Breakfast at the Tropic of Capricorn

I’m woken up by Mr W. suggesting that we head out for breakfast.  The thought of a good breakfast perked me up somewhat, despite the fact that I was awake at 5 am on a Saturday morning and I’m feeling a bit hungover from drinking too much wine at the footy club the night before (although I would never admit it).  So I hauled my seedy ass out of bed, showered and got dressed (leggins, leopard print tunic and denim vest, just in case you were wondering).  Mr W. raised his eyebrows at my attire (come on there were stilettos involved, I really didn’t see the problem) … but the thought of a good eggs benny and double skinny latte had lifted my mood beyond caring.

And so we set off to drive the 15km or so from Newman to Capricorn (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tropic_of_Capricorn) … the “Cappy” Roadhouse as it’s known around these parts.  The Cappy Roadhouse is a popular “trukkie stop” which also doubles as a restuarant and a pub.  And so in we go.  We are greeted by a typical roadhouse set up.  I checked out the menu on the counter … no eggs benny in sight.  I ordered bacon and eggs and Mr W. ordered the “Cappy Special” … which is basically everything.  I already had my sights on his hash browns.  I then proceeded to ask for a latte … before I knew it I was holding a yellow mug containing a teaspoon of instant coffee.  I could hear a voice in the back of my head “toughen up princess, you’re in the Pilbara now”.  Swallowing hard I took the mug and wandered over to the urn.  With my steaming mug of instant coffee … I stood there searching for the milk.  Hmmmm I stared blankly at the space next to the urn, hoping it would miraculously materialise.  A truckie happened to walk past at this point, so I asked him “excuse me, but do you know where I would find the milk?”.  He pointed at the bar fridge that I was standing in front of, before casually asking me “dye job?” (obviously referring to the fact that while I might be a brunette, he clearly thought I should be blonde).  I couldn’t help but chuckle at his quick wit.

And so, with my milky coffee in hand I headed into the restaurant section to find Mr W.  Now, I must admit, I was quite taken with the place.  There was a well stocked bar, pool table and lots of retro signs and paraphenalia from a time gone by.  I got my ass kicked at pool while we waited for our brekkie to arrive.  It was pretty cool, we had the whole place to ourselves.  Good music on the telly.  Good lord it took all my strength not to jump the bar and crack open a tinnie.

And then brekkie arrived … and what they put in front of me was waaaayyyy better than any eggs benny!!  You can check out the photos for yourself.  Whatever they do to that bacon works …

Mr W.'s "Cappy Special"

My bacon & eggs ... BEST bacon ever!

best cure for a hangover ... I'm not shy ... ate the entire thing! plus Mr W.'s hash browns ... YUM!

Now before I go, I have to share this next photo with you because it has provided me with endless hours of giggles.  When we finished brekkie, I noticed one of the girls was “setting” the table next to us … now all I have to do is find out what the hell I have to do to be a VIP at the Cappy Roadhouse Breakfast Table cos god knows even a princess needs to feel special once in a while.

Now, if you think the fun was over, you’re wrong.  A few kilometres down the road on the journey home, Mr W. started to slow down.  I was too busy facebooking to see what was going on, however was soon alerted to the fact that the road was being taken over by a herd of station cattle … excitement was a bit of an understatement … I had the camera out before they hit the bitchumen.  You can’t get anymore outback than this.

pp xx