However, before invading us in Beaufort, he suggested we all take a trip to the west coast, an area of the USA which had escaped their attention on prior visits. With some reluctance, John and I have always been somewhat competitive, he agreed that I was probably better qualified than he to organise such a trip.
    After due deliberation I emailed him a draft itinerary which started with them ‘doing’ Las Vegas (my wife and I had ‘done’ it on more than one occasion), then all four of us to go to the Grand Canyon, Yosemite, Carmel and Livermore. Finally, to drop them in San Francisco (another place adequately ‘done’ by my wife and I) where they would spend a couple of days before journeying east to rejoin us in Beaufort.
    John’s initial response was (a) he would rather die than go to Vegas and (b) at an average of 30 miles an hour there was no way we could comfortably cover such a distance in seven days.
My responses to his objections were that (a) in my opinion there are two cities in the world, Vegas and Venice, Italy, that are so unique as to require at least one visit and (b) we would be driving on decent American roads not the over crowded English ones. In other words, be quiet and leave the organisation to me!
    So it was that on May 1, at around noon, Jennifer and I arrived at the car rental centre in Las Vegas to meet our chums. To their eternal credit, and my relief, they immediately confessed that they had really enjoyed Vegas, especially as they saw the fabulous show “O” by Cirque du Soleil. Also, the Strip was not tacky as they had feared. Indeed the quality of the hotels/casinos from a construction standpoint (John is a qualified civil engineer) was extremely commendable. One up to me I decided!
    Our first ‘port of call’ was the Grand Canyon where I had arranged accommodation in a cabin within the park. The drive of some 270 miles, including stops, took about six hours. My original estimate was just about spot on although the stops we took were somewhat more involved than I had reckoned.
    The Hoover Dam was our first stop. Built during the depression in 1935 it is a magnificent structure. It was of particular interest to Engineer Widger as was the adjacent bridge currently under construction and intended, when completed in 2010, to ease the traffic flow between Phoenix and Las Vegas.
    We picked up I.40 in Kingman where we also lunched at an excellent diner and where to Johns surprise he was able to get his first scotch whisky of the day. He is a very devoted imbiber of the nectar from north of the border, but not , I hasten to add, an abuser!  I.40 is not the most scenic of roads but when you are accustomed to the greenness of England the desert scenery is to say the least different.
    Interstate 40 follows the famous US Route 66 in many places. When we left I 40 to go north to the Canyon we inadvertently got off the intended road and detoured on Route 66 through the small town of Williams. John and I were thrilled to see, and apparently in every day use, such a vast and varied collection of classic cars including, of course, numerous Corvettes of assorted vintages.
    I had been to the Grand Canyon previously. In the fall of 1986 to be precise when my newly college graduated son, his dog and I spent an overnight in his camper van in one of the parking lots. Our initial view then, from atop the south rim, prompted the spontaneous remark of “oh my god.” The Canyon was no less awesome this time but the parking lot had gone and movement by one’s own vehicle more restricted. I also recalled that we had the place much to ourselves whereas on this occasion it was pretty crowded. Perhaps it was the weak dollar that attracted so many of our Oriental friends. Also the warmer time of year, although it still gets pretty chilly around dawn as we, along with many other hardy fools, discovered when we watched the sunrise.
Yosemite was next on our list and despite John’s scepticism the nigh 700 mile journey passed smoothly. The scenery was of sufficient interest as it changed from desert to mountains to lush pastures and the back to mountains. In truth I think it might have been rather arduous had we not broken the trip with an overnight in Needles, birthplace of Charles Schulz, creator of Peanuts. A decision on my part which provoked a “good man” compliment!
    If the Grand Canyon was awesome, Yosemite was breathtakingly beautiful and a photographers delight. If only our fellow tourists had not been in such abundance! However we spent a delightful day touring the park and I would recommend a visit to anyone.
    The final part of our trip was a trip down memory lane for me.
     In the 1980’s I was lucky enough to play several times as an amateur, in the Bing Crosby National Pro-Am, now The AT&T.  Revisiting Carmel and driving around the seventeen mile drive from which I could see the three golf courses of Pebble Beach, Spy Glass and Cypress Point on which I used to play was a thrill. My companions were equally taken with the scenery of both the Monterey Peninsular and the Big Sur. We all loved flower-decked Carmel, which was not nearly as ‘twee’ as I had feared, although there are some fairly outrageously priced shops and restaurants. Talking of prices, a round at Pebble Beach, in my opinion still one of the great courses in America, is sadly now only for the very well heeled. A round costs $495; it makes South Carolina National on Cat Island a bargain, especially when it reopens in all its new splendour later this year.
    Prior to dropping the Widgers at their hotel in San Francisco (I had chosen the Sir Francis Drake as like the famous seaman explorer one of Johns ancestors was Captain Oates of Antarctic exploration fame) we visited Concannon Vineyards in Livermore. I used to be involved with Concannon and was delighted to find that it is still going strong under the guidance of The Wine Group and Jim Concannon, the ever youthful grandson of the founder. Their Petite Sirah is still in my book one of the best values for money for fanciers of this elegant varietal.
John and Margy found San Francisco, as one would expect, much to their liking but to my delight confessed that if they were to choose a place to live in America it would be our very own Lowcountry. They can return any time!

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