Just a couple more things.......

We're driving home from Heathrow (in our tiny car!) and at junction 29 just before the Exeter exit, there's a flashing sign telling us that animals are on the road. We expected at least bison or elk.
And we got home to an email from the amazing and wonderful people at Mega Mountain Magic - they found my camera and are going to post it to me. God bless America!

Every picture tells a story

August 24
I'm trying to tell myself that rather than abandoning my camera to the elements, I have left a little bit of my soul there in the forest and that’s making me feel better.

We had breakfast at the famous Golden Burro then drove into Georgetown, a very pretty old mining town, now relying on tourists. We went on the narrow gauge railway on a diesel train through the mountains which was great – it doesn’t matter how old you are! Then we explored the town and Steve, having had three weeks and umpteen opportunities to do this, bought an antler so that he can hang up his cowboy hats in the hall at home. This meant we had to take our suitcases out of the car and re-pack them out on the road, in case it would count as a sharp weapon if it went into hand baggage - just as it started to rain.

With heavy hearts we drove to Denver Airport. The deal with the rent-a-hearse was that it be returned with an empty tank. Steve stopped three times during the 70 mile journey to put $2 worth of petrol in each time. It felt so strange to see heavy traffic and skyscrapers after empty roads and mountains.

Last Lap at Leadville

August 23
Off and on through the night I heard the sound of ambulance sirens and clapping and cheers as runners reached the finishing line, and when we went out for breakfast they still continued to stagger in. Anyone who did the 100 miles within 30 hours got a medal. It seems no one was running for charity.

We stuck around Leadville today as it’s a great town and there’s lots to do. We visited the cemetery – where Texas Jack is buried and explored all the abandoned mining ghost towns on the outskirts which were very atmospheric. We had a tour of the shack where Baby Doe lived out her last 35 years in poverty after an adult life of privilege and riches. In the afternoon we had a glorious “horseback” ride in the San Isabel Forest. When we got back I realised that my camera must have fallen out of my pocket which is a shame as it will probably be eaten by a bear now.

Visiting the Doc

August 22
We took the scenic route to Leadville, stopping off at Glenwood Springs. Not many people know this, but beneath Steve’s academic exterior beats the heart of a cowboy, and that’s why, once there, we walked for a mile along a rough track in 93 degs to get to the Pioneer Cemetery where Doc Holliday and Kid Curry are buried. We’ve always enjoyed a good cemetery and there are a few photos here.

The Doc’s grave wasn’t quite up to Jim Morrison’s at Pere Lachaise but people had very thoughtfully placed cigars, a good poker hand, coins, a miniature bottle of Jack Daniels (empty) and, best of all, an array of false moustaches. If you zoom in on the pic you might see better. The Doc’s last words were “This is funny.” That’s because he died in bed, not by a gunman’s bullet.


Then we went on to Aspen which was great and a cultural mix as not only was there a huge selection of designer shops in Western-style buildings and an abundance of bling and facelifts, it was Renewable Energy Day so there was live music, a farmers’ and craft market and head massage opportunities. We had lunch in an authentic ‘50s diner so we covered several options in a couple of hours.

The drive on to Leadville took us through the White River National Forest, where we stopped off at the grottos and ended up at the Top of the Rockies where the weather was a great deal cooler and we saw snow again. Hard to believe that just 24 hours before it was so hot I could hardly put one foot in front of the other.

The Tunnel of Love
Leadville, 2 miles above sea level, is an old Victorian silver mining town, still with a great feeling of authenticity, and we are staying in the whole of the top floor of the Governor’s Mansion which was built and owned by Jesse F McDonald, mayor of Leadville and Governor of Colorado. That green-coloured house next door was a brothel. In the 1880s Leadville had 120 saloons and 188 gambling houses so I doubt it was the only brothel in town but this one was linked by an underground tunnel to the Governor’s Mansion.

Doc Holliday lived in Leadville and had his last shoot-out here. Harry Houdini, Oscar Wilde and Sarah Bernhardt performed at Leadville's Tabor Opera House. Oscar Wilde’s lecture to an audience of miners was ‘The practical application of the aesthetic theory to exterior and interior house decoration with observations on dress and personal ornament’. Bet that went down well.

