Mormons might be a pain when they are at your front door on a Sunday morning when you are pissed off enough after reading more Caroline Wilson horseshit. But they are great in Utah.

Calico

Calico lies along Ghost Town road. Calico is supposed to be a ghost town. What it actually is, is shithouse. There are the remnants of two rammed earth homes that they have “restored “, to be a candle shop and a leather shop. There are maybe 15 various reproductions of old western structures that sell hot dogs or beer or fairy floss or other various crap. But the most upsetting part to me was their House of Bottles construction. There is no explanation of why this here and no recognition of the grandfather of all Houses of Bottles in Kinglake Victoria.  To those who haven’t been to the great southern land’s answer to the Great Pyramid I urge to go. Like so many great structures it is not how it was built, but why. I note that there is a Google review that says- 5 stars ”Wonderfully quirky! 5000 ornamental shoes and dinosaur bones. Get yourself back to Kinglake and take a look”, Michael Dahlstrom. I am willing to bet that Mike was a family friend. A very close family friend.

Who are they trying to kid!

St. George Utah. I was keen to get to Utah, because I have a theory that all Mormons are good-looking (except for the eldest Osmond). Think the Romneys, all those teeth, hair and perfect skin.

And so it is, nearly everybody is good-looking and happy and contented (the occasional ugly I presume is a Presbyterian infiltrator or you know…… me). Think the Stepford wives on a grand scale. Anyway I play the local course which has the most spectacular backdrop of red cliffs and canyons. I come to the 130 metre par 3 11^th. You hit from a cliff to a green some 70 metres below. Seven iron? I scrub it into the desert below. I need to go big. I pull out the 4 iron. Why would I need to go big? Anyway I pick it up sweetly and it sails directly at the pin and then some and then some and then some. Going down to the green I see that beyond is another cliff and more desert. I‘m pretty sure I hit a ball from Utah into Arizona. Maybe Mexico. Anyway I check my card a few days later and I have got it down as an 80. Does this sound like bullshit to you? Me too.

Utah? or Arizona?…………definitely North America somewhere.

Farmington, New Mexico. The only thing worse than the golf course and my golf is this prick of a joint. I ask the receptionist at the hotel where I should go for a drink and a bite to eat. “Oh there is this great micro brewery that has great beer and food.”  Do you remember the bar in the first Star Wars? That was the Windsor compared to this place. A couple fights broke out while I was there (which wasn’t long). And no one was in the least perturbed.

So I don’t have to do anything……….sweet.

Collegiate Peaks, Golf Course Colorado. I golf ok. Back at the club house I talk to the lady behind the jump. Me “Do you get snow?” Her “Oh gosh yes”. Me “How do you survive financially?” Her “Well then we have all the skiers. It all works out fine”. Me “What happens to the golf course?”  Her “Well the wild life takeover. We have bison, bears and reindeers and elks and such. The reindeer and the antelope spar with the flags on the greens”. I imagine this to be like Terry Cahill of the Socceroos sparring with the side flag, but not as predictable and annoying. So it really is like Home on the range: The buffalo roam and the deer and the antelope play and I seldom heard a discouraging word.

• 2nd best job in the world.
• A tale of two tours