On Safari

So, Al's come round to seeing there is some value in the blog, and we're pleased to have had so many encouraging (and, I must add, slightly envious) words from you all too.

Only just over two weeks to go now - it's flown by so fast - but I guess that's still time enough for a pretty decent holiday. We're off to the Oregon coast now for shell-seeking, sandy walks, and perhaps even a dip in the Pacific (though the coast north of San Fran is meant to be cold, so perhaps just a truly British paddle-with-the-trouser-legs-rolled-up).

Bye-bye National Parks

We're leaving the national parks behind for now, though we got a decent dose of America-the-Beautiful over the last week in the Grand Teton National Park and Yellowstone - two very different experiences bang next to each other in Northern Wyoming.

Yellowstone obviously the more famous of the two. Yes, a truly impressive park in many ways - incredible geo-thermic features given it's on the juncture between two pretty darned big tectonic plates (oh, geography GCSE. How you come back to haunt me). It's also the substantial home to grizzly bears and their cousins the black bears, bison and wolves, amongst many others. And therein lies the rub. Yellowstone, despite its awesome physical beauty and vastness, is essentially a safari park. Like hoardes of groupies in 4x4s (and the occasional Chevy Cobalt), we wait for the celebrity wildlife to grace us with a viewing. We got stuck in countless 'wildlife jams' (yes, it's an official term) as people stop to take pictures of yet more bison, or stop because other people have stopped and they might have seen a bear.

Okay, so perhaps that sounds a little bit cynical. We had the most amazing evening drive along the Lamar Valley to see belligerent bison kick up dust and shake their Elvis-like hairstyles in efforts to please the girls. However, we've been so spoilt in this country with having sensational landscapes and wildlife more or less to ourselves, and I guess Yellowstone in August was just a bit claustrophobic for us. Or maybe it's just that we didn't see a bear when every other darned visitor did (yes, including you, Mr. 'I'm-only-here-2-days-and-I've-already-seen-four-grizzlies-and-a-black-bear'. That is not an endearing response to our no-bear plight).

Grand Teton (pronounced teet-on... no sniggering at the back) National Park was one of our favourites so far. Its backbone is the Grand Teton mountain range (coming to an advert near you soon - it's a favourite backdrop with admen, apparently) - complete with glaciers and (as global warming plays its part) ever-decreasing ice fields. This was also a fitting backdrop to what we hope can serve as the official engagement photo (right). The Snake river begins here and is the envy of fly-fishers the world over (it's home to the indigenous cut-throat trout). The river is pretty magnificent, especially on the 7a.m. 'float' trip. Al and our 5 fellow (ahem) 'floaters' were treated to the sight of four bald eagles during our serene 2-hour drift down the river. We'd definitely recommend it to anyone keen on a bit of hiking and fresh air.

American Loyalty

So, the coast beckons again. Heading North out of Yellowstone and into Montana, we stumbled across Missoula - home to the University of Montana and the famous Montana Grizzlies football club (which doubtless you will have heard of). Here we bumped into just one of many examples of how our American friends differ from us Brits - the inordinate amount of pride they have in where they live. In our 2 days in Missoula, countless people told us how lucky we were to have found Missoula, what a great place it was and what we had to see while we were there. They all offer unswerving support to the local college football team - the town sells out every time there's a game. Perhaps this starts to explain why we see 'Support our troops' stickers on so many cars (far outnumbering any contrary voices). Americans seem unswervingly loyal to their own.

However, Missoula was a great town. A fantastic dinner at Scotty's Table (just in case you guys ever stumble across Missoula) meant we were pointed in the direction of a club called 'Badlander', home to this year's annual 'TotalFest'. Yes, I know you are all jealous that we managed to lay our hands on tickets to this prestigious event. Al and I had a pretty entertaining evening drinking the local brew and listening to the woes of angst-ridden heavy metal bands (okay, the lead singer of the Narrows did only have one leg, which was perhaps an excuse for melancholy, but - Fitz of Depression - other than only knowing 3 chords, what was troubling you?).

Perhaps you should go and take a look in this guy in the local gentleman's outfitters - he knows how to have a good time...

To the coast via Hell

's Canyon (the deepest canyon on the continent, though unfortunately on fire, so no plumbing the depths for Al and Dev).

A long drive across Oregon ahead, but we hope the Pacific is as blue as it has been in our dreams (it wasn't very blue in San Fran).

I'm going to ask Al to take over the driving so I can tan my other arm out of the window.

Tara for now.