An older (than me) lady was our guide at the MacGregor Ranch. She was actually acquainted with Muriel and her mother back in the old days. She said as a child, she and her mother would come to the ranch to buy eggs. Muriel's mother (I think it was) would be sitting in a rocking chair in the kitchen giving her the evil eye as if to say, "Don't you touch anything, little girl."
Now the lady says that every time she comes to work at the lodge, she picks up a teacup from the kitchen table, turns toward the rocking chair, and says, "Would you like a cup of tea?"
Just because she can.
Now, as we were getting ready to head back to the motel, this lady said, "Tomorrow you need to head on down that road (pointing) and go to the Glen Haven General Store. They make the best cinnamon rolls in the world!"
Cliff, pointing at me, said, "Oh no, she does."
However, the seed had been planted, so I looked up Glen Haven General Store on the Internet. They don't open until 9 o'clock in the morning. This was unfortunate, since Cliff and I had been arising by six in the morning and eating an early breakfast.
However, on Wednesday we managed to abstain from eating and headed off to Glen Haven (actually, when we programed the GPS, the address is Estes Park). We got there about ten minutes before they opened and sat there waiting impatiently.
The huge cinnamon rolls are almost four bucks each. Thank goodness the coffee was only a quarter, and it's the best coffee I've tasted, anywhere but at home.
From there we went to the Stanley Hotel (more in another entry) and then to the free Estes Park Museum. Then we went six miles to the Historic Fall River Hydroplant, where Cliff met his new best friend.
We were planning to head straight toward Missouri when we finished that tour, but Cliff and this man were soul mates and wouldn't stop chewing the fat. As we FINALLY were walking toward the car, this guy says, "Have you had dinner today?"
Well, no, we hadn't. That huge cinnamon roll had really stuck with us, although at 3 P.M. I figured I could eat something.
The guy insisted that we MUST NOT leave Estes Park without trying Smokin' Dave's Barbecue.
Seriously? We live near Kansas City, the birthplace of barbecue! But Cliff liked this guy, and I was getting hungry, so we got directions and headed downtown.
And that's why we got a late start heading home and ended up Wednesday evening in rush-hour Denver traffic, moving along at a snail's pace.
It was worth it.