Ever since I unlocked the ability to drive from Oakland to Jackson, WY one way on my own, I've felt invincible. It's really true what they say - I can do anything if I put my mind to it. And take a melatonin at 9pm the night before. And brew a cup of yerba mate for the morning. With this expanded radius, I decided to head to Salt Lake City for a week. The drive into the city was SO PRETTY as you're approaching the wall of mountains with the turquoise green lake to your right. I am and always will be a sucker for snow-capped mountains.
The first order of business after powering through 11hr on the road (including through some sleet/snow in Tahoe that almost made me want to turn back) is burger.
I'm talking v simple, ugly, handheld, basically Micky D's burger (but with fresher veg). Hires Big H didn't claim to be anything else though. The patty was really tasty with a nice crust, and the fries had some specific savory fried quality that made me briefly wonder if it was fried in animal fat (probs not though because they had veggie options and I'm just going to assume a separate fryer for tallow would be too much of a hassle). Anyways, it very well could be that I was starving after the drive, but either way, I couldn't resist eating it while walking back to the Airbnb. I'm sure I looked like a lady crossing the street while ripping the wrapper with my teeth and stuffing fries in my mouth.
Sunday was the only full day I had to myself without the dread of work presentation hanging over me. So I attempted to make the most of it by sleeping in and getting a late-ish start on brunch at Sweet Lake Biscuits + Limeade. Got the hoss sammich and a cucumber mint limeade to go because the place was bustling, and I had to get to REI to rent some snowshoes.
But not before eating half of my sammich in my car in the parking lot. Please ignore the girl who is spoonfeeding herself gravy in the driver's seat.
This was a good breakfast. The bacon was thick and probably my favorite part. The gravy was a little raw flour-y tasting, but the fried chicken made up for it. And all of it powered me through my attempt at snow shoeing.
Maybe I should've asked the REI dudes how to properly put on a snow shoe just to confirm I knew what I was doing. Because tying and adjusting and readjusting really slowed me down in the beginning there. I was self conscious of the park ranger lady who was stationed at the entrance to count how many people were hiking into Red Pine Lake trail and struggled until I was out of her sight before attempting to secure my snow shoes on properly. You'll be happy to know I figured it out eventually... after making my way up the first incline with one of the shoes slowly slipping off the whole time.
The other intrusive thought that entered my brain was that I set off on this venture without telling anyone, and as each solo man after solo man (and the occasional duo men) skied by me, my brain was like "okay, well this is where you die today."
As if it wasn't enough that I was woefully out of shape while trying to climb a mountain in the snow and had zero idea how to identify avalanche danger... But I only got lost once, and I promptly turned around when I approached some switchbacks that did not look manageable. Although in hindsight, I wish I powered through a little bit longer even if I knew I wasn't going to make it the full three miles to the lake. On my way out, I encountered a large group of men and women on their skis that gave me some semblance of comfort.
With sore ankles and tweaked hips, I made it back to my car where my limeade waited for me like a post workout Gatorade. It was super tart (in a good way if you're me and love cheek-puckering sour things), but that was probably because the giant crystals of raw sugar that they scoop into the drink isn't going to dissolve as readily in cold water. Not sure if this was intentional, but I kinda liked sucking up some sugar crystals to crunch on with each sip. It was like... American boba lol.
My consolation prize was an easier hike at the bottom of the mountains.. that still involved climbing a mountain. But one of those mountains that overlooks the town so that you know when and what you've accomplished.
My reward for that was a take out container of noodle soup from One More Noodle House that was remarkably delicious. I'm not hear to gatekeep authenticity, but the pork rib and sour mustard green soup was like home, and the fuqifeipian was the best I've had in awhile. So good that I texted Alicia a poem about it.
Also my most civil meal... eaten back at the Airbnb at a table while watching Falcon and Winter Soldier with Bertha the cat carefully watching over me.
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