There are a few incidents from yesterday's walk that were difficult to capture in pictures. Due to a recent heavy rain, and probably also due to the fact that this is Scotland, the trail was quite wet and muddy in several spots. These spots were sometimes several miles long.
The worst of these places of interminable dampness was a bog several miles long at the very end of the trail just before we got to Kirkmichael. Walking on this stuff was like walking on a muddy, lumpy sponge. We had just been talking about how when we were kids we used to be scared by the thought of quick sand when Kath attempted to jump over an especially nasty bit of bog. Note the word "attempted."
I was standing a few meters away from her looking for a "safe" crossing point when I heard her start yelling, "Kristie, I lost my shoe in the mud and I can't get it out. Come quick!" I looked over to see her bent over, yanking on her shoe like a crazed person. Then suddenly she realized all she had to do was grab the loop at the back of the shoe and give a good yank. No lasting damage was done, but there were a few bad moments when we were wondering exactly what the procedure was for getting help out on the moor.
This is Kirkmichael, the village we stayed at Saturday night. And yes, it really is as picturesque as it looks in the pictures.
The beginning of our walk this morning took us through the Scottish countryside.
The walk soon changed to this hauntingly beautiful scenery. Miles and miles of barren hillsides covered with heather, as we worked our way up and over a pass.
Finally, after hours winding our way through the heathery hills, we wound our way down to a small place called the Spittal of Glenshee where we each had a whiskey. And no, I am not making that up.
Right now I am writing this blog in front of the fire at our B&B while Kath is reading me some Robbie Burns. And I'm not making that up either.