— As I write this it’s late, but not too late, so I can still say it was this morning’s sunrise breakfast. The menu consisted of a broken pop tart, a beef stick and two or three sips of ice cold water. I had eaten my banana in the car while driving across the valley in the dark; I washed it down with half a cup of lukewarm coffee. The service, self-service, was horrific. I think/hope it was a stick that somehow mixed in with my cinnamon toaster pastry. I sat on a rock that was a little too tall and had a slightly uncomfortable lump in an odd place. The tops of my ears were cold and I couldn’t feel the end of my pointy little nose. All things considered, the view, lighting and overall ambiance was sublime. I rate this breakfast spot 3 out of four stars and will be returning in the warmer weather.
An early morning in the high pass between the Providence and New York mountain ranges is a good place to watch for fog. Not fog as how we think of fog in a normal sense, but fog as when clouds roll over this pass. Bitter and brutally cold in the winter, strafing the ground with a crust of frost the clouds lay down and pick up as fast as they leave. Of course the wind moves it all, and not a gentle wind either. This is a wind so icy it twists one’s soul as it blows through. It is all worth it though–a different kind of solitude–you were the only one to see it and feel it.
