Eventually we left the Coral beaches of Skye. It was hard. But my brother’s inclination toward highland frolicking led him to persuade my family that there was an easy shortcut to the path by bypassing the trail and going over the hills. I was fairly certain that what he proposed was incorrect, and while my family took off for the shortcut, I uncompromisingly took the path back. Boy, am I glad I did! My family discovered that bog can blend almost flawlessly into a hilltop, and by the time I was back at the car, my parents and brother were not half the distance there. My brother took the wrong step and had his shoe sucked off, and I can only imagine what it was like getting it back, but the rest of the walk was probably not fun, even putting aside the constant need to estimate where the ground would be sturdy and where it would provide only a very thick mud with grass growing on top. In the end, I ended up leaving the car, and very slowly met them half way, chided them, and led them back to the path. After stepping in that crap, I doubt my brother’s left shoe, or his left foot for that matter, will ever be the same. *

*This story is entirely true, providing you switch the places of me and my brother