The Leadville Trail 100 event was taking place today. About 500 people started running 100 miles at 4.00 this morning up and down mountains in killer altitude. It’s so high that the toothpaste tube puffed up and the ball of the roll-on deodorant popped out. The first runner got back after approx 17¾ hours. The record is around 15. They have 30 hours to complete the run so that’s until 10.00 am tomorrow. We were told that this is A and E’s biggest night of the year.

Arches addicts

August 21
It took just an hour to get from Grand Junction to the Arches National Park. We drove there across a moonscape desert, listening to Dylan and breaking the speed limit. It was a mecca of red arches and spires, some like temples, some like castles, some like layered cake. Hard to believe all made entirely by mother nature herself, and constantly evolving. My favourite of course was the one pictured here – the Three Gossips! It was quiet and it was hot, hot, hot. The temperature went up to 103. We had a picnic at Devils Garden and walked as much as we could but it was hard with the heat and the altitude. We were there for 5 hours though and took masses of pics. Few here.

When is a monument not a monument?

August 20
First stop out of Utah – the liquor store
Another spectacular journey, this time through Red Indian terrain, dinosaur country, deserts, oil fields and mountains. It was 94 degrees when we got to Grand Junction and we decided to check out Colorado National Monument which is not a monument as we know it. In fact, a ranger told us that some tourists travel the 23 mile twisting, curving, white-knuckle drive past the brilliantly coloured rock spires, arches, pedestals and balanced rocks and say “But where was the monument?” – expecting a statue. He told us (I think) that an area can become a National Monument on one person’s say-so (the President?) To become a National Park involves more people. We took 98 pictures between us. Here are just five.

Chilling out in the dry state

August 18 and 19
We just spent two glorious days at Flaming Gorge in a log cabin on the edge of a lake. We read our books, even caught up on one of the movies we’d downloaded onto the laptop and hiked on trails where we didn’t see a soul. We went on sunset walks and rowed on the empty lake – as in with oars – not quarrelling. In fact, the silence was so immense we only talked quietly to each other. We heard humming birds, crickets and the breeze through the pine trees, and at night the howls of the coyotes. A doe brought her baby deer to our door. There’s some pictures in this album.

We went riding along the edge of the Red Canyon Rim, 1700 feet above the Green River - just Steve and me and a wrangler called Wayne who said to Steve, “Kick your horse like your wife kicks you.” Steve said, “You mean in the nuts?” On the ride we saw just two people. We knew they were British because they stepped off the path and said “Sorry!” It turned out they came from Bristol.

Utah is a dry state. In preparation for this, Steve had bought a 2 quart bottle of whisky in Wyoming and then accidentally left it there. It takes a lot to laugh, it takes a train to cry.

Provoking the locals
This is a good game: asking people here what they thought of Brokeback Mountain. There’s invariably a long pause, then something like “Ma’am, I sure wish people would forget about that dang movie.” Have yet to meet anyone who has actually seen the film, but they have very strong opinions about it – a bit like some people were when Life of Brian came out all those years ago.

My mother’s older than this National Historic Place

August 17
So here we are in a log cabin under the Wind River Mountain Range. The cabin was built in 1929, hence its status as a National Historic Place.

It was easy to find (turn right at the Freemasons’ Lodge) and it’s so cosy we almost stayed on the porch for the rest of the day whittling sticks but the great outdoors called us.

Every new place we go to, I prepare myself for an anti-climax just in case - but I haven’t been disappointed yet. We drove here through the Hoback Canyon, alongside the river then through the Bridger-Teton Forest. It was magnificent and the temperature was 70 degrees.

Once we dragged ourselves away from the cabin, we went up closer to the mountain range and visited some lakes.

This is real Brokeback Mountain country but haven’t seen a gay cowboy yet. Nor a happy one, nor even one who is faintly amused.

