Been having problems with my water tank. At first, it appeared to be the tank itself; I ended up with a frying pan underneath to catch the flow. Eventually, I realised that it's the pressure meter at the top of the tank which is the problem; the water was coming down the side, and dripping from the bottom. It's only dripping which is why it took me so long to work out where it was ultimately coming from. But it's leaking maybe half a litre an hour, which is a lot of water over time. However, because the tank is close to the ground, I could only use a shallow frying pan to catch the water. My solution to the problem is a Heath Robinson master-piece.

I've wrapped a piece of cloth under the leak, which has got soaked. This then directs the moisture away from the tank, where it can drip freely and be caught in a large container. The dripping was going to drive me mad, however, and also as the cloth got wet, it changed it's shape; so I added a funnel and pipe. The last essential ingredients were some cling-film around the cloth to stop drips from anywhere else, and vaseline on the water tank to re-direct the last few recalcitrant flows.

Full details available.

I've been to Gerswhins, which is on (or under) Dean Street before, but for a quick pre-gig meal. This time was a more leisured affair. The place is underground, in a wine cellar. It's dimly light, from 100s of fibre optic strands from the ceiling. It's a jazz resturant apparently. So, later in the evening, they had caberet; a guy in a dinner jacket, crooning to a recording backing track. He was actually pretty good, very professional and a competent singer; half-way through a Sinatra melody, an older couple, very elegantly dressed—man in blazer and tie, woman in skirt and formal top—started wheeling around the dance floor (that is the small gap between the tables). The woman looked happy and entertained, the man dignified and serene, although I noticed a momentary look of relief as he got to sit down again.

I could help thinking that the dimness was partly to cover up the flaws; there was a ice bucket hidden partly next and partly under my seat, catching drips from the ceiling; or at least the ones which didn't fall on me. The toilets were dark, but with spotlight urinals which were stainless steel; the parabolic bowls shined the light back bright enough to burn your retinas; while engaged, however, my head blocked the light and, already half-blinded, meant I had to aim using echo location. And one of the taps was not screwed in properly, rotating Exorcist style rather than producing water.

A strange night; Gershwins is a bit tacky, but gets away with it for some reason; it was both elegant and naff simultaneously, which should be impossible.

Oh, yeah, and the food. I had a pepper and courgette soup followed by a mushroom curry; they were both excellent, even if the curry was a bit pokey. I had a pepper soup a couple of weeks ago (on the Grand Canyon of all places) which was lovely, so perhaps I should try this.

So, first time I've been in the US for a long period on holiday rather than working. It's still a country that I don't understand, a place of contrast and contradiction. In it's care for the National Parks, you can see the place at it's very best. It's caring, educational, passionate. At the same time, staring across the Grand Canyon or from Joshua Tree, and understanding that the haze you can see is pollution from the roads of Los Angeles is a depressing experience. It's a pity that more Americans don't do as I have done, and visit the national parks to see the damage that they are doing; there's no excuse; it's so easy by car.

I've enjoyed the US away from the main urban areas far more than the time in the cities; touring through Arizona and Utah has been a great experience. Perhaps the most unexpectedly educational experience, was listening to Rush Limbaugh and his equivalents on talk radio. Clever and consistent, it's easy to see how this trickling propaganda sinks in. Being able to switch your opponent off, makes it easy to win the argument.

For the leader of the free world, I find the US strange constrained; there are signs up everywhere telling you what you must or must not do, all backed with obscure references to ordinances. The exception to this, of course, is parking which you can do most places. Even the rich districts of SF have 2 hour parking on most streets. At the same time, basic consumer protection seems missing — the price you see is never the price you pay, even if it's just tax. Having said that, everybody is willing to do things for you, if you ask. You can get food as you want, variations are almost always possible, and if you are argue rules can be changed; in the end, we didn't pay the one way charge the San Diego branch of Dollar was trying to screw us for.

The low point of the holiday has to have been the MGM in Las Vegas; two lions in a small glass cage in a Casino is a disgraceful exhibition that degrades all those who see it. The highpoint was Betatakin floating in the distance. And the most pervasive memory, I steal — all the roads going, all the people dreaming in the immensity of it all.

Yosemite is one of the oldest and perhaps the most complete of the National Parks from an enjoyment point of view anyway. To get into it, we went over a 9900 foot mountain pass, crawled down to the valley floor, with temperature raising as we went. I saw El Capitan (or a big rock for those not in the know) and the US's tallest waterfall (impressive, but almost dry at this time of year).

