Driving through Big Bend National Park from the east on Hwy 118, I was in the middle of Mars it seemed. Massive, jagged horizons through every open window, the rear view mirror was its own production. Through the Junctions: Maverick, Santa Elena, Basin, and Panther. To the park headquarters. Speed was kept appropriarely low, sundown was approaching, long shadows went on for miles, my eyes darted in every direction, my head exploded.
From the park headquarters, a humble rest stop with pamplets and the familiar brown sign of all national parks, I took Hwy 385 directly north to Marathon. 71 miles. It was a slow motion sundown most of the way until dark overwhelmed. I stopped to hear the silence, cut the engine. It was fly. The eastern half of the park would have to wait until next time, dinner was on my mind.
The 44 Farms Ribeye at The Gage Hotel in in Marathon was discussed by an Alpine local the previous afternoon at Harry's Tinaja. Only a few specific stops were planned on this loopy day trip around the Hook Of Texas, and this was one. However, the previous descriptions of this place failed to mention the completely renovated dining room, the fine art everywhere, or the first class staff, I was worried when the Maitre 'D asked me if I had a reservation. She scanned the chart and escorted me to a tucked away corner table, lit warmly by a cowskull wall lamp and set with thoughtfulness. The glistening medium rare 44 Farms Ribeye was served with hatch green chili cream corn, sautéed spinach, pastry butter rolls, a jalapeño margarita, and chocolate delight to finish; it was a meal from heaven, directly from God.