Pioneer country

August 16
We drove to the top of Signal Mountain and looked down into the Jackson Hole valley and saw miles of the Snake River weaving between the pine trees. We dropped by the Chapel of the Sacred Heart, alongside Jackson Lake in the woods where the christening of triplets was about to start. We stopped off at Jenny Lake then went on to the Menor homestead which got us thinking and talking about the pioneers who got 160 acres to build on and cultivate over five years for $15 then the land was nationalised. Pictures are here. Then we dropped by the very Alpine Teton Village and wondered whether to take the cable car up to the top of the mountain but I thought I might have a panic attack. Fortunately the tickets were expensive so that was a good excuse not to do it.

Another language
Steve said several days ago, “You can’t go anywhere without Americans being nice to you” and it’s so true. Everyone has been wonderful to us. But sometimes there has been a bit of a language problem. It all started when I asked for a tub of ice cream and was told that a tub is called a mug. “Ah, we drink out of a mug,” I said. “Well, we bathe in a tub,” was the reply. “And we bath in a bath” I said, pronouncing it properly. We’ve noticed too that every ‘server’ (waiter or waitress to you and me) regardless of age, sex or ethnic background has called us “you guys.” And it’s “So where d’you guys come from?” and, depending on their age, their response to our reply will either be “Coo-el! Awesome!” or they will have a relation in Sheffield. I’ve listed down the side some of the great and funny things that have been said to us.

Where would you like your flagpole positioned, sir?
And then there’s the flags. Those stars and stripes are everywhere. In England, if someone had the Union Jack flying in their garden, the neighbours would suspect them of belonging to the BNP. Here, I imagine, if an American is having a house designed, the architect says, “And where would you like your flagpole positioned, sir?”

The guard of honour

August 15
We’d been misinformed: Obama’s visit to Old Faithful was today not yesterday so we made an early start to escape traffic hold-ups, and succeeded. Report of his visit is here. We’d not been on the road two minutes when more than 50 bison lined each side of the road, like a guard of honour, to bid us farewell. They were really close. We drove straight to the Teton National Park with lots of stops to look at views. It was a bit chilly today but we discovered that my car seat could be heated.

Young, restless and still rising
The Teton Mountains are considered to be the energetic teenagers of the Rocky Mountain chain. And how many photos can one person take of one mountain range? Hundreds, but still not enough.

Il faut souffrir pour etre belle
Jackson is a really nice town with Western-town architecture laid out in a grid and boardwalks in front of the wooden buildings. But impossible to buy a sweatshirt without Wyoming, Jackson Hole or ‘Get a load of these Grand Tetons’ emblazoned across the chest. I was cold, but there’s a limit.

Mormon Row
We went up to the barns on Mormon Row, apparently the most photographed barns in the world. It was once a vibrant community and is still very atmospheric. There’s a few more pics in this album.

The view from up here
Oh dear, how will I remember everything we’ve seen? How, when taking in a spectacular view, can I imprint it on my mind so I can recall it vividly in the future? Maybe it’s a gift that I don’t have – maybe no one has it. Perhaps photos will help nudge my memory, aided by my thoughts at the time or the music that may have been playing. Let’s hope that everyday life won’t obliterate this amazing experience.

We used to have this terraced

August 14
This was an epic day. We drove across green plains, then through red then white rocks to Mammoth Hot Springs: a series of terraces, some dry and some still active, glorious colours, interesting smells, white trees, black trees, blue lakes, rust-coloured rivulets and that’s not the half of it. See what I mean here.

Back in the saddle
3.2 million visitors go to Yellowstone each year. Only 2% of them go off the roads, the man-made tracks or the boardwalks. Of that 2% some see the outback from the back of a horse. We were those lucky ones. We rode across meadows filled with wild flowers, through pine forests, past herds of elk and alongside the edge of a canyon. Already this was going down as one of the best days of my life.

“The most perfect view of the most perfect waterfall” – it’s official!
And if that wasn’t enough, we went to Artist Point. We could have looked at it for hours because as the light changed so did the colours of the water and the rocks. Then, because you only live once (in this lifetime, anyway) we decided to walk down under the waterfall which involved a steep climb down, and then 328 steps. It was worth it – in spite of those 328 steps and the steep climb back up again . But we didn’t come here to lie in the sun (nor for the fine dining!) But by this time it was 7.30 pm so time to think about food.

