Past the Hogbacks on Utah 12
Twelve is the scenic byway that we took from Capitol Reef to Bryce Canyon. It is about 120 miles long and it took us all day to drive, with stops. It boasts passes up to 9600 feet in the Boulder Mountains and skirts in and out of the Dixie National Forest and the Grand Staircase Escalante, it passes through some of the roughest country in the US. It was the last portion ever to be mapped. One of the most interesting stretches is known as the hogbacks. There the road twists and turns, dives and climbs, all with steep cliffs on both sides.
We stopped at two state parks, Anasazi and Escalante Petrified Wood. The first was an excavated Native American village. The second one sported Jurassic era tree fossils. We had a great lunch at Anasazi and got postcards and souvenirs. We stopped at a lot of roadside overlooks, they added up and time passed.
Tobacco Curing Barn
One of our last stops along the Natchez Trace was this period tobacco barn. In it tobacco bandeliers were hung from the rafters to cure and dry. Although, website photos show it decked out with bundles of tobacco, there was only one still hanging when we were there. Anne posed her suspicion that kids might have stolen the rest, but I think that that is just the teacher in her blowing smoke.
I had a dentist appointment this morning, which meant that I had to drive out to far west county, or just east of Kansas City. On the highway out, I was treated to a spectacle. Rolling Thunder the Vietnam veterans motorcycle organization was passing through town, eastbound, heading towards our nation’s capitol and their Memorial Day appointment there this weekend. The police were treating them like a presidential motorcade. They had stopped traffic on all of the highway entrance ramps. The front of this parade was a phalanx of motorcycle cops, with lights flashing and sirens whirling. Their V-formation was similar to that used by Canada geese. Behind this tip were hundreds, nay thousands of other motorcyclists riding in a loose continuous stream that filled all three lanes and ran on for eight miles. At the very end was another bunch of motorcycle cops and three MODOT trucks, each sporting a large LED sign that I read in my rearview mirror, “Do Not Pass”. Saint Louis really does love its parades.
I enjoyed seeing the motorcycle version of Rolling Thunder. I’m not so sure how much I will like mother nature’s tonight. The weather system that has been roiling Texas and Oklahoma is scheduled to hit town tonight. The Blues hockey team is playing in town and they hope to clinch a Stanley Cup playoff berth for the first time in fifty years. Plus, the Cardinals are also playing in town tonight. We have dinner and a show at the Fox tonight, so it could all prove interesting.
Playing with My Food
When Comerciante Jose’s French croissants go bad… I can’t have my other breakfast dishes scarfing up my bacon. No, no, no this will not do, especially on a Saturday-Saturday. (When everyday is Saturday, you still sometimes have to differentiate the days of the week.) Otherwise, who knows what will eat all of your bacon and then where will you be? Without any bacon. D’oh!
Anyway, Saturday-Saturday is the day of the week that I usually fix Anne a special breakfast. Lately, I’ve substituted out toast in favor of Comerciante Jose’s French croissants. They require some forethought, because one needs to stay up all night kneading the dough. I usually do all four of them that come in a pack, so that we can again enjoy them on Sunday-Saturday.
I’ve been on a bit of an avocado toast tear of late, but today decided to mix it up with eggs and bacon. Ahhh… bacon. The eggs are mixed-up omelet style, with cheese (gorgonzola) and veggies (green onions and bell peppers), but I find it too much trouble to keep them all together and usually go with a scramble.
It is a rainy Saturday-Saturday and cold too. So, not exactly a good day to go out to play. Still, there is something guilt free about lounging around the house on a rainy day. The sun will come out tomorrow and I’ll get out then. Fiddle-dee-dee.