I’ve found breakfast tastes to be highly universal. Early in the morning we enjoy calories: preferably in the form of grease, protein and starch. All a restaurant needs to do is make fluffy food that combines all three of those ingredients in wonderful quantities. I’ve also found that the Sunday breakfast crowd is fiercely loyal. If you have a favorite breakfast spot, you go there. If you have friends or family, you bring them. It’s true for La Note in Berkeley, I have no doubt it’s true for the Bear Town Restaurant in Evanston Wyoming and I can see it’s true at the Cedar Creek Restaurant as well.
The nights are still cold, especially at 8,200 feet. The coffee is cutting through my early groggyness after waking up with the sun. Once again I got the experience of waking up and getting acclimated to my picturesque surroundings pulling in to a campsite after midnight. Like a prairie dog emerging from his hole, I popped my head out of my tent and said, “Wow, that’s pretty!” (A mantra I find myself repeating frequently out here.) It was about that time that some hyperactive chipmunk started throwing pine cones at me. From the top of a tree 40 feet up, he dropped pine cone bombs down on me every few seconds until he had exhausted his armory. I've never seen anything like it. The entire barrage lasted about 8 minutes as I tried to disassemble my tent and guard my head. Bastard laughed at me the whole time.
Mr. Chipmunk, I hope they clearcut your mom’s house down.
The drive from Vernal to Cedar City was beautiful but uneventful. I was a bit let down by missing the dam tour (Heh! Putting dam in front of any noun never gets old) but was snapped out of that about 20 miles down the road when I rounded a corner and got this view.
Even Mr. Wishkins got out to enjoy it. He’s having a blast.
Pictures can’t accurately capture the massive amount of space out here. Like the redwoods, the landscape can only be truly appreciated in person.
Actually, that sounds incredibly selfish. Enjoy the photos.
My detour to Flaming Gorge meant that I would be on smaller highways and local routes for the daylight hours and hitting the interstate for high speed travel after the sun set. Perfect.
During the daylight, I was treated to huge vistas, cliffs and canyons cut by the erosion of petrified sand dunes, beautiful color contrasts, and long straight-aways where the road disappears into the horizon at a point. Everything out here has a western feel.
Sorry about the black and white. Sometimes that’s the best I can do. Oh and I liked this. Nestled into a beautiful canyon was, what Georgia Pacific called a “carbon power plant”. Uh… don’t you mean coal? Nonetheless, I thought it was cool in a very evil type of way. If I ever have a summer home on Cape Cod, I want it to look like this:
Breakfast is served. Spread across three plates are eggs, corned beef hash and buttermilk pancakes. I feel like it’s playtime in kindergarten and it’s my turn to select a toy before anyone else. Of course I go for the red hook and ladder fire truck. Y’all are suckers.
I’ll be back in a sec-. Wait! What the hell is that? An orange slice? Don’t you know this is Pancake Country! Get it out of here!
OK, now that that’s fixed. It’s breakfast time.
No comments:
Post a Comment