How the west won me over

From wineries, ski slopes and cowboy saloons, falls for Arizona’s charms

WHEREVER I look there they are, giving me a jaunty wave, or displaying a shrug with their long extremities, and generally emanating a happy, feelgood vibe. They’re the tall, multi-limbed saguaro cacti, which carpet the desert state of Arizona like tulips do in Holland; fuzzy-looking, stately green plants that can grow up to 40ft high.

They are, of course, not quite as adorable as they look, covered as they are, in sharp, thorny spikes, but as shorthand for realising I’m now in the dusty US desert, they really do the job.

In fact, Arizona contains parts of four different deserts, the largest being the Sonoran in the southwest (the only one in which you’ll find saguaros). The state itself covers nearly 114,000 square miles, which encompasses a decent stretch of the Grand Canyon, and is known for its striking, contrasting landscapes, hiking trails, forests, and even ski slopes.

My boyfriend and I are taking a classic road trip, exploring the region’s extremes of nature, starting in Scottsdale, just east of the state capital, Phoenix.

We discover it’s a charming, walkable place with a historic downtown. This is cowboy country; there are sculptures and statues of broncos, buffalo and native Americans peppering Main Street. Many of the shops and boutiques are still designed like the 19th-century wooden or adobe buildings which would have made up a small town in the Old West.

There are also art galleries and jewellery stores galore, but my favourite find is the Rusty Spur Saloon, where we stop for lunch. A rough and ready, yee-ha style bar, there’s live country music in the corner, and cowboy chilli on the menu, and that’s good enough for us. When I find out that Clint Eastwood has visited, my joy is complete.

A surprising – and welcome – discovery is that Arizona produces its own wine; many of the state’s hundred or so vineyards are based around the Chiricahua Mountains, four hours south, and