Across the Great Java Desert. Sitting here cradling my first cup of coffee – strong, dark, most vital of the brown liquids – I recall that finding coffee – in particular, decent coffee – became one of the greatest challenges of the whole trip.

You must understand that M. and I like our coffee muy fuerte. Even when we lived in the northwest, that mecca of caffeine, what we made and drank for ourselves was noticably powerful stuff. Now, what we make at home for ourselves is probably twice as strong as what we can get at most places around our little town. As a result, we usually end up drinking coffee before we go out to breakfast, because for us local restaurant coffee might as well be hot water with brown crayon shavings added. Ah, the joy on those rare occasions when we find someplace that serves strong, tasty coffee!

Alas, the American open road is not, generally, a place where slap-you-upside-the-head strong coffee can be found. The beverage fashions of the coasts take years to diffuse inward to the vast, lo-caff interior. The "coffee" to be found in most roadside stopping points for weary travellers is a pale thing, easily mistaken for tea, tasting like water, and packing no wallop at all. And to make matters worse, much of the early part of our grand tour took place within the bounds of rural Utah, possibly the most un-caffeinated place in the lower 48. Getting any coffee, let alone decent coffee, could be a challenge. (Side note: a friend of ours happened to be stuck on campus at a conference at Brigham Young University for a period of several days, and they became so desperate for some kind of caffeine that they ended up swallowing Excedrin tablets as a replacement for coffee.)

What we would be in for became clear early on in the trip. We brought no coffee-making materials with us (part of our strict Anti-Bear Tempting Policy) and were thus dependant on what we could find locally. We steadily fell victim to caffeine withdrawal symptoms, such that by the time we left Bryce, I was wondering if I could stay awake enough for the rest of the day's drive. (The Bryce Canyon Lodge, despite its other fine qualities, makes weak coffee.) In desperation, we stopped at Ruby's Inn, a local landmark where we found huge crowds of French tourists doing touristy things. I thought, with all these Europeans around, there's got to be some espresso somewhere, and it turned out I was right. We got a table in the crowded dining room, M. and A. ordered lunch, and I ordered an Americano, stat. I greedily slurped it down and summoned the waiter again. "Another, please". I slurped that one down, too, ignoring the waiter's bemused face.

I think our caffeine dependencies waned over the course of the trip, such that by the latter stages we could get by on the brown water placed in front of us – at least I never had it so bad as that one morning. But now that we're back home and brewing our own, we've got that java monkey firmly replaced on our backs.

Hmmm. Haven't thrown in a trip photo yet... here's a preview of our next stop, Buckhorn Wash:

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Posted by David Fleck at 16 September 2006 11:02 AM