The bar had closed, the China-man with the pig-tail had sold up and . . . well they say you should never go back

From Canyon Country we headed down and eventually off the Colorado Plateau to more reasonable altitudes. It was a change to buy a packet of crisps and not see them swell up like a balloon as you go up into the mountains. What bothers me is that when you go into a provision store at altitude, the crisp bags are not swollen. Presumably they have had altitude training.

It was about 150 miles down from Bryce Canyon to Flagstaff and beyond and again there were some fine vistas including the Grey Mountain, which is part of the San Francisco range (700 miles from the city of the same name). We were about 5,000 feet and this great lump rose 7,000 feet out of the desert floor to just over 12,000: quite a sight.

We spent much of the day in Sedona, an attractive if expensive town in the midst of red cliffs. It is known as a “must-see” and it is very fashionable and pretty, surrounded by sandstone bluffs. We walked along the street and browsed in the various shops and thought of staying the night. However, the motel prices they were quoting were high and most of the attractions appeared to involve, hiking, rafting, canoeing, climbing, horse-back riding or camping.

Our physical activity is more restricted than that, and was, even in our younger days. We passed and moved on to Camp Verde, where we went 11 years before and met a woman on a rocking chair telling us “snowbird season is over”; a Chinaman with one tooth and pigtail serving excellent food; the Bollon’s bar with a live group that started The Band’s The Weight as we entered and women at that Friday night hop wearing hats and rhinestone outfits. There was also a withered old lady in full Confederate outfit. It was as if the whole town was populated by people from Central Casting.

They say you should never go back. The bar had closed, the lady on the rocking chair had sold up, the withered old lady had passed on and the Chinese had changed hands and served the worst Chinese meal we had ever had. I can assure you that meal exited my body with considerably more alacrity and enthusiasm than had been displayed upon entry.

But the rocking chairs were still on the front stoop and we did get to a bar with live music and serving decent, local, non-conglomerate beer. We decided to stay two more nights and chill – the nights almost certainly star-filled because the air is so pure and clean and clear you can see so much in the heavens.

Camp Verde was having a Camp Verde weekend. On Saturday morning we walked out on Main Street and watched a parade. There were many floats, quite a number on horseback and a sad looking bull with one horn. They had numerous greyhounds and pit-bulls which are being rescued.

We were surprised by the number of pit-bulls there are out in that neck of the woods. We had seen lots of engaging-looking puppies on leads and upon inquiries were told they were pit-bulls. We also saw some extremely large man-eating pit bulls, without a muzzle.

Many businesses and organisations contributed to the floats on the parade and the main theme was the forces. They are very conscious of their boys. There are discounts for this and that if you are in the armed forces and you get served first. They are given priority in everything.

So there were a lot of floats stating Freedom does not come free and it is worth fighting for (unless of course you were an Indian and then freedom did not come into the equation because you were a damn savage who needed annihilating in the land of the free).

The Yanks do tend towards cant.

Camp Verde is small-town America, with a population of 10,000. But we were able to chill there. After 3,250 miles since we left New Orleans 20 days previously, it was time to take a breather.

We walked round the town and we also noted that when kids were throwing beads and sweets out of the floats, the party of 20 Indian children were thrown very few.

In Arizona, which has never been ‘dry’ even in Prohibition, surprisingly they have an attitude towards alcohol.

The ‘server’, as they call the waiter (‘I’m Mikey and I’m your server today’), said he would bring two glasses with the bottle of wine.

Ellie stressed she did not drink, to which Mikey told us: “I’ll still bring two. That way I won’t get into trouble for serving a whole bottle to a customer.”

Imagine that: someone drinking a whole bottle of wine. And they think they are hard and tough out there.

It was nice sitting out in the October sunshine, getting back to sandals and no need to wear socks. A week or so earlier that October I wore socks for the first time since May when going up the railroad to Silverton. People said we would be that cold.

I did not wear them in the lower part at Bryce because, although it was chilly, there was no snow on roads and paths. A black bloke shovelling snow took one look and said “Sir, you’re gonna have to rethink your footwear.”

I took off the sandals, put on the socks and boots and I was grateful, as the snow was quite deep at the next stop.

Funny we had been in 100 degrees and then at 37.

But the sun was shining in Camp Verde and the washed socks, long relegated to dry on the back parcel shelf, had now been returned to the suitcase.

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