Amazon Reviewer: C.A. ELLARD (Sidcup, England) I have just finished this booked and thoroughly enjoyed every part of it. The descriptions of the places visited are so visual it is easy to emagine being there. American readers will find the comparisons with the UK interesting and UK readers will just want to visit all the places. It is written almost as a diary and I just wish I had as much recall of places I have visited as this author does. When you read for foreward you realise this author had a lot to overcome and these journey through the US obviously did much to help.

Amazon Reviewer: P.K. Roberts (Brandywine, MD USA) I had the chance to read this book last year before it was published as it was written by my friend in England and she sent it to me in sections on email. If you are an American and have not been to any of the places she writes about you will want to go. If you have been there the book will take your mind right back there. It is beautifully descriptive and I cannot wait to receive my copy. Please buy this book. You will enjoy it. She and I went to a ranch in Texas in April 2005. She took a lot of notes and I hope she will write about that too. She is most informative and absolutely loves America.

Email the author on: susanhaven7@googlemail.com

*********************** The sight of the big silver American Airlines plane through the lounge window terrified me. Andy had said they were big, but to me it wasn’t. I couldn’t believe it could actually fly through the air. I tried to put a brave smile on my face, but it must have looked strained. Sarah was fascinated and really looking forward to it. We lined up when the numbers of our seats were called, walking down a long carpeted metal corridor to where the cabin crew were waiting in the doorway. As we shuffled inside, I tapped Andy on the shoulder and said, “I thought you told me it was big!” “It is,” he replied, “compared to the smaller flights to the Continent.” I felt claustrophobic. We bundled our hand luggage into the cupboards above our seats and sat down. I was shaking, trying to get interested in the bag of goodies given to us for the flight on the seat, with a blanket and a small pillow. The stewardesses gave a demonstration of how to put on life jackets, pointing to the emergency exits and toilets. As the plane was a non-smoker, they stated that smoke detectors worked in the toilets and must not be tampered with. I was thrilled by their American accents for it was almost like being in the States already. Finally, after telling people to turn off any portable phones or players and checking that everyone had their seat belts on, the plane began to move backwards. I kept wishing that I had the courage to scream let me out, but was afraid of looking a fool. I shut my eyes, too afraid to look up in case I could see out of the closest window. The plane taxied out onto the runway. Andy had already told me that once into the air, not to worry if the engines went quiet, they had to make as little noise as possible over the houses. The plane stopped, the engines began revving, and then it began to go faster and faster, finally lifting into the air. Oh, ****.” I prayed that I hadn’t thought out loud! The motion made me feel sickly, and when I opened my eyes, everything seemed to whirl, making me feel extremely sick. I prayed that I wouldn’t be ill–how embarrassing. Eventually, as the plane stopped banking and levelled out, I felt a little less ill, but still terrified at the knowledge that there was nothing below my feet. Once permission was given, Sarah put on her headphones to listen to her CD player, while Andy was reading the magazines from the pocket in front of him. Overhead, in several places down the aisles were TV screens for the in-flight movies, and a handset in the armrest to use them also had buttons for music channels. Not long after we set off, the stewards and stewardesses came down the gangways with a trolley, asking if anyone wanted a drink and handing out packets of pretzels. I was so petrified that I couldn’t eat and refused everything, but Andy warned me that I had to drink as much as I could to stop dehydration in the recycled air. A few hours into the flight, Andy began sneezing-the beginning of a cold. Despite people continually getting up to go to the toilets, I was far too worried to move, frightened the plane would tip if I did, which was stupid as lots of other passengers were all moving about. Finally, I had no option, making my way nervously to the back. The toilets were occupied so I had to wait, holding onto the wall for safety, where I spotted a map of the route we were taking stating the speed of the plane, and the temperature outside. We were going at 550mph, and it was minus forty-six outside. Finally, my curiosity overcame me when I saw something through the window across the gangway, and without leaving go of the wall, I leant forward, fascinated to see snow and green coloured lakes below me. Greenland! I called to Sarah to come and look. After eleven hours, and arriving late, we landed at Dallas International airport. What a relief. I couldn’t get off the plane fast enough. It was very hot in the metal and glass corridor from the plane, but I gazed fascinated across the runways at the flat land that danced with heat hazes. Texas! I was totally enthralled at being in America, at last I was in my magical land, somewhere I had always wanted to go, and I couldn’t stop looking around for anyone in cowboy hat and boots. We were due to leave for Kansas City at 15.45 from another part of the airport and had to run through the concourse, dodging people and carts. We handed our tickets in at the desk, our main baggage having been sent across automatically to our plane. Finally we reached Kansas City, once an early cattle town, at 17.15pm.

