Hungry . . . So Very Hungry . . . .

*** continued from previous post ***

After we have satisfied the needs of the bike, we cruise up the street looking for a place to eat. That cracker had done its best, but it was no match for the raw beauty of Canada. We were famished at 5:30, we were now bordering on insanely hungry. If we didn’t find food soon I might have to consider eating your Mother.

Now, it is at this point that I should explain that all of Stonekeep is spread along one road that nestles against the base of a mountain, crosses a bridge over the Columbia River, and picks up its journey on the distant side of the valley. What I'm trying to say is - it ain't that big. But it is sprinkled over about 3 miles in a long, U-shaped strip. Still, by Canadian standards this is Gotham.

We spot fast food - closed at 8 AM in the morning. There are pizza places, Greek restaurants, pubs galore. There are Delis. There are Steak Houses, Italian restaurants, and a couple of seafood joints. But - and this is a big one - nary a chain restaurant nor breakfast cafe to be seen. Thus begins, what Mom and I lovingly call the new vacation game of "Where in the Hell is somewhere to eat?" We never spoke of it, but visions of the night before sprang into our heads like ill-trained Golden Retrievers that had just horked down a bottle of Ritalin from frazzled little Jimmy's backpack.

After scooting up the road, then crossing the river, it became apparent that we had run out of town. There were scattered houses, and at one point we thought of just pulling up in random driveway, and knocking on the door. We were fairly sure that the residents of said house would be too polite to deny us a Poptart. Or, Eggs Benedict. Maybe Prime Rib, we wouldn't be choosy.

We'd wasted about 30 minutes on this little hunt, this early morning exercise in futility. Agitation spread over us like a spilled glass of whiskey at the dinner table. I tried not to think of our schedule, but I couldn't help it. Today was THE long day. No time for lolly-gagging.

Right about then I spot a sign for "Krakland's Tomb".

*** the journey continues tomorrow and comments are always welcome ***

It's not that I'm promoting cannibalism . . .

*** continued from previous post ***

So we took a short break before we entered, what I affectionately refer to as "The Great Brown".  It's that vast area of Eastern Washington beyond the Cascade mountains stretching almost to the city limits of Spokane.  Semi-arid.  Basically flat, empty, rocky, and save for a brief period in spring - brown.  Brown as an environmentalist's lawn in July.  Brown as a eco-friendly naturally-died macrame hanger.  Brown as a Charlie.  Here the freeway is straight, and flat, and goes on forever and ever and ever and a bit further than that.  The traffic was light and everyone was behaving themselves.

  

That is to say that the next 100 miles was, no other way to put it, dead-on boring.  Bang your head against the handlebars boring.  Nothing to do but set the cruise control on the Vision and practice my mad skills of riding without hands.  It's an amazing sight and one that never fails to get a reaction from the people on the road.  I'm not sure your Mom appreciates this particular talent.  She doesn't say anything, but I can infer much from the screaming and the pounding of fists and the raking of the nails on my exposed neck as I stretch my arms out to the side like wings and make airplane noises.

"Rrrrrrooooooooommmmmmmm!!!!   Zzzzrooooooooooommmmm!!!!"

"Eeeeeeeiiiiiieeeeeee!!!!", your Mother would respond. Bam.  Bam. Bambambambambambambambam!  

"Whhooooooosssssshhhhhhhh!!!"  "VvvvvvvrrrrrrrooooooooommMMMMM!!!"

"Aaaiiieeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!"  Bambambambambambambam.

So as you can see, we found a way to entertain ourselves.  Remember Amber, the secret to life is making your own joy no matter what the situation.

            We finally reach the town of Ritzville, where we will leave our eastern heading and turn north towards Canada.  Here we will pull off the "slab", as the freeway is referred to in the biking community, to give ourselves a much needed break and a bite to eat.  For some reason, my upper back and neck was a little sore and Mom said her arms and fists were killing her.  You just never know what muscles you use when you ride.  We saw a sign that proclaimed - and quite succiently I thought - "EATS!"  This was the place for us.  I appreciate advertising that doesn't beat around the bush.  There was no mystery here.  No 'TJ McDoolde Hackers'.  No 'Peach Tree', which, contrary to its name offers neither peaches NOR trees on its menu.  Or 'Cannibal Jacks' which I won't even get into here but take my word was quite a disappointment.  And despite what my lawyer said, I still think is open to a lawsuit for false advertising.  Plus, the staff is quite testy and uncooperative. 

*** the journey continues tomorrow ***