HOPEFULLY, if all goes well, we will return to the USA this autumn and catch up with our friends in New York state and North Carolina. We will take in some new vistas and a couple of cities, but we will also revisit some areas.

The problem is that while we would return to Memphis quite happily, and we loved San Francisco and Charleston, it is not feasible to take them all in. From several trips, we rate Arizona and South Dakota among the best we have visited, but again they are at opposite ends of the country.

So we have come to the hard decision to leave Arizona for another day, or perhaps another lifetime, but, as soon as we made that decision, thoughts of Arizona came flooding back.

Perhaps that was the reason why, when making two visits to the UK over the past month, I opted to regurgitate a few memories of Arizona, to place a few columns in the bank while we are travelling to and around the UK.

But, as Ellie pointed out, if for instance, we went back to Apache Pass this year, there would not be the frisson of excitement we experienced the first time as the police and border patrol cars race up and down the dirt roads, looking for illegal immigrants.

They say you should never go back, but we only experienced one real disappointment on our last trip to the States, when we returned to Camp Verde, in Arizona.

We had happened upon it, looking for a motel a few years earlier and knew we had struck lucky when the owner of the motel greeted us from a rocking chair. We ate at the Chinese restaurant, which was run by a Chinaman with one tooth and a pigtail; and the main bar played live music.

The car park was full of trucks, the men wore hats and most of the women were dressed to kill, even at 60 years old. It was a real slice of culture all served up one Friday night in Camp Verde.

We returned there six years later to find the motel and the restaurant had changed hands and the bar was closed. The motel was still Ok, but the restaurant was terrible and the bars lacked that authentic feel. It was disappointing but it did not last long as we explored the area and found the likes of Cottonwood and Jerome.

Many guidebooks will tell you to go to Sedona, a town amidst the red sandstone mountains. It is picturesque, but we found a lesser known jewel when we drove up to Jerome, which is cheaper, original and seemingly more authentic than Sedona but does not have the red bluffs each side. Location is great with Sedona but arguably the view is better from Jerome.

Ellie struck lucky again and felt the afternoon was a retail success, along with some wonderful views from the town, which has distinctly Victorian-type buildings - mostly in wood.

The population is just over 300 but once was churning out copper, silver and gold; was a hotbed of prostitution and was dubbed the wickedest town in the west around 1901. It once boasted a population of 15,000 but the mining ended, not least when an underground fire burnt for 20 years. By the early 1950s it was down to 50-strong population but was then named as a US Historical site.

It is known as the mile-high town and when you come out of the shops, you can see right across the Verde valley to Sedona and beyond. It was really impressive. Even if the town has changed, I know we could go back and wonder at the view.

Jerome is very arty now – a touch of Woodstock about it – and well worth visiting. Some of the old hotels with verandas on every floor are real period pieces.

I would recommend Sedona but save your pennies for the climb to Jerome, which really is naturally quaint as opposed to the designer quaint of Sedona. So I think we would name Cochise Stronghold, Tombstone and Jerome as places we would revisit if we went back to Southern Arizona, along with the truly spectacular Canyon Lands up to the North.

Recalling the last night in Tombstone, I remember opting for a local beer called Flat Tire and a Margarita before heading down towards the hotel. Then we heard some familiar chords and went into Big Nose Kate’s bar. Big Nose Kate, incidentally, was the affectionate name by which Doc Holliday’s partner was known.

On reflection, I am not so sure I would have risked naming her as such to the man himself. “Hi Doc. Is Big Nosed Kate with you?”

You might find yourself with extra holes to breath out of.

The bar was busy and featured karaoke. There was a table spare and we opted for that. Playing cards at one big table was a group of eight bikers, who looked as if they had auditioned for ZZ Top. I had four very large glasses of micro-beer, and the glass, stamped with the name of the bar, was so large, I decided, with the server’s agreement, to keep it. I still have it, here in France.

I have never liked the concept of karaoke because I cannot sing. However, such limitations do not prevent everyone from making a fool of themselves. One man in a cowboy hat got up to sing and was so bad, the bikers left off playing cards and reached for their lighters and waved them in the air. I really enjoyed that concept but, as I avoid karaoke, I do not know if it is a regular joke at such events.

The next morning, I recall, we were pulled over by a cop for speeding (80 in a 65 mph zone). He took the details, we were very apologetic, and then he printed out a written warning and wished us bon vacance courtesy of the Arizona State Police.

I like it there.

We had become so familiar with the fact we return with more luggage than we take to the US, we actually took an extra suitcase for this trip. Tucson proved to be excellent for retail therapy among the palm trees, cacti and yuccas.

When I opted for a pair of boots that had been reduced to $55 from $99, I was even more gratified to be told by the man at Macey’s that they had come up on the computer at $10. That bargain paid for the cost of transporting the extra suitcase. Even the arch-bargainer, my wife, was impressed by that deal.