********** We strolled round the plot reading the wooden markers, real or replaced? One of the markers was for a man named Mac McDermott, which happened to be the name of the Personnel Director where I worked. Another marker bore the legend: ONE NIGHT HE TOOK A POT SHOT AT WYATT EARP. BURIED ON BOOT HILL AUGUST 21, 1878. “LET HIS FAULTS, IF HE HAD ANY BE HIDDEN IN THE GRAVE” Heading back out towards the car, there was a long line of wooden buildings that looked like a real town. Apparently this main or Front Street had been faithfully rebuilt from photographs after the originals had been burnt down in 1885. We walked along the wooden sidewalk with its shingled porch overhangs and went into some of the shops, full of old tools, dry goods and furniture. Geo. Hoover’s saloon and cigar store-there were several saloons all on Front Street-had been the first commercial business in Dodge, opening in 1872. By 1877, he was receiving as many as five thousand cigars a week to sell. The tonsorial parlour, or barber’s shop, was the first stop for cowboys straight in off the trail, dusty, longhaired, and bearded after their journey. Here, they got a haircut, shave and a bath before ‘treeing the town’ with their high spirits. The barber was usually a mine of information where they could get news about almost anything.

********** Posters around town announced that the New Mexico State Fair was being held that night and we drove round to the parking lot of a shopping mall to catch one of the specially laid on buses, rather like our ‘park and ride’ buses. As we got on, we had to feed our dollar bill into a machine that then issued us with return tickets. I found it fascinating the way the bill was slowly grabbed and taken into the mouth of the machine. Lots of machines in America took bills, but I couldn’t imagine our five or ten-pound notes being treated like that. The grounds inside the fencing were packed out with people, with what seemed like hundreds more streaming through the gates. A rodeo was also advertised to start in an hour, so we crossed to the booking windows first and bought tickets before walking round the rides and stalls. I was stunned at the sickly food on offer, every other stall seemed packed with hotdogs, toffee apples covered in chocolate, pretzels with melted cheese dips, Coke, Pepsi, and our candy floss, called cotton candy here. No wonder most Americans, including the kids, are obese. Nearly all of the meals we bought had a large selection of salads so the Americans really shouldn’t have been so fat. Mind you, take a look at the British these days, we’re running them a close second! We did buy large paper cups of crushed ice covered with a sweet flavoured syrup which could be either drunk through the straw as it melted or eaten using the tiny scoop on the other end. In one area we stopped to see a ‘fun’ ride. Two people were strapped into a chair attached to a springy rubber cable, the chair was pulled down, then released to catapult into the air, bouncing up and down to ear piercing screams from the passengers. How they weren’t sick I would never know as the chair spun round and round as well. Another ride had three people face down in a sort of sleeping bag. This was pulled back high before being released, to swing them back and forth over the heads of the crowd. I made sure I wasn’t in their line of fire! I caught sight of several mounted police and went over to pat the horses, telling the lady rider that I rode western back home. She was very interested, not knowing that we did it in Britain, and she was startled when I said we also did rodeos, although not up to their standard. I also went and patted the two horses whose riders were in western gear and were riding back and forth in front of the ticket area to advertise the event. We entered the show ring, noting statements posted on the walls that said ‘no filming.’ Sarah and I took seats half way up the stands while Andy went and sat near the top so that he was able to film secretly from the carrying case, placing his coat over the top. Unfortunately, halfway through, two big ladies came in and sat right in front of him, obscuring his view.

********** At 7pm a cookout had been organised behind the ranch house, with steaks, ribs, chicken, jacket potatoes and beans, followed by a dessert. Oil lamps on the tables cast flickering yellow lights. Brad and Andy took the rise out of Sarah with their ribs of meat, as she was a vegetarian, by constantly smacking their lips. I mentioned that I had been bitten several times on the neck, and Brad insisted that it was a “kissing bug.” Despite his apparent sincerity, I wasn’t too sure if he was kidding or not. After, there was a hayride, starting out from the corrals. A large cart with straw bales to sit on and pulled by two black Percherons belonging to the ranch waited for us, two bright lanterns hanging at the front. Unfortunately, Andy missed it, thinking the pickup was from another part of the drive. Joe, another wrangler sat beside Brad who was driving. The moon was just coming up, bathing the range in a silver light, making the choya shine like it was luminous, and there was a gentle, warm breeze. The older people who came began singing old songs for a while, then just chatted. Brad drove around the gravel drive, out of the gateway and down the road with Joe keeping an eye open for any cars, pointing a lantern towards them to show that we were there. Halfway round, Brad asked me if I could see the fireflies. Suspiciously, I glanced round, but could only see some lights ahead of us from houses. “No, around the horses feet.” Still suspicious that I was somehow being kidded, I looked. “There,” he pointed. It was the sparks from the horses’ shoes on the road! He and Joe thought that hysterical. I silently swore that I’d get even sometime. It was a magical ride and I was sad to get back to the ranch. Brad told us that there was a possibility of doing a moonlight ride one evening, if anyone would like to go. “Yes, please.” Andy and I went and had a look in the meeting room where there were shelves and shelves of books, and he found a row of Zane Grey’s, my favourite western writer, one of which I took back to the casita to read. Getting ready for bed, to my horror I discovered that although I had the chain round my neck, the little gold pendant watch that Les had given me years before and which I’d finally managed to have mended recently, had gone. I was heartbroken. It could have been anywhere we’d been today, and probably lost in the sand.

