Not all that much has changed here. The mink are still in the process of being blood-tested, weighed and graded. And the weather is still fairly mild, definitely more autumn than winter. It is cool, staying in the single figures, and usually overcast, and frequently rainy. But we've had no more frost since October, nor a hint of snow. The weather forecast suggests that might change in the next week, though, and I can feel a bit of a change in the air tonight.

Anyway, I'll continue on with the account of my U.S. trip, in particular my drive through Utah.

I left Mexican Hat early and drove north. The scenery never really struck me as spectacular in the same way that, say, the Rockies or Cascades are, but it was always interesting. We went over plains, around rocky monuments, and through canyons. I always love the experience of being able to fill in areas of a map with mental images.

I passed through the town of Bluff, nestled beneath its eponymous cliff. I do get the impression that, in some of these places, they weren't really trying that hard with the names (my favourite case being the charming hamlet of No Name, Colorado). What was particularly interesting about Bluff was that the sign read 'founded c. 650 AD'. Who lived there back then? What sort of homes did they live in? What did they eat? Have they left direct descendants or have they, like the Pueblo dwellers of New Mexico, disappeared? There is a great deal of things this trip has left me wanting to look up.

On the whole, though, Bluff was a kind of small and run-down place. I was interested in breakfast, so I decided to push on to the next town on the map, Blanding. Sure enough, the Old Tymey Restaurant there was open for business.

One of my favourite things about traveling in the U.S., perhaps my favourite thing, is the ready availability of really good breakfasts. And I have to admit, the Red States do it better than the Blue (maybe there's a connection between being a morning person and voting Republican?). I've had a bit of trouble finding a hearty breakfast here in Boulder, despite the number of cafes. And on my last attempt to get a full breakfast in a trendy area of Vancouver I ended up with two eggs, a clump of arugula and some whole-wheat toast with 'a selection of organic preserves'. The comparison between the morning at the Best Western at Arcata, California and Kingman, Arizona, couldn't have been more clear. Munching a bagel in Arcata and watching CNN vs getting stuck into sausages, biscuits and gravy in Kingman while the man in the plaid shirt and the jeans with braces at the next table holds forth on how Obama can't be trusted because his first act as President was to travel to Kenya and destroy his birth certificate. It's almost enough to let one overlook the election and re-election of George W. Bush.

If I ever write a book on this trip and it turns out to be a hit, I'm prepared for the possibility of being called upon to host my own travel-themed TV show. And what will it be? Great Mountains? Deadliest Animals? They both have potential. Breaking Down Around the World is also worthy of serious thought. In the end, though, it'll probably be Great Breakfasts of the World. I'll travel the globe in search of the ideal breakfast, and everyone at home can follow along with rapt attention.

And while I'm not sure if the breakfast at the Old Tymey Restaurant in Blanding, Utah, is one of the great breakfasts of the world, it was certainly one of the most satisfying I've ever eaten. Americans do not appreciate the importance of fried tomato to a good breakfast, it's true, and they're not entirely clear on the concept of sausage, but American biscuits and gravy with breakfast are both inspired ideas. And as much as I like the full English breakfast, I do admit that parboiled fish and ground offal aren't always the best things to encounter on the plate while still bleary-eyed.

So after finishing my sausage, eggs, hash brown, toast, pancakes and multiple refills of coffee I felt ready to tackle anything. Anything turned out to be a surprise. For one thing, I saw not one little Mormon Temple. For another, the only political sign I saw in the entire time I was in the reddest of red states was an Obama 08 bumper sticker (on a car apparently belonging to a resident of a the rural Moab Valley, no less). Driving through Moab, the town was dominated by outdoorsy stores selling mountain bikes or rock-climbing gear, or places offering tours of canyons and badlands. There were recreation areas everywhere, and miles of bike tracks. The people looked young and fit. In the end, I had to conclude that Utah is actually full of outdoors and fitness enthusiasts who spread rumours about the state being a wasteland full of Mormon fanatics so that they get to keep it all to themselves. I didn't blame them for a minute - nothing improves an area of natural beauty more than the absence of five hundred Californians.

Eventually I joined the I-70 and flew on west. Despite being in the middle of nowhere, the road was huge and full of cars, but I was used to that by now. Driving steadily but below the speed limit (I was still a bit worried about the car) I soon passed a sign welcoming me to 'Colorful Colorado'. It was time for another state.