Chapel Hill, North Carolina.

As the North American tour neared its conclusion, we found ourselves at our final stop, Chapel Hill in North Carolina. Famous for its University and their sports teams, Chapel Hill is a wonderfully pretty place, lined with stunning trees and hidden lakes: brimming with small town charm and surrounded with vast, magnificent countryside. Finding the house where we were staying would have been a remarkably tricky task without our (for once) accurate navigator Tom, as driving around Chapel Hill and Catham County at night leaves you wondering if they have ever heard of street lamps. After a few days of driving around and getting my barings, I was actually very glad of the lack of lighting as their absence left a remarkable view of the Milky Way in its wake. Very rarely have I seen such clear and glorious skies, and although I didn't take the opportunity to photograph them, I did take time to sit and marvel at them on many occasions.

The winding lanes that take you from Catham County into Chapel Hill itself were reminiscent of the Essendon Road in Hertford, England (where my parents live) and made me feel at home very quickly. Having to slow down for deer early in the morning or swerve to avoid other creatures kept me on my toes, but it is always great to see so much wildlife in one place. The people of Chapel Hill were friendly for the most part, although I was expecting a little more warmth from the deep south, having been told of its famous hospitality on many occasions

and I was surprised that general politeness levels were not equal to that found in Richmond, for instance.

Towards the end of our second week in Chapel Hill, John came to visit us (see the entry on Letchworth State Park in September for more adventures with Mr.Blundell) for one night which gave me the opportunity to sample more of the micro-brewed beers I hadn't yet tried and to catch up with a few old favourites. That night we had an Ice Storm, which is something I had never even heard of, let alone experienced, and I awoke to discover that my car was completely entombed in a one inch layer of ice: door handles and all, putting me in mind of the Delorean in back to the future after it had arrived from another year in time. Armed with a plastic spatula I set to work, chiseling and scraping and bashing and scraping and chiseling......did I mention scraping? It was hard work but I was eventually successful. I took some photos of the large pieces of ice that we removed from John's car later that day.

A few days later, whilst Whitney was watching someone having their brain cut up, I went out to take a few photos. I stumbled across a lake that had many trees growing out of it, and due to the stillness of the weather, the water acted like a mirror for the trees. I also stumbled across a deer carcass lying serenely beneath the surface, like some hideous Zombie-Bambi and couldn't resist taking a few snaps. Apologies to anyone who finds this, or me, disturbing.

This was our final stop on a long, but thoroughly exciting and fascinating trip around one of the most underrated countries in the World (although it is only underrated by non-Americans, as those who do not fall into this category already know what a great place it is and won't hesitate to tell you so). I once told a dear friend that, "I will never, ever, ever, ever step foot on American soil", and while I did spend the first week in the States trying to avoid all grass areas, I soon conceded and I cannot wait to go back and explore some more of it. If you ever have the chance to go, please don't be put off by your prejudices as I was, and take the plunge. You won't regret it. It is truly one of the greatest places on Earth.

New Hampshire and Vermont

Sometimes you arrive at a place and have no expectations of it whatsoever. That is how I found myself, driving from Manchester airport in New Hampshire towards the town of Lebanon, on the border with Vermont, being completely overwhelmed by the vastness of the place and overawed by its beauty. The time of year might have played a big part because instead of the usual rain found in these parts the cold had ensured that the countryside was now blanketed in thick fluffy snow.

New Hampshire is one of the few States in the Union that doesn't have state income tax, and is therefore quite a desirable place to live, but here on the border with Vermont (a state which has one of the highest sales taxes) it seems that the residence have the best of both worlds. They get to earn money relatively tax free and spend it in convenient shops, and then when they want to get away from all commercialism they can merely drive ten minutes away into Vermont and be free from all chain restaurants and shopping malls. These chains tend to stay away from Vermont because of the high sales tax, which instead leaves us with small family run businesses and local restaurants serving local food. Absolutely idyllic. Not being able to wait for the weather to change is the biggest problem with being somewhere for so short a time and I awoke to grey skies. Being un-perturbed I had a hearty breakfast and set off in my large gas-guzzling AWD, being very thankful for its extra grip and brute power. I had planned a route which took me along a road that ran alongside the Old River heading towards Hartford, away from the White River junction. I was hoping that the extremely efficient snow removers had at least left these roads covered and I was not disappointed as I carved and slid around each curve with ease, and a poise I couldn't have dreamed of if it had not been for the superb vehicle I was driving. I stopped along the way to take pictures and followed the road through to Woodstock and the excessively named Marsh-Billings-Rockerfeller National Historical Park, which in turn led me down to Windsor and my ultimate goal: The Harpoon Brewery. I was either too late or too early for the official tour, but was allowed into the factory part of the brewery to take some pictures, which took all of about 5 minutes, and then left me with plenty of time to sample some of the goods.

Having driven, I was forced to limit myself to two glasses and so I had to choose my beers carefully. The bar maid was very accommodating and allowed me to taste a shot sample of whatever I liked before I decided. I chose the Harpoon Winter Warmer to start with, and a fine choice it was too: very hoppy, smooth with a hint of vanilla, cinnamon and a touch of clove.

A very friendly local builder who it appeared had had a million beers already, tried to persuade me to try the Dunkel. I know ordinarily, when a strange gentleman offers you the Dunkel, you might find it appropriate to politely decline, but on this occasion having had my wits dampened by the Winter Warmer I accepted the advice. I am very glad that I did as this one off, Oak Aged ale brewed in the style of beers from Dunkel in Germany was quite simply stunning. It had the smoothness of a Balvenie whisky, with all the character and honeyed sweetness that goes with it, but was refreshing and delicate at the same time. I just hope that when they make another batch they can remember what they did. All in all this was one of the best days I have ever had on my own. Cannot wait to go back.

Albuquerque, New Mexico

As Prefab Sprout once sang, "Hotdogs, Jumping frogs, Albuquerque". I didn't actually see any hotdogs or jumping frogs, but Albuquerque was definitely as bizarre as the song. Such a wonderful mix of eclectic buildings, sensational backdrops, fascinating side streets and superb food should make Albuquerque a number one tourist destination. Sadly though, it is all a bit run-down, and one of America's poorest states certainly needs to pump a little bit of cash into this little gem of a city before it crumbles completely. I did have a wonderful two days here though, a particular highlight being my visit to the Petroglyph National Park, home to many rock drawings, some of which are claimed to have been drawn by aliens. I think being so close to Roswell has gone to some people's heads. Another highlight was a quirky little New Mexican restaurant set up in an old clothes shop where you can eat exceptional food, drink some good imported mexican beer and receive excellent service, all for as little as $8 per person.

Scottsdale, Arizona.