These shoes are thirteen years old. They have been to camps and trials from Flint, Michigan to Watersmeet in the UP. They have been from to Colorado and Wyoming to the Northwoods of Wisconsin. They have been from the Canadian Rockies to the Red River Gorge in Kentucky.
Last night, while doing some rigorous Christmas shopping, the soles of both shoes blew out. Seriously. I wondered if I was going to have to walk back to the car in stocking-feet. They were faithful companions. I should have named them. They lived in faithful anonymity, mostly in the dark floor of the closet, coming out from time-to-time to serve me in the most taxing situations. I will miss them. RIP Hiking Shoes.