********** We awoke to a dark, wet, cool morning. After showering, Sarah and I met up with Andy and took the cases to the shuttle. I paid for the motel, as here, Santa Fe and Albuquerque, weren’t already done by Thomas Cook, and then driven to the Amtrak station. Our cases were taken and placed in the lower part of the carriage by the sleeping car attendant, while we wended our way up the narrow stairs to our seats, recliners with a fold-down tray attached to the rear of the seat in front. There was an overhead luggage rack, foot, and leg rests, overhead lighting, and the carriage was very clean, light and airy with panoramic windows. Below, in the next carriage along, was a small café with seating where we could get hot and cold drinks and snacks, although our tickets included the price of our meals. We didn’t stay here long, heading straight along to the observation, or Sightseer car. This, in daylight, would prove to have wraparound windows, big windows with the glass curved above, giving a brilliant view. The lounges showed either movies or cartoons for the children. The tannoy was brilliant, informing us of everything from the snack bar opening, to the times of the meals in the diner, approaching stations and, for those sleeping, when their beds would be turned down. They also gave information for when we crossed State lines, and when we had to change our watches as we passed through a Time Zone. For now, it was very dark, but the seats were comfortable. The train travelled through Garden City where street lamps shone yellow pools of light onto the damp sidewalks and buildings. There were already a few cars on the roads. Slowly, dawn began to lighten the sky and I could make out more details of the land before, to my astonishment, it became black again. I suddenly realised that I’d just seen the pre-dawn that I’d read about in cowboy books. Finally the true dawn came showing the land to be flat and almost monotonous. We passed small homesteads, all of which seemed to have their own private car wrecks and looked rather run-down. The train followed alongside narrow country roads and dusty tracks for miles and miles, and the accompanying telegraph poles, at half the height of ours, looked really strange, more like grave markers. Then came the Arkansas River with its deep washes and run-offs scarring the ground, the sandy banks covered with scrub bushes and trees almost to the waterline, and muddy coloured water. I tried to imagine the herds of cattle splashing through on their way to the stockyards. In full flood, this must have been terrifying to the cowboys, most of who never learned to swim, and where they would have used their swimming horses. Like people, horses had preferences for some types of work, and cowboys would have had their own string allotted to them by the ranch. Some worked well at night, some were better at cutting cattle from the herd, while others were good on bad ground. Paints and white horses were never used around cattle as their brightness in sunlight or moonlight could spook the whole herd into a stampede.

********** We walked through the corridors until we found the carousel, being met there by gorgeous looking Mark who’d come from the ranch, the Lazy K Bar. The carousel started operating to bring round the luggage, but broke down to jeers from people. Mark told us that it happened quite often, and when it finally it started up again, to great cheers, we claimed our baggage We waited in the steamy heat for Mark to come round with the people carrier, while I remembered to put my watch back an hour as we had passed through another time zone. Mark loaded the bags then drove us out of the wet airport and into the dusk. The sun was heading down over the mountains shining a beautiful gold through gaps in the big black clouds. Mark pointed out Hat Mountain to us, shaped like a sombrero, in the far distance, where the ranch apparently lay at the base about twenty-five miles away. (We were told the following year that originally it had been called Stetson Mountain.) We arrived at the ranch in the dark with the gravel drive lit by low lights and more lights stuck up in some of the cacti while, at the head of the swimming pool were two huge palms, also lit by lights shining up their trunks. The water shone bright blue and looked really inviting.