The Kool Tie kids
Normally we’re strangers to the outdoor activity shop but we bought these Kool Ties in Boulder because we thought they looked “neat”. You soak the ties to hydrate the crystals inside them and then you stay cool and they stay wet all day. Apparently they help reduce heart rate and blood pressure which was just the ticket when we were doing our 656 steps and steep climbs.

A bit of a geyser

August 13
Three quarters of the world’s geysers are here in Yellowstone National Park and we walked off a lot of waffles today visiting most of them: the Norris Geyser Basin, the Artists’ Paintpots, the Midway Geyser Basin, West Thumb Geyser Basin and, of course, Old Faithful. Here's just a few. We felt as if we were on another planet.

The Magnificent Eruption
Within nine minutes of our arrival at Old Faithful, it obliged. It was as if a god, if you like, came out of the earth. There were quite a lot of people there who’d been waiting for a while. In general though, there’s been nothing like the crowds we’d been warned about. No nose-to-tail traffic other than at road works, and the only time you see a bunch of cars together is when there’s an animal nearby and there’s a cluster of camera clickers.

Oh blimey! Obama!
The guy in the log cabin next door tipped us off that President Obama is visiting Old Faithful tomorrow which is why we decided to go there today. This neighbour, from North Carolina, knows Devon well, loves Dartmoor, has worshipped at Exeter Cathedral and b and b’d in Bovey Tracey etc. Why am I always surprised at these "coincidences"?

The road goes on for ever, and the party never ends

August 12
Before we left Cody we went to the Old Trail Town Museum which we thought was much better than the Buffalo Bill one. Perhaps the good night’s sleep on the best bed in the west had something to do with it. The leaflet said that it had “actual authentic” artefacts and here are the photos.
We drove to Yellowstone on Chief Joseph’s Scenic Route then the Bear Tooth Scenic Highway, stopping off at more jaw-dropping, stomach-flipping, tongue-tying, tear-jerking views.

We arrived at Yellowstone in hail, with thunder and lightening, then out came the sun and dried out all the rain. We saw bison and a grizzly bear – it was so exciting. We’ve got a cabin for 3 nights, just half a mile from the Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone. Pictures are here.
The cabin is basic. There’s no air-conditioning, no mobile phone reception, no internet access, no TV, no iron, no hairdryer. It’s great! Just a bed and basic washing facilities. Bears, elk and bison all around.

Holding back the tears

August 11
We had breakfast at Pistol Pete’s. Steve said, “If he’s there, should we call him Pete or Pis?” Then we drove 186 miles west to Cody, through the Bighorn National Forest, stopping off at Shell Falls where I found I had to keep myself in check because for the first time in my life a view nearly made me weep. It was something about the peace, and the big-ness and the emptiness that hit a spot somewhere.
It was 88 degrees in Cody and we went straight to the Buffalo Bill Historical Centre, where among the guidelines (such as not taking drinks in or using flash photography) we were asked to leave our weapons in our vehicle.

We had a log cabin at the Cody Cowboy Village which was great and boasted the best beds in the west. And in the evening we went to the rodeo, which was an experience we can now tick off the list. The show started with a prayer and the national anthem, the exciting bits were just seconds long and the rest was padded out with the weak jokes and homophobic, racist, nationalistic patter of the clown / compere. So ole still wins over yee-ha and I stay loyal to the suit of lights over the denim and chaps.

Devils Tower

August 10
The story goes that seven sisters were playing with their brother and he turned into a bear and started to chase them. They came to a tree stump which told them to climb aboard and it rose into the air with them on it. The bear couldn’t get them but his claws marked the bark all the way round. The sisters were taken up into the sky and they became stars. It’s America’s first National Monument. We had a wonderful walk round the base of it. It’s called hiking a trail here, which sounds much more impressive.

