I originally wrote the story below, in two parts, back in July 2023.
At the time, a series of unlikely coincidences happened.
About a month ago, I was out walking when a thought came to me that I really needed a new pair of walking boots. My old walking boots, more of a walking shoe really, had seen better days. The sole was beginning to show wear and tear, damaged from years of pounding the pavements and walking country paths.
I had put in the mileage on my footwear, and it was time for a new pair.
But I knew that a new pair of walking boots would not be cheap. A good quality walking boot, with a decent hard-wearing sole, is always likely to be expensive. The cheaper ones with softer tread on the sole never last that long. Over the years, I have had many, and they tend not to last. I must be a heavy walker. I certainly walk fast, which apparently is good for you but not so good for the boots.
The cheaper boots often look good, but as the saying goes, you get what you pay for, and I do like a bargain. Not so easy in these days with the rising cost of living. Mind you, I’ve always lived a fairly frugal life, and when it comes to footwear, I’ve usually managed to find a bargain — eventually. Typically, from a charity shop or a car boot sale (flea market in the USA), but I couldn’t rely on that happening this time.
Would my old walking boots endure until I found a bargain? The need for a new pair of boots was definitely on my mind.
And then something strange happened. Really strange.
A week or so later, I was on a trek to an appointment I had to keep. I had made the four-mile journey many times and could take several routes. In the end, I chose a route but then changed my mind when I was halfway there. A little further on I changed my mind again, deciding to take a scenic walk through open fields, finally reaching a road that I had not walked for many years.
It was there that I had my out-of-the-ordinary, strange experience.
I approached a bend in the road, and there on the grass verge was a pair of walking boots just lying there. They were about eight feet apart as if they had been thrown from a passing car. I picked them up expecting them to be worn down, tatty, old, and falling apart. That wasn’t the case. In fact, they seemed as good as new, just a little dusty. It was the kind of dust that boots pick up on a building site. They were in far better condition than the boots I was wearing.
I decided to take them with me. I would decide what to do with them after my appointment.
Meeting over, I walked home via a different route. On the way, I found a bench to sit on and decided to check out the boots. They were a good make, The North Face, and were in excellent condition. They didn’t even look as if they had been worn before. I put them on, not expecting them to fit, but remarkably, they were exactly my size. I walked the rest of the way home in them, about three miles.
They were the most comfortable walking boots that I had ever worn.
I later checked to find out how much they would have cost new. The price range for similar boots was around £100. I knew they were good quality, as the sole was of a harder tread. The type of boot that would last years.
It was as if they had been left in the road just for me.
As the saying goes, I had got lucky in my find, but perhaps it was something more.
Another coincidence that happened around that time was that I found a book in a local charity shop, titled The Secret, which had been very popular with those who believed in the idea of the law of attraction.
And then there was another coincidence.
A few days after I found my “new” walking boots, I was searching my book collection for something to read. I say ‘collection’; it’s not that large, perhaps two to three hundred books. They are the ones that have survived the years. Books that I have read, or am unlikely to read, I often give to charity shops.
Books can take up a lot of space.
When I was a young boy, a neighbour of mine had a large book collection, all in book cases that covered the walls of their house. They could have opened a bookshop. I wondered if I would ever have the same — not a bookshop, but a house with a room or a study with lots of books.
The answer has turned out to be no. The books I have are housed in different places, some on show, some stored away. Truth is, they are often neglected, but just occasionally, I would remember to pick one to read.
This time I settled for one that had been sitting in a pile of books, hidden away for so long they were gathering dust. It was in used condition, probably picked up at a charity shop or a car boot sale. It was a book that I had looked at many times and put down, never quite being in the mood to read it.
It was a book by the author Cheryl Strayed called Wild.
Part memoir and part travel adventure, it tells of her journey to walk the Pacific Coast Trail. I thought, It’s about time I read this, or at least a few chapters, to see if it is worth reading. I enjoy reading books by people who have faced a major challenge in life and done something different. The risk of adventure, taking a chance, the not knowing of what will happen next, and the trust that you have to believe that everything will turn out alright.
I settled down to read the book.
It begins with a prologue, something that you don’t see that often in books these days. A few pages long, but it stood out straight away. A prologue is written with the intention of telling part of the story that pulls the reader in.
A cliffhanger, so to speak.
Wild recalls a story of how she loses one of her walking boots over a cliff edge. In frustration, she then throws the other one away. The Pacific Coast walk is a long one, and with both boots gone, you are drawn into the story to see how she coped walking barefoot, or did she? I would have to read on to find out.
A cliffhanger in more ways than one.
But as I read the prologue, I also realised that of all the books I could have selected to read, I had picked one that, in the first pages, writes of a lost pair of boots.
Having just found a pair of walking boots that looked like they had been thrown away, I couldn’t help but think how strange life can be.
That was almost three years ago, and I still have the boots. Of course, they are now well-worn and seen better days, but I have walked many miles in them. I now mainly wear them when working on the garden.
As for the boots that replaced them, I found them in a charity shop that I rarely visit, still in their original box, as new.
They cost me £5.
And just a few weeks before, I was thinking to myself:
‘I really do need a new pair of boots.’
Photo by Ajeet Panesar on Unsplash
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