The whole place was wonderful, but it's got such heavy traffic through it and it's less well done than Bryce or Zion in terms of information. Ultimately, I think that the problem was ours; vast amounts of Yosemite are only accessible on foot; clearly the short time we had, is not the best way to see it.

San Francisco was great, however. All of a bit of a cliche I fear — the hilly streets, the crookedest road which we drove down by mistake, the cable cars and so on. I've now sailed under the Golden Gate bridge on a catermaran, been on a cheesy tour in a bus dressed up like a cable car. It's a vibrant city, relaxed and comformtable. The climate is nice, never hot, never cold; although, ironically, having been in the desert for 2 weeks, I burnt my head — it's cool, but the sun, when it's out, is as bright as anywhere else in California.

It may seem that we are ticking off national parks in a mad rush, but it's not really the case; this trip hasn't allowed an in-depth study of the Parks it's true, but I think I've managed to come away with an understanding of the essential nature of each, as well as a deep appreciation of local sandstones.

After Bryce, the plan was to move to Las Vegas, but Zion stands more or less in the way and we got sidetracked; which was good as Zion is one of the most beautiful parks I've seen, with the most amazing variety of micro-climates. The main difference is that it has water; so while it's still desert, it is rich with plant and animal life. As you move upward, it gets wetter and cooler and the plants change accordingly. Perhaps the most extreme example is Weeping Rock; this is a enormous rock face which sits on the boundary of two layers of horizontal rock, the lower layer being impermeable; so water that fell as rain 1200 years weeps out onto the desert floor causing a small, local swamp area. In a 200m walk, the plants change completely.

Zion has also had a novel idea, which the rest of the National Parks should learn from: they have banned cars from the main road. We toured the valley in a propane-powered shuttle bus. The view was better as a result and the place more peaceful. Bryce and the Grand Canyon should follow. Arches and the Petrified forest might be a different thing; a 5 minute wait for a bus in Zion is nothing, but in the full desert heat, a car also becomes a portable air-con unit.

It took 4 hours to see Zion, so we stayed in Hurricane rather than Vegas as was the plan. A classic American town which I did not see much off.

Next stop was Las Vegas itself. For specifics, read a guide book; Las Vegas, at least this part, is surface thin. It's visually stunning, provides a sensory overload, but there is nothing to it, other than the things you can see. More over, even the shows seem to be largely a copy; the number of people who were appearing as some one else, from stars of Country and Western, to men dressed as Joan Rivers or Brittany Spears. The whole place was plastic, packaged and artificial, even down to the food; the closest we could get to real food was bottled orange juice and a prepared fruit salad.

From Vegas, we travelled through Death Valley which was 48C at the lowest point that we got to (190 feet short of sea-level). Stark and magnificient, dangerous and inhospitable, it was everything that I could have expected.

Out of Death Valley, we have passed the shadow of the High Sierra Nevada, including the highest mountain in the main body of the US. In the distance, I saw the smoke from a major fire in Yosemite; we've come to rest in a place near Crawley Lake which doesn't seem to have a name of it's own. The temperature has gone in a few hours from 48C to around 10C. Outside, I've saw in 5 minutes the milky way, three meteorites and the sky lit up with a distant lightening strike.

Been to four more places since Grand Canyon. The first, Monument Valley is actually part of the Navajo nation. It's got a famous skyline, but it's not been that well developed and not that great as far as I can tell.

The big surprise of the trip was the Navajo national monument — managed by the federal government, but named after the Navajo. It's not that big, but you can walk down short trail which overlooks Betatakin. This is Pueblo settlement, maybe 800 years old. It's hidden in a large cave, shetlered from the elements. I only saw it from a kilometre away, but it was a wonderful experience.

Next, came a brief stop in Moab; they have a small museum there, with most of the exhibits appearing to come from a few families whose descendents were or are compulsive collectors; one of the items was a trunk from a chap who came from "Trimely, Worcester". I suspect this was Grimley in reality, but it was strange to come around the world to find a peace of home.

The Arches National Park has lots of, well, arches. Truely amazing place, you can stand under fins of rock weighing millions of tons. Hot as hell, though. It must have cleared 39C.

Finally, today was Bryce. As far as I can tell, it's made of very similar stone to Arches, but it's higher up (about 3000m!) and wetter. It's been formed by freeze-fracture rather than gentle (and very rare) water. As a result, the rock formations are spikier, rougher and stunning. They have formed a wonderful canyon; in many ways this is more impressive than the Grand Canyon as you can easily walk into it, feel the sandstone and, most of all, look up.