The Occidental Tourists

August 9

U-turn if you want to
We drove from Casper to Buffalo and were about to do a U-turn on the bridge in Main Street when we saw a police car, so decided to stay on the right side of the law. It turns out that this is the only bridge in the whole of the US where it is not against the law to do a U-turn. An opportunity missed.
As we were too early to check in we carried on up into the Bighorn Mountains and had a picnic in the snow. Mine was a very odd sandwich: chicken curry and sauerkraut. The Hershey bar was good though.
We checked out the museum, learned that there is a big Basque connection in Buffalo and met a girl from Sheffield who is here for four months working as a wrangler.
The hotel has been here since 1880. Butch Cassidy, the Sundance Kid, Calamity Jane and Buffalo Bill were all guests and The Virginian was written here – Steve is reading it now. There was a bordello and ours is the Madame’s room. Pictures are here. We ate in the hotel restaurant – I had bison for the first time (sorry, veggie friends) and we remembered that tomorrow is the anniversary of our civil wedding. 27 years of unbridled marital bliss.

We’ve seen it in the movies. Now let’s see if it’s true!

August 8
Well we thought we’d seen some stunning scenery yesterday but the drive over the Snowy Range this morning was something else. We stopped so many times to gaze in wonder we did indeed wonder – whether we’d ever get to Casper. We’d take a bend and I’d gasp so loud Steve thought he’d hit a critter but, no, it was just another stunning view the size of England. Here are just a few of our photos.
Then we did a detour to visit the Wyoming Frontier Prison in Rawlins which was open from 1901 to 1981. We were taken around by a 15 year old guide and her 9 year old cousin. Some pics are here.
Steve said, “If I was born in Rawlins I’d be making plans to leave home as soon as I could walk.” But we saw a real live cowboy with his hat, boots and spurs walking down Main Street talking on his mobile so that made it all worthwhile before we left town. The sat nav told us to turn right in 113 miles.

Don't be shy with the wet wipes

August 7

Last night we ate at the Sagebrush BBQ and Grill, where the floor was covered in peanut shells, you could eat smoked elk bratwurst with Cheddar and jalapenos, and the waitresses wore teeshirts with ‘Don’t be shy with the wet wipes’ printed on the back. Our hotel had been taken over by German bikers (pussycats in leather really) and we got back to find them clinging onto each other, swaying from side to side, singing ‘Memories are made of this’ in German.

The long and winding road
Today we drove from Grand Lake to Centennnial. We took the back roads, going through and stopping off at the few one-horse towns en route. Mostly it was just huge, open, empty roads under an enormous blue sky. And stunning views, from the pine trees of the Arapaho National Forest to the peaks of the Northern Mountains, then through the Neota Wilderness and on to the Plains of Northern Colorado and Southern Wyoming. Steve said it was one of the most beautiful journeys he has ever done.
Centennial (population 100) is just a stopover for us, chosen because the Old Corral Hotel where we are staying claims to be the home of the 32 ounce steak but they didn’t want to cook after 8.00 pm so we took our custom to the other place.
This afternoon we visited the Museum, set in the old train depot where the highlight for us was an exhibition on the history of barbed wire.

“Ride ‘em like you stole ‘em”

These were the parting words from the guy at the Sombrero Stables this morning as we rode off into the wilds.
Snobchild that I was, I was brought up to believe that only the British did riding properly. We laughed at Americans who called it ‘horseback’ riding and made it look comfortable. We thought that anyone abroad was either cruel to or casual with their nags. We were the only nation who did it properly.
Of course this isn’t true. Today we heard a scarred and tattooed guy talk like a girl about the horse he’s training to “gate”. Mrs Know-all-there-is-to-know-about- horses here had to ask him what that meant. His explanation was poetic.
The ride was great and the pictures are here. Lucky creatures were able to blow off and pee whenever they felt like it. I had to contain myself until I got to the restroom (and suddenly I didn’t feel like resting any more!)
It was the second time Steve ever rode, so he has doubled his experience. His horse was called Pegasus. The stable girl said, “His wings got stole by the gypsies.”

