I figure the guy who first muttered “Life is about the journey” was having an ale at the only pub near the little inn he was staying at that night, consoling, convincing himself after a hard days travel, still far away from where he wanted to be.
The way I see it, there’s four important parts in a journey: where you are, where you’re going, the bag you’ve got, and the boots you wear. Only one of these really matter—where you’re at right now—but the other three count for something too. Where you’re going gives you something to work towards. An idea that pushes society, culture, people forward. Your contribution. Your bag and what’s in it helps you get there. The jacket that’s your shelter from the elements, the book that keeps you safe from loneliness, and the notebook that protects you from your self. They’re in your bag and everywhere you go are a reminder of the physical weight of anything but ideas and conversation.
But your boots, they feel the weight of every step. They feel the renewal of a walk in the spring’s fresh grass, the joyful lightness as you dance, scuffing up your neighbor’s kitchen floor. Your boots are what grounds you to this earth and the world’s your beat.
Where am I? In front of a keyboard, this friend that has so humbly taken a beating yet has pulled words out of me I didn’t know I had. Where am I going? I only wish I knew. My bag is a GR1 and I wear 1000 Mile boots.
1000 miles is a long journey and long journeys need good companions. These boots, so comfortable and durable, the ad in the 1920’s Successful Farming magazine says, they’ll last you “1000 miles of wear.” There’s an elegance in the construction of these boots that make you want to take them on travels with you—an adaptable style that feels rugged yet can be cleaned up to look great with a sport coat. On a long journey, you’re going to be a lot of different places and your boots need to fit in like you do.
A good horse hair brush, some boot LP, and a little love and these boots will keep their form and stand up to a lot. But life’s hard and life’s hard on your boots so eventually down the road they’ll need a bit of work. Nothing goes unbroken on life’s travels. You’ll probably break down more often than your boots will. You’ll need a friend, a drink, a talking to to pick you up and get you back on the road but with wear comes tear and 1000 miles does a lot to the soles of your boots. But good engineering means they’re built to be rebuilt and a good cobbler, like your friend and a beer, can craft a new sole and you’re back on the road for a few more miles.
A few more miles lead to a few more and soon you’re in a place that’s hard to recognize. Everything starts showing that mileage. We can see how it wears on us but 1000 miles is hard to grasp. The trip out west and back will put about 4000 miles on you and your heart, something that was a lot harder to do in 1920. These boots haven’t made that trip with me yet but the rest of me still carries those miles in a lot of ways.
These boots have seen a Boston fall with a chill so deep the leaves that lingered stood no chance against the winter that crept so closely. They felt that winter which came soon after the last leaves left us, harsh and unforgiving. Digging out of snowbanks in Montreal and the longest of long winters New York City has felt. These boots saw that same winter slowly retreating, loosening it’s grasp on Minnesota and then the cherry blossoms in Washington this spring, exploding to celebrate a great defeat, a rebirth of the season.
There’s a lot of stories in 1000 miles if you just listen to the road and don’t mind getting your boots a little dirty.