Nakusp or Bust; or stop at the bakery for a donut

13 Aug 2018–Loaded up and off to meet our riding companion, Jon Girod, Rachelle and I rendezvoused at the local Shell station.  Did the route to Prineville for the millionth time with uneventful results, which is good.  Our first stop, a stop I was looking forward to with great anticipation, was brunch at Dayville Cafe, about 10 miles out of the way, but well worth the time.  We zoomed through John Day Fossil Bed National Monument, we had a late breakfast calling.

Through that big crack in the earth to delicious breakfast waiting for us, twist the throttle just a little bit more.  To….frustrating disappointment.  The bastards were closed for the second time in as many visits.  “Even the *&$%ing port-a-potty is closed,” Jon stated with about as much enthusiasm as an atheist at a mid-west country church revival.  We made the best of the situation, bought snacks at the general store, relaxed for a bit, and agreed on the strategy: food in Heppner.  That sounds like a great idea–kind of like a ticket on the Titanic.

We back-tracked, and then turned north on 19 toward Kimberly, riding through a barren canyon setting with green, eroding walls of rock.

Through Kimberly and right onto rt 207, put into the Umatilla Mountains, a divine–yes, spiritual–motorcycle track of 20-30 mph recommended switch backs and curves.   What a contrast of terrain, treed and undulating, with that just a few miles in our wake.  It wasn’t one hour/61 miles to Heppner from our failed Dayville breakfast, as Jon suggested, but more like 2+ hours of stomach growling conflicting emotion.  Starvation or exhilaration of the ride.

We finally arrived into this little agricultural hamlet in the valley of golden wheat-covered rolling hills and negotiated the busy street, if you count the dog crossing the road it must’ve had a truck or car every 15 minutes putting through the town’s main street.

“Bakery and Restaurant” that sounds very promising.  We sauntered in to this spacious establishment with unique art that included a black velvet horse painting.  It was rush hour here, being the third-party to take seats.

We ordered, and then Jon surveyed, or rather surreptitiously inspected the joint and made this report:

No ventilation.  No fire suppression equipment.  Cooking on two residential hotplates, probably bought at a garage sale.  Inadequate dishwashing system, only a residential sink.  Food, e.g., mayonnaise in plastic buckets on the floor.  And, the only evidence of the “Bakery” is a lone stale donut with buzzing fly in a sealed display case.  I laughed until I cried, his telling of that report.

Well, it certainly wasn’t fast food, but when our breakfast finally showed up, it was something that could only be made at home–truly delicious.

Here’s a picture of one of the pleasant employees at the Colt’s Cafe, Bakery & Restaurant, Jon is trying to sweet talk into a senior discount.

After a tough 200 miles on empty stomachs we setup in the park for a post meal cigar, and puppy petting.

Rachelle, trying to sneak one out.

The road from Heppner to Kennewick Air BNB is nothing but a straight away drag through farm lands and interstate.  We turned off I-82 at Finlay on a road that cut through a spent ground, remanence of a recent fire.  We arrived at our quaint destination hot, tired, and ready to relax, but were in the middle of nowhere.  So back into riding gear to get supplies for the evening.  I needed ice for whiskey, Rachelle wine, and Jon Sauerkraut for his Sausage.  The day ended with us finishing up our cigars in the dark.