********** Next morning, during breakfast, I discovered that several of the elderly people had been ill, too. I walked down to the corrals to cancel our riding for the morning, telling Joe that Sarah and I couldn’t go. He ribbed us about chickening out, but became concerned when I said that Sarah had been sick all night. He advised me to go to a drug store to get drinks with electrolytes in to replace the minerals and salts that she would have lost, possibly leaving her dehydrated. At the office, I asked Carol if anyone could take me to the nearest store, but she told me that there were cans in the drinks machine that had them, so I got some dollar bills and bought a couple of cans. Sarah felt a little better later on in the morning so we decided to try and get our own back on Brad. After the rides came back, she and I went up to the corrals with plastic cups, me with a bottle of Jack Daniel’s whiskey that I had bought as a present for dad, and Sarah with another bottle in her hand. We met Brad and pretended to be recovering from a hangover, asking him where he’d been as we’d had a mad party in our chalet last night. He fell for it hook, line and sinker, as Joe had obviously not told him about Sarah being ill, saying that he’d been in the bar all evening, and looking very disappointed. What a joy for us after all his tall tales. We kept on about this wild party, giggling madly, until Joe started shouting at us about, “can you hear me, is this loud enough.” Then we fell about laughing. One up to the Brits! Sarah was exhausted after this and went back to lie down for another sleep. I took a little bit of light food back to her after lunch, and she slept all afternoon while I went for an afternoon ride. When I got back, she said she felt a little better, and did manage to come to the dining room for some dinner, especially as I thought it unwise to go on the moonlight ride without any food inside her. Despite my concern, she was determined to go. Lots of people went and it was fantastic, walking the trails up and down gentle slopes in the moonlight, the choya and saguaro glowing luminously as everything was bathed in a silver light, the saguaros casting long shadows.

********** We crossed the North Fork of the Shoshone passing the town of Wapiti (Wapeetee) where, round a bend, there were huge rock formations like hundreds of chimneys or organ pipes, rising out of sage covered slopes, grey crags and a carpet of pines. Andy fancied breakfast and turned off onto a small trail, heading up a dirt track between dark, gloomy pines before reaching an old wooden chalet. White frost covered the wooden pole fencing and the ground. Gosh, what a change in weather from the ranch area. We parked up and went inside, waiting to be seated, where I listened to two hunters talking, and then were shown to a wooden table with chairs made of rawhide and wood frames. When I went to order, the waitress apologised that they had no biscuits and gravy as they had run out of biscuits, so I settled for French toast with gravy instead. There were skins and antlers on the walls, and a lovely warm wood burner at the far end of the room, crackling away. Two more men came in, and one told the other that it had been 30f –1C last night. It was so peaceful and cosy, it was a shame to get up and leave. We carried on, getting closer and closer to the snowline, passing through more and more wooded areas, the mountains towering over us. Ravines and canyons opened out on either side of us, some with slides of broken shale. The road wasn’t busy, but most of the traffic was RVs while at several parking spots were trucks and horse trailers. I guess people had gone out riding the trails. At Pahaska, we followed the Shoshone River again for an hour or so through tall pines, and there was a sprinkling of snow beside the road. A notice informed us that we were now entering Yellowstone Park at an elevation of 8,559 feet and we pulled up at a small tollbooth to pay the $20 entry fee. Yellowstone had first been discovered in 1867. Then, in March 1872, after Mammoth Hot Springs were seen, a bill had been passed to make it a National Park as people wanted it preserved for future generations and kept in its natural state. In 1882, Phil Sheridon had discovered that the park had become a shambles, with wildlife being slaughtered in the thousands by poachers, and had launched a national campaign to put it under federal control. In1886, the army had taken over, put the park back into order, and restocked it with buffalo from the Texas rancher Charles Goodnight’s private stock, thus helping to save them from extinction. We passed a long open valley to the left, with snowy peaks behind it, following the somewhat bumpy, twisting road, before turning a corner to see Yellowstone Lake in front of us. There were several little beaches with people in coats walking about, and then a walled parking bay. Andy stopped, and I got out to film a plume of steam coming from beyond it, somewhere down in a crack. The smell of sulphur was horrid. Continuing on, we passed orange/yellow sulphur ponds and dried up beds, all steaming. Nearly everywhere I looked, white steam rose in wispy plumes, and Pelican Creek wound its way across a yellow grass plain. We passed a huge buffalo sleeping by the road but nowhere to stop and film it, so I hoped that there would be more of them further on. Andy pulled in for gas, then drove on to Geyser Basin, a beach stretching from the road and around to our left, steam plumes all the way along it. An awesome sight and a strong reminder that we were actually in the middle of a still active volcanic area, in fact in a 80x40 mile huge sunken Super Volcano. One of the geysers was fenced off round the hole for safety. There were huge areas of dead pines, some standing, a lot like a sea of fallen matchsticks, and we passed miles and miles of them. Patchy snow began to show again at 8,390 feet.

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