Ahh, the spatula. Let us not disregard this fine utensil. How beautifully it removes the pancake batter from the bottom of the bowl, and how marvelously it can disengage a piece of toast stuck in the toaster. Let us also not forget its due place in world history. Archaeologists teach us that pharaohs were buried with their favorite spatulas so that could enjoy buttermilk pancakes in the afterlife. And Napoleon? That whole thing he did with his hand in his coat? He was holding onto his lucky spatula:
I wonder about the word spatula. The word spatula, known in English since 1525, is a diminutive form of the Latin term spatha, which means a broad sword or a flat piece of wood and is also the origin of the the word spade (digging tool). Huh? This is not so important as the inherent comedic value of the sound of the word itself. Say it over and over. Go on, try it. It's quite therapeutic.
In 1983 I spent a Summer working in the Santa Cruz Mountains at a camp for kids with Downs Syndrome. These gentle-spirited souls taught me more about life than my college professors. On one of our theme nights, the campers in my cabin wanted to carry spatulas and march around the mess hall chanting "spatula, cha cha cha, spatula cha cha cha." They waved the spatulas over their heads and all wore aprons. As their counselor I was obliged to join them. All the other campers jumped to their feet and paraded around the hall with us. The entire camp soon spontaneously formed a giant circle, held hands and rushed into the center then rushed backwards like one of those Italian tarantella dances you do at weddings when everyone had too much champagne.
I wonder about spatula-shaped mountains. Consider Banner Peak in the Sierras:
Or how about this distant peak, Hozomeen Mountain, seen when looking East from Whatcom Pass in the Cascades:
Or Cuernos del Paine in Chile:
And finally, some honorable mentions, which technically are not mountains, though they are spatulaesque in their own subtle ways:
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