in Panama; from the misty cloud forests of Boquete to the raw beaches of the Chiriquí Coast, and finally, to their graceful collapse in Casco Viejo. It was an ending worthy of their legacy, dramatic, scenic, and vaguely sweaty.
These Boots are survived by Victoria, who is now in the market for a new pair of hiking shoes. Recommendations welcomed. Must be affordable, adventurous, and emotionally prepared to live in a backpack.