Getting high and higher

August 5
11769 above street level. And then some

So much has been said and written about the Rocky Mountains and so many people have managed to take good photos, that anything I say or any picture I upload will do them no justice. So all I can write here is that we drove to Estes Park then into the Rocky Mountains National Park and followed the Old Falls River Road, a one way track that took us right up to the top where snow still lay.
Anyone who knows me well will be aware that when it comes to photography I have a penchant mostly to snap products with double-entendre names, disgusting lavatories, mis-spelt signs, gravestones and builders’ bums. Very little wildlife, apart from that rush of donkeys in Marrakesh. But in the National Park we saw a marmot on the edge of the road, more chipmunks, a moose and, up close and personal, a real live Bambi. So out came the camera and the pics are here along with some of the animals on display at the hotel we’re now staying at.

Short pants, big breaths
The views certainly took our breath away and the high altitude added to our breathlessness. Steve is fighting a cold as well, and we know where it came from. Sitting alongside us on the flight over was a very nice, well-travelled older woman who was extremely pleasant but not in an in-your-face way. The only thing that was in our face unfortunately for nine and a half hours were her very productive sneezes and coughs.

Skinny, average or obese?
Just before we came away Jack, who calls me ‘Deedee’ said to Steve, “What would you call Deedee” (his grandmother) “skinny, average or obese and you’re not allowed to say average?” Well I certainly haven’t seen any skinny people here yet, and why do the ones who are neither skinny nor average wear sports clothes? They clearly never do any sport. They wear those shiny shorts with a sporty stripe down the side of the leg and serious trainers. Today in the supermarket I took this picture of a sandwich.

Barnardo to Boulder

August 3

It took 21 hours to get from Barnardo to Boulder. There were only two hiccups, but they were contributory. The plane was an hour late leaving; we arrived around 8.00 pm but to our British bodies that was one in the morning, then it took a lot of time to pick up the hire car (but not a car as we know it). The guy said, “You wanna take this one?” and left us to it. It took a while to work out how to even make the thing go forward, let alone with its headlights on, then the sat nav didn’t connect. We’d been told that there is a toll road to Boulder but it was just as easy to drive through Denver. It wasn’t! I’m afraid there was a little bit of bickering, and a few sharp words were spoken as it became, to us, 3.00 am then 4.00 am and we got more tired and hungry as we got more and more lost. Then suddenly the sat nav kicked in and our marriage was saved. We found Boulder and our hotel. By this time it was 6.00 am.

August 4

Doing time in America
I’m not going to think about what time it is in England any more, but couldn’t help noticing a Totnesian feel to Boulder. It’s laid back and liberal. The shops sell tie-dyed wraparound skirts, crystals and wholefoods and there’s a lot of grey-haired men with pony tails. It’s the most educated city in the country - 55% of over-25s have a degree. There are 400 miles of cycle tracks and 93,000 bikes for 103,000 people. And we had to come all the way to drink the locally produced Celestial Seasonings Devonshire English Tea.

Everyone is so nice and there’s this good feeling of safety: not having to watch your back or your bag. When we arrived at the hotel last night we asked if it was OK to leave things in the car and were told that the closest thing to car crime here is that someone might dent your vehicle when they open their door.

The hearse with no name
It’s an embarrassingly enormous 7-seater Ford Flex, the size of a hearse. All we need is a gifted and talented child in the back seat in a private school uniform. It isn’t the one we ordered and I am going to give up ironing for a year to negate our carbon footprint. It does 24 mpg. Petrol is about 30p a litre. Where my guilt really lies is that for many summers we drove around Europe with our three children, buried under litres of wine, squashed in the back of an Astra and now we are rattling about in this huge thing and we could fit them, their partners and children in with us.

Here it is parked outside the Bates Motel we stayed in. Our room just behind the door – smaller than the car’s interior. At least we’ll have somewhere to stay if we run out of money………………..

Getting bolder…..
Today we drove it into the mountains (saw snow-capped ones) and got as far as Nederland (known locally as Ned) - another hippy town 8236 feet above sea level. It was 86 degrees. And we went on a tour of Boulder on the Banjo Billy bus, then had a cup of tea at the Boulder Dushanbe Teahouse

And our first evening meal in America? Ethiopian of course! We sat outside by a creek and ate with our hands.

A few photos from today are here.