It’s getting harder to write about travel plans and look back on past trips. Though the UK vaccination programme proceeds at a decent pace, there’s still a long way to go before I reach the front of the queue and who knows when I’ll be able to travel abroad again. Lockdown has been tough this time, not least because the ground is sodden from one of the wettest winters we’ve had. I’m fortunate to have plenty of work and much to do around the house. But television and film allow me to travel vicariously and get my USA fix until I can get back there in real life. This list is certainly not a critics’ roundup, but instead it represents some of my favourite movies which celebrate the diverse and wonderful country which is the USA.
When Harry Met Sally
Let’s start at the beginning. Over three decades ago, I walked across the Rainbow Bridge to the American side of Niagara Falls; a couple of years later I returned for my first trip to New York City. It was a few years after When Harry Met Sally was released. As on the big screen, I stood beside the arch in Washington Square Park, ate “what she’s having” in Katz’s Deli and strolled through Central Park. I roller-bladed on the Wollman Rink too, though these days you can only skate in winter, on ice.
Fortunately, my experience of Canyonlands National Park was nothing like that of Aron Ralston and this film, recounting the accident he had in which he lost an arm, is a tough watch. It’s set in Bluejohn Canyon, well off the main highway, which was apparently named after an outlaw called John Griffiths who had one blue and one brown eye. I never made it to this photogenic slot canyon, but the colours of the rock under the changing light bring back memories of the other, more accessible parts of the park I visited.
I do love a good Denzel Washington action thriller and no matter how many times I watch this movie, I never get bored of it. The runaway train scenes are stylishly shot as you’d expect from Tony Scott but I also love how this film has a really strong sense of place as it represents blue collar Pennsylvania. The “Stanton Curve” which is the setting for one of the most tense sequences in the movie, is actually the B & O Railroad Viaduct linking Bellaire, Ohio and Benwood, West Virginia.
The Horse Whisperer
I’m as much a fan of Robert Redford as I am of America’s wide open spaces, so this film is one I’ve watched many times. Southern Montana, specifically the ranch country at the base of the Absaroka Range south of Livingston, provided the breathtaking backdrop for much of the movie. That said, the opening sequence in a wintry upstate New York lane never loses its dramatic punch to the gut.
I’m not sure whether it’s the music but the sequence in front of the Bellagio’s fountains is a splendid way to end a film. I’m not alone; apparently when they won the TripAdvisor Travelers’ Choice award for top landmark in the United States over a decade later, the film was credited for reminding visitors of their appeal. Las Vegas has grown on me; the first time we visited I took some persuasion to go at all, but having been to the Neon Boneyard and Mob Museum, I’m now a convert.
It’s rare that both a book and a movie can have the same impact; often we connect with one more than the other. Cheryl Strayed’s hike along the Pacific Crest Trail was an emotional read but translated well to the big screen. Reese Witherspoon did an incredible job but the trail scenery in Oregon and Washington was unquestionably the star.
Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri
This award-winning film wasn’t set in Missouri. But that isn’t really the point. It was shot near Asheville, North Carolina; downtown Sylva, an hour away, became the fictitious Ebbing. It was chosen as it had a quintessentially small town feel and, I read, the buildings in its main street were close enough together to throw something from one into another. I haven’t yet made it to Asheville, but it brings to mind similar places as far apart as Colorado and Maine.
Nights in Rodanthe
My final pick is also for a place I’ve never been, though North Carolina’s Outer Banks have been on my wish list for a while. The herd of wild Colonial Spanish Mustangs that Diane Lane catches sight of do roam the northernmost Currituck Outer Banks, though that’s not where they are in the movie. Another thing that’s moved is the inn itself. Had Richard Gere survived (oh I wish that he had) he’d be surprised to find it in a different location. It was moved 2 years after the film came out to protect it from future storms.
Do you have a favourite movie that’s set in the USA? I’d love you to leave a comment and share your picks.
This blog contains a mix of images; some are my own but those illustrating Unstoppable, Ocean’s Eleven, Wild and Nights in Rodanthe are sourced from Pixabay.
Necessity is the mother of invention.
A sentiment expressed by Plato, but first recorded in the written word by 17th century author Richard Franck, never has it been more true than at this extraordinary time in the world’s existence.
In these strange and challenging times, life – and businesses – are having to adapt to cope and survive. The travel industry is one of those affected, of course, and the impact on guidebook publishers is one way that manifests itself. Lonely Planet announced last week that it was shutting down some of its offices, though guidebook production would continue. Once, a Lonely Planet guide would have been my go-to, but increasingly, they’ve not been the best fit. Instead, I’ve used independent publisher Bradt Guides on many occasions when my wanderlust led me to some of the world’s most off the beaten track destinations. I even took one to Iceland, packing it alongside my wedding dress. Some of those guides are well thumbed; others purchased in anticipation of future trips.
