I had a wonderful scenic run from the rather tacky, but very well-located, tourist trap of West Yellowstone this morning. I am still at altitude and it was cool and intermittently rainy, so the roof had to remain up. I averaged a very respectable speed for my 275 mile run, which meant that I was in Missoula by just after 2pm. After taking my bags to my room, I headed off for a splendid late lunch, washed down with excellent cocktails.
I must have seemed supremely decadent to the well-dressed locals discussing business over their tables, but the waiting staff treated my order of afternoon booze as if it were perfectly normal, which I am pretty sure it wasn't.
I have had some bad food days of late. If West Yellowstone is capable of distinguishing itself culinarily, I didn't find where that goes on. You may recall that to get there I had endured a bad breakfast-and-nothing-else day.
The "complimentary" breakfasts in the roadside "inns" I am mostly using are self-served on plastic dishes. I am beginning to think the term means it's a "compliment" to call it breakfast, rather than that it's included in the price. So I was determined to eat a real meal today, prepared by a real chef and served on real plates. It was a delight and I feel much more myself for having eaten it.
I am sure Missoula has its attractions but I shall leave them to the morning. Life on the road is brilliant, but I am getting tired again. I think I shall spend this evening watching TV and generally behaving as if I were relaxing at home, the better to get back into motorised Lewis & Clark mode tomorrow.