Across Continents

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Run for the hills

Fervoured debate. North Sea crude versus West Texas oil. I wasn’t sure what the point of the enthusiastic discussion was. But someone did mention that in the UK gasoline was ten times the cost in the US. Chose to ignore this, resisting the temptation to ask how they spent on health insurance. I was certain I had the better deal.

I’d wandered once more into McDonald’s. Felt a bit embarrassed. I’d seen Morgan Spurlock’s documentary Super Size Me. Even got a copy. But, in truth, it was the draw of the Scrumptious fruit & maple oatmeal and an Egg McMuffin. Less than 600 calories. And a coffee of course. Also do fairly healthy salads, provide you hold the dressing. But not for breakfast.

Comforted my conscience with the knowledge that this was an early morning meeting place for the retired. Tough old boys who’d bettered themselves. They usually bought only coffee. Small. But then one got himself a breakfast sandwich. Sparked a debated on the menu choices, value for money and quality of the food. I think I preferred oil.

My own breakfast finished, packed up my netbook and pocket book I’d been scribbling in, and left. The snows had begun to melt but, much more importantly, the highway was clear. And it had been gritted, perhaps salted as well. Time to run for the hills. Reposition at a campground about thirty miles east, at the base of the Emory Pass. Bit over eight thousand feet. Seven below tonight apparently…



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