Uruguay: Fiesta de la Patria Gaucha
Bradt has been offering seriously tempting discounts on its back catalogue. I’ve stocked up with guides that I hope to use when we get exploring again. As someone who has seen her writing feature in a small way in two Bradt anthologies, and has had the privilege of meeting both founder Hilary Bradt and MD Adrian Philips, I’m invested in this beyond consumer level. But even if I wasn’t, it would seem a very worthy initiative to support, beyond a travel writer’s loyalty to a favourite brand. This is the company that produces guides to the more obscure corners of the planet, sometimes the only mainstream publisher to do so. My Bradt pile includes guides to Tajikistan, Haiti, Uganda and Belarus. Along side them sit Iceland, the Azores, Ghana and Uzbekistan. On the wishlist, awaiting the publication of new editions, are Sao Tome & Principe, Suriname and Iran. Right now there are 227 special offers at the Bradt online shop, not just for guidebooks but for some of the best travel writing out there on the shelves.
Cape Verde: Santa Maria
But that’s not enough. Yesterday, Bradt announced a different strategy, one which is innovative, brave and – I hope – successful. Using the Patreon platform, Bradt are asking travellers to support them by signing up to their new subscription service. For £5 a month, Bradtpackers receive an e-zine with the latest news and travel inspiration together with exclusive discount offers, competitions and pre-publication deals. Opt for Globetrotter level at a cost of £15 a month and on top of that, you receive a free book each month. Choose First Class Traveller tier and as well as that you will be able to benefit from bespoke travel-planning advice for two trips a year from a Bradt author or other expert at a cost of £35 a month.
We still need our guidebooks. This is still a time to dream.
I hope that Bradt survives the economic fallout from this horrible virus. But in the meantime I’ve subscribed and, if you’re a keen traveller also, I hope you will too. If so, this is the link you’ll need:
Tomorrow marks two weeks of lockdown for the UK. On the face of it, COVID-19 hasn’t impacted my daily life as much as some. I finished a large commission for an in-flight magazine. I’m told they will still pay, though I’m less certain they will publish. The editor has been supportive and communicative, which has been a relief. Although some of my regulars have paused contracts, I still have work from some. I’ve even managed to score a couple of new contracts which should prove to be ongoing. I’m one of the lucky ones; many travel writer colleagues have seen a year’s worth of work vanish overnight.
Right now, I’d usually be travelling. In previous years, I’ve jetted off in early spring to places as varied as Chile, the Seychelles, Sri Lanka, Argentina, Bolivia and the Bahamas. Tomorrow is my wedding anniversary – six years ago we were in Iceland luxuriating in the Blue Lagoon in anticipation of the big day. I’d have been preparing for late spring trips to the Faroe Islands, Kyrgyzstan, Georgia, Armenia, New Zealand and Tonga, finalising plans and reserving hotels.
But over the last few years I have also taken a few months off in the summer, so right now though the seasons are a little mixed up, it feels just like that. The village has become a bubble, a place free of anxiety, when the outside world has become a frightening place. We’re looking out for each other; the Facebook group I set up before this all started has twice as many members now and we’re all doing what we can to help each other.
When the virus first started making its presence felt, I experienced a kind of grief. Border after border closed; tour operators and tour guides reported how it was devastating their businesses. Financially, I’m not significantly affected, with just one BA flight to deal with when the airline officially cancels it. But it’s horrible to think of all those who have lost livelihoods and with them, hope for the future. The human impact of this virus is unbearable, but the economic effect is something we’ll live with for many years.
A friend has spoken to me about how hard it has already been in Uganda, where I visited last year. Rising food prices and a lack of affordable healthcare will have terrifying consequences. At present there are only 52 confirmed cases, and no deaths. The population is relatively young, though the impact of HIV/AIDS mean many youngsters are looked after by grandparents who fall into the vulnerable category. No matter how hard it is for us, it’s so much worse for the desperately poor.
Though I’ve built a career on discovering new places, I’ve found that the places I most want to go and visit when all this is over are those I’ve already visited. On TV right now in the UK is a BBC series called Race Across the World. In last night’s episode, they travelled from Puno in Peru to Cafayate in Argentina. Along the way, they visited the Salar de Uyuni, La Paz, Salta and San Pedro de Atacama, all places I’ve been and fallen in love with. It was great to escape. Like many, I’m trying to limit the amount of news I’m watching.
It’s impossible to plan when nobody knows exactly when the travel restrictions will be lifted. I’m getting email after email of impossibly cheap flight deals in my inbox, but the FCO have extended the worldwide travel ban indefinitely. How can you plan a trip when you don’t even know what season it will be? I know they’re first world problems. My job doesn’t put me at the front line and I’m immensely grateful to those working in the NHS and in key worker roles to keep us safe and fed.
I’ve bought myself some new Bradt guides for bedtime reading, though for now they’re shelved as I pore over old photos. Talk in the household is of a US road trip from Washington DC to the Great Smoky Mountains, or a return visit to Iceland or Peru. I know I want to go back Down Under and hike the mountains of the Austrian Tirol again. It’s been interesting to see the different strategies employed by tourist boards and travel companies, some of whom are marketing their destinations almost as normal so that they can remain in people’s imaginations when they are able to book again.
I really should be using this time to write the book I never finished. But I can’t seem to find the words just yet. In the face of what’s happening, it just doesn’t seem important.