CAMPFIRE BREAKFAST..well a good try anyways…

I’m an early riser. I take the early to bed and early to rise thing quite literally. Although of the three consequences of this, wealth and wisdom..I can only testify to the first.

Some of my most inspired thinking hits me after my second cup of coffee..say about the 4:30 mark. And around that time a couple of early morning’s ago, I was going thru some photos of our past trips to West Grand Lake, feeling sad that we would not be there this summer.  Part of that experience was of course eating campfire food, particularly breakfast.  So it was during one of these caffeine stimulated moments it came to me that even though we are not at Grand Lake Stream , a campfire breakfast is certainly not out of reach. Plus it would give me the opportunity to try out my new Coleman Coffee Percolator that was a Christmas gift to me from the Bailey’s of Searsmont, even though I didn’t receive it until April.  Christmas in April has a nice ring to it, eh?

It wasn’t long before I had the campfire started in our pit…

Normally our fires are reserved for the evenings but there is something really special about the morning fires. I mean one can ward off the morning chill as easily as the evening chill, is it not so? And could it not also be the smell of  bacon grease over an open flame?

    Relaxing by the warmth of the flames, I plan my strategy.

You see during our WG trips I am always out on the lake fishing for landlocks well before any of my companions have started to stir. And when I get back to camp, the coffee pot is on and breakfast has started cooking in the experienced hands of my wife Pat, in laws Deb and Mike and camp chef extraordinaire Rob.

When the fire is deemed just right, the coffee pot goes on and soon starts to perc it’s little heart out, steam rising into the cool, morning air. Anticipation….

A closeup reveals perhaps a bit of bubbling, brown liquid…
     And finally, a cup of wood fire inspired Joe, java, or in my case, muddy water. A bit weak perhaps but tasty just the same and served up in my favorite man’s cup with plenty of room for all four fingers.
     With the coffee pot resting comfortably and warmly on a hot stone, it’s time for the bacon, the cornerstone of camp fire cooking. And from the leavings of which ALL good things are made.
Now I’m not a huge egg eater(or small for that case either) but how could I not, considering the bubbling layer of bacon fat that had accumulated in my cast iron fry pan.
     And finally my camp fire breakfast is consummated, even though my egg was slightly over cooked.
     Perhaps next time the camp fire will be located on the shores of West Grand or some little island in Penobscot Bay. And better still, perhaps the next time breakfast will be cooked by someone who actually knows